Your kid hits you, and you say, “No. I won’t let you hit,” and then you actually stop their body from doing it again by blocking the next hit with your hand. You add a dose of empathy with, “I know… it’s hard to wait.”
Or your kid speaks to you rudely, and you say, “Hey. I care about how you’re feeling. And I absolutely will not get into a conversation when you speak to me that way.” Maybe after a breath: “I know you can do better. Try again,” said from love and belief, not criticism and control.
The podcast episode keeps asking, “which am I supposed to be.” Instead, I’d ask: in which direction have I gone too far toward, and what’s the correction toward balance?
Here’s where I’ve noticed a pattern in parenting: an overcorrection toward empathy only, rather than empathy and limits.
When a kid doesn’t want to go to his sister’s soccer game, complaining that it’s boring and not fun. Not long ago, the response might be something like: “Stop crying, it’s not a big deal’ or “I’ll give you something to cry about, we’re going.”
I am not suggesting we go back there. Our kids deserve better than that, and so did we. But look at where we’ve landed instead: “Okay, someone will stay home with you.” Or, “Ok, you know what, we’ll bring your iPad.” This is not a referendum on the iPad. It’s a comment on a philosophy: that without realizing it, parenting has become about optimizing each individual child’s enjoyment at every hour of the weekend. And then we wonder why our kids can’t tolerate being bored. We wonder why our kids can’t do something that’s about the family instead of about them.
I’m not immune to this either. A couple of years ago I heard myself say to my kid, “We’re all going to your sister’s game, and we’re not bringing an iPad. And we’re doing it because I agree with you that it’s not the most fun for you. The weekend is not about optimizing your personal pleasure at all moments.”