Vol. 103 - The Helplessness of Fatherhood

On letting them take their lumps

Before we get into this week’s newsletter, I wanted to share this essay I wrote for Scientific American, examining whether the pandemic lockdown created a microgeneration of kids. Spoiler alert: you’ll have to read it to find out. Enjoy!

---

One of the best things we can do for our kids is to let them experience a spectrum of feelings and emotions. Yes, even the bad ones.

As a parent, that sucks.

It’s programmed in us to protect our kids from harm; the physical, of course, but also the emotional. And so when my kids are feeling sad or afraid or uncomfortable, I have to find the line of allowing my kids kids those feelings while still letting them know that they're safe, that I have their backs.

If Emily or I swoop in anytime our kids are feeling lousy, they won’t develop the tools to deal with those emotions. Such overparenting can have lifelong consequences.

Still, watching my kids be sad or hurt is one of the hardest things to do as a father.

One of my biggest fears as a parent is my kids getting bullied. 

A few weeks ago, my son told us an older kid at one of his weekly summer camps was making fun of him for bringing a stuffed animal to one of his summer camps. As the camp focused on teaching kids how to be anti-racist, the counselors encouraged kids to bring their tools of comfort, as some of the days would cover heavy topics rooted in racism.

I wanted to wring the little fucker's neck for hurting my son’s feelings. But I can’t do that for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is the potential for jail time.

Emily, our son, and I talked about it that night, had a long discussion about how it made him feel. We touched on the idea of using it as fuel to be kind to everyone, to never forget how such unkindness made him feel so that he might not be similarly unkind to other kids. We talked about how no matter how kind he is, there are always going to be kids who are unkind for whatever reason. We talked about how such unkindness usually comes from a place of insecurity or fear. But those are heavy concepts for a boy who only knows that he’d been made fun of.

I don’t want my son to be afraid or embarrassed, of course. But mostly, I want my son to be unafraid to be who he is, to proudly do, say, and display the things that make him feel happy, comfortable, and comforted.

The next morning, I asked my son if he wanted to bring the stuffy to camp again. He said he didn’t. I asked if it was due to what the other kid said. He promised me it wasn’t.

I gently reminded him that he could bring the stuffy if he felt he needed to, but that was all I could do. I couldn't force my son to be defiant in the face of a bully. I could't make him bring the stuffy for a variety of reasons (the biggest one being that it might result in him getting picked on more). Like always, I just had to allow him to make his decisions and be there in support for him.

It’s times like these that you’re reminded as a parent that these tiny creatures in your charge are their own human beings. That, as much as you want to—consciously or otherwise—bend them to your will, you simply need to allow them to be themselves and to fashion yourself as the foundation on which they stand as they discover the world around them. It’s a helpless feeling and one that flies in the face of everything our instincts are telling us. But it’s something we need to learn to accept and embrace as our kids become more and more autonomous.

Do I want my son to be defiantly independent? Yes.

Why? Because that’s how I was as a kid.

Be he isn’t me. He’s him. And it’s my job to support that.