Letting our kids fall, fail and fear out of love

I wrote recently about the disintegration of my marriage 10 years ago…watching the one I love become increasingly distant as he disappeared into a new life away from me.

One of the things I dreaded about his departure was the effect of this on my Junior Tribe Members.  Y’see, I’ve worked with people for years, and have heard many stories of pain from folks whose parents divorced when they were kids.  I desperately did not want my children to feel this pain.

But they watched out the window as he drove away, and we all cried together.  And despite the fact that he came by the next day to take them out for a bit, and they have seen him regularly since…they still didn’t have their dad at home the way it once had been.  The house was quieter, and they missed the routine of having him in their lives in what had been a normal and constant way.

It busted me up a bunch to see them lonely for him, and missing the life we had…and to know there was nothing I could do to make it better.  We spent the summer that year hanging out together…me and the JTM’s…as much as we could. We played tennis, rode bikes, made forts, slept cosily in the forts, ripped up paper when they were angry.

I couldn’t make it better, and that hurt.

All I could do was be with them as we all hurt.

It didn’t feel like much. But it was all I had.

As parents who love our kids, and want the best for them, I often hear us telling each other: “I just want my child to be safe and happy”. We place as priority number 1 in our lives the task of creating happy and healthy children.  We do whatever it takes to help them develop proficiency in three instruments, two languages, and four sports. We work to provide innovative play dates with scintillating friends, top educational opportunities and cutting edge electronics.

We hate to see our children become disappointed, and so we go to bat for them with a teacher who seemingly marks unfairly.  We avoid having our children’s spirits crushed so we ensure that there will be a place on the team before the tryout even happens. We work to keep our children happy by taking them out to the amusement park right after the loss of the big game so they won’t feel it.

We pay their fines, do their chores, run interference with authority–all in the endeavour to keep them out of distress–happy.

And in so doing, we prevent them from engaging in the struggle of life that is so necessary as part of being a successful adult. (And often, we do it because we as parents feel like lousy parents when our children are engaging in struggle…and so it protects us from our own painful feelings of inadequacy as parents)

Think for yourself…go back to a time when you learned something really important.  When you discovered a strength you didn’t know you had.  When you were genuinely proud of your own accomplishment.  When was that?  Think for a moment…come up with a time in your life like that.

Almost certainly, that growth, discovery of strength and pride came out of a time borne of struggle.

It is in struggle that we learn and grow and gain wisdom.  Perseverance comes out of the grind…the long haul that seems discouraging, endless…and definitely not “happy”.

We as parents need to challenge ourselves about what “good” and “successful” parenting is…for some of us, we only feel successful as parents when our children feel coddled, supported, and safe. There is a powerful pull to have them feel “special” without doing anything to earn it.

Now, I believe each child merits a strong sense of being loved. Absolutely.  And a powerful feeling of belonging.  But when you make a big deal out of a child putting his plate in the dishwasher as proof of how special and gifted and hardworking that child is, there is no where to go–because in life, an adult needs to have the ability to clean up the whole table and kitchen after supper. Children can become dependent on external feedback to feel good about themselves…and parents begin to pump up their tires with very little accomplishment.

We as parents hate it when our children are upset…and often turn it on ourselves as a sign of our own inadequate parenting when a child is frustrated. It’s not easy to watch our children struggle…and yet that is what successful parenting requires.  

Parents raise children who will be able to handle the inevitable challenges and difficulties of life, to enable them to struggle through the inevitable frustrations of a lousy boss, unexpected bills, and the grind of showing up at an entry level job day after day.  Success comes after perseverance as an adult…and too often children learn that by doing an hour or two of chores, they can earn an Xbox, and they can be surprised at how real life doesn’t get them promoted just because they’d like to be in charge.

So…how do I love my JTM’s with a fierce mama bear love that only wants the best for them? How do I do right by them in a complicated world of technology that teaches that instantaneous is the norm? How do I help them understand that inevitable slow and painful growth is valuable and significant in a world that values all things instant? How do I be an effective parent when everything in me says to make their childhood pain free and

This is a video that has a lot to say, even in the first 2 minutes and 43 seconds…it can challenge–and revolutionalize your parenting–teaching our children how to sit in the dark–as an important life skill that is our responsibility as parents to teach:

Letting them fall, fail and fear is the way to love my kids…

1. Fall:

It’s no fun watching a child cry out in pain from a fall. No fun at all.

