"The more urgently you want to speak, the more likely it is that you will say something foolish."
-Leo Tolstoy and Peter Sekirin, A Calendar of Wisdom
We’re a few months away from one of the boys leaving the house. He’ll go away to school, and he won’t come back. At least not the way it’s been for the last 18 years.
He has all of the choices in the world to make - A whole life ahead that likely won’t be what he thinks. I hope the pressures from his parents, friends, and society don’t prevent him from exploring and finding his truth. I hope he finds his problem-solving partner along the way and finds the problems he loves solving that mean something to him. There is little I want more in the world than for him to do both while being honest with himself.
As he gets older, so do I. I’m excited about getting older. Each year, my ego matters less, my fear of other people’s opinions goes down, and I get more comfortable with who I am. Midlife, I welcome you with open arms.
There is still a long way to go, but I’m getting clearer on what is essential and what isn’t. I lie a little less to myself about priorities and my behavior. I set more boundaries, say no more often, and react less.
Hopefully, there are another four decades or so to go for me. Another forty years of getting better at being me. A better friend, husband, and most importantly, a better father.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have regrets as a parent. Almost all of them revolve around my patience. The moments of frustration, intolerance, judgment, ego, and sometimes anger. These are all emotions I’m sure almost every other parent who has ever lived has felt, but that is no excuse.
There were moments when I should have paused, breathed, looked at him, and tried to get inside him before responding. I could have worked harder to see things from his point of view instead of mine. I know at those moments, I wasn’t what he needed.
I’ll try not to think about what I could’ve done differently. There is nothing I can do about that now. On balance, I think we did a pretty good job. But thank goodness for Princess Buttercup. She’s laid down some parenting wisdom over the years and keeps improving. Sometimes, I think she can see the future as she leans over and whispers, “Just wait.”
I hope he’ll say that I helped more than I hurt, but those missed opportunities were chances to connect more deeply and support him on his journey. I can’t do anything about those now, but there will be more. I came across this idea, which I’ll use when that happens.
“Instead of trying to be your best, ask yourself how to avoid being your worst.” 1
If I can do that, I won’t miss any more opportunities to be the father he needs as he turns the chapters in his life: patient, accepting, loving, humble, honest, and present.
Take care, Kelly
Here is a post from the same week last year.
https://fs.blog
Avoiding The Worst