Can I make a confession?
I am way harder on my own kids than I am on other people’s kids. I see this most acutely when I coach. It doesn’t matter what sport it is, invariably I am more strict with my own sons that I am with the other boys. It’s so obvious to me (and to them) that there have been several times when I’ve mentally told myself that I probably shouldn't coach my boys again so that I won’t be an impediment to their love of sports.
It’s not just sports, either. When my sons are hanging with their friends and they all start misbehaving, invariably I call out my boys first and most forcefully. When one of my sons points out this imbalance, as they often do, I quickly justify my actions because “I’m not their parent, but I’m yours.” And there is some truth to that. However, underneath that excuse is a deeper, less altruistic motivation: I’m hard on my sons because they reflect upon me.
I am patient and grace-filled with other kids because their actions are their own, but my kids’ actions reflect upon me. More often than not, the energy behind my response has more to do with my own embarrassment than with training them up in the way they should go. Truth be told, I’m often a better, kinder role model to other people’s kids than I am to my own. And I don’t want to mistreat my sons or tear them down in the name of building them up.
So I’m going to keep parenting my boys, keep calling them on their bad behavior. But I’m also going to strive to remove my own embarrassment from the equation. I’m going to give myself grace for my kids being imperfect so that I can give them the grace they need to grow. After all, why would I expect perfection from them when I’m still a work in progress?
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