But the valuable part of falling is learning. Learning that some things aren’t a good idea…because to do them hurts! It is pain that teaches us that skateboarding without elbow pads isn’t such a good idea…and protective gear is worn…and in years in the future…that same kid wears his seat belt regularly as a new driver.

Falling hurts, but it doesn’t kill us. I remember falling off my bike as a kid…I remember hitting a tree riding down the Elmwood sidewalk. I remember the scrape on my belly from the handle bar when I hit it. I remember how it hurt…but I also remember that I healed. And I remember how hard it was–but how worthwhile it was–to get back on the bike. I became a proficient bike rider in my early elementary school years even tho I fell.

It was important for me to realize that I could get back on the bike, even after I fell.

Kids need to know that falling hurts. The pain of it can make a person wiser to avoid such nasty pain in the future. A kid also needs to know that even when falling hurts, it might be hard, but it is worthwhile to face that which has created the fall…and to conquer it.

There’s no feeling like being able to get back on the bike and ride it.

2. Fail

Failing sucks. Quite simply.

No one likes to fail.

And failing hurts. Failing feels like…well…it feels like failure.

And when a person fails, it can feel like a person is a failure, rather than having failed at something.

Failure is a valuable learning tool.

• It helps you discover your limits–which, let’s face it–we all have.
• It helps a person discover resiliency–we all need to bounce back from setbacks in life.
• Failure is inevitable. If we don’t learn about it in childhood, how will anybody ever possibly be able to handle it as an adult?
• Failure is often part of the unfairness of life. Life gives us unfair setbacks–a lousy boss, a truly unfair coach/teacher. If you are alive, you will experience injustice–and throwing a tempter tantrum at unfairness won’t actually be that helpful. Not allowing injustice to defeat us is a skill that all need to acquire for this messy thing called life.

While no parent relishes failure on the part of a child…please note that:

I would rather have my child hit the ditch at 30 km an hour while a teenager in my care, than hit a brick wall at 100 km an hour as an adult.

• Children need to learn the high cost of the speeding ticket by paying it themselves–or losing the privilege of driving the vehicle until the bill is paid off–even if it takes a ridiculous amount of babysitting. How often are you gonna speed if it takes you 6 weeks to pay off the bill? (This bit of learning could literally save a life, y’know)
• Children need to sort out how to handle the lousy performance review at their first job…a parent might coach them on strategies to have the conversation with their boss…but it would hardly be right for the parent to call and demand a retraction of the job review. Why would you steal this opportunity from your child?
• A child may not get a trophy, may not be a star player, may not get recognition, may not get as much playing time–heck…may not get any playing time. That is gonna feel like a failure. But some day, that child may be the coach…and think about how that experience of being a bench player will shape the empathy level for the bench warmers on that team.

3. Fear

Fear paralyzes.

Fear has folks move away from that which is frightening…retreating into safe spaces where the heart doesn’t thump and the breath slows.
I hated watching my JTM’s be frightened as children. It took everything I had in me not to console them by somehow making it all ok, by doing some advance work three steps ahead to smooth the road by:

• letting him avoid the event
• running interference and taking the heat for him
• calling ahead and explaining things

I’m not about throwing my kids to the wolves for the heck of it. Not at all. I sought and still seek to support my kids in their fear…but I have worked to sit with them in it, rather than removing it. I work to give them the “just right challenge” so that they face a fear without being flooded by it.

Life as an adult is scary, huh? Applying for a promotion, falling in love, getting a car loan, going to a new friend’s party, beginning a difficult conversation with a loved one, getting pregnant, getting fired, firing someone–all these are terrifying.

Knowing how to draw on one’s courage and move forward in an uncertain and vulnerable situation–terrifying–but infinitely worthwhile.

Giving our children the ability to feel their fear and being able to lean into it and move through it?

Priceless!!

Last fall, a JTM’s team lost the big game. The biggest game of their lives. Days later some of the athletes were still struggling with the disappointment and frustration of the loss…they had expected to win and they didn’t.

I asked my JTM about this…why had we had a pleasant ride home even right from the game the very evening of the loss. His response was quick: “Mom, some of these guys have never had anything bad happen to them…this is the worst thing in their lives.”

This was the experience they were challenged with to learn about sitting in the darkness…my son could roll with this loss because of what he had already learned about holding space for pain and discomfort