What Are You Teaching Them?

What Are You Teaching Them?

As parents, we spend a lot of time thinking about the lessons we want to teach our kids. But what are they learning from us when we're not intentionally teaching them anything?

In this episode of Unfinished, I talk about the pressure I put on myself to be a good dad while still figuring out my own life. After a difficult bedtime moment with my daughter forces me to confront the way I handled my own emotions, I reflects on mistakes, accountability, apologizing to our kids, and breaking patterns from our own childhoods.

Because maybe being a good parent isn't about getting everything right.

Maybe it's about showing our kids what it looks like when we get it wrong—and what we choose to do next.

So this week, the question is: What are you teaching them?

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Until next time, keep learning, keep growing, and remember...

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Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:02

Welcome back to Unfinished. The podcast where we have honest conversations about the things we're all still figuring out. I'm Jason. Let's get into it. I think one of the biggest lies I've told myself since becoming a dad is that I'm supposed to start to know what the hell I'm doing. Like somehow having a kid, this switch is just supposed to flip. And suddenly I'm gonna be more patient. I'm always gonna know the right things to say. I'll know how to handle every situation. I'll know how to teach this little human being how to navigate life. And meanwhile, I'm still trying to figure out how to navigate a lot of it myself. I'm still figuring out who I am. Still learning how to handle my emotions. I'm still learning from decisions I've made. I'm still trying to figure out what kind of man I want to be. And at the same time, I'm responsible for helping raise this little girl and teaching her how to become her own person. And lately that's had me thinking about a question. What am I teaching her? And I don't just mean the obvious stuff, like when I'm actively teaching her, like looking both ways before she crosses the street. Say please and thank you. Be kind. Clean up after yourself. I mean the stuff we're teaching our kids when we don't even realize we're teaching them. What is my daughter learning from the way I handle stress? What is she learning from the way I talk to people? What is she learning from the way I talk about myself? What does she see when I'm frustrated? And what am I teaching her when I get something wrong? Because whether I mean to or not, she's watching. And I think realizing that has put a lot of pressure on me. I think most parents probably have some version in their head of what a good parent is supposed to look like. And I know I definitely have one. I want to be patient, I want to be present. I want my daughter to know that she can talk to me. And I want her to feel safe with me. I want her to know that no matter what's happening in her life, that I'm there. I want to teach her how to treat people and how she deserves to be treated. And I want to be somebody she can look at someday and think, my dad showed up. But there's a problem with having this picture in your head of the parent you want to be. Sometimes you start expecting yourself to be that guy all the time. You start confusing being a good dad with being a perfect dad. Like, I'm never supposed to lose my patience. I'm never supposed to say the wrong thing. I'm never supposed to be frustrated. I'm supposed to know exactly how to respond to every situation, and that's just not realistic. Because being a dad didn't stop me from being a person. I still get stressed and overwhelmed. I still have bad days. There are days when work sucks, or something else is going on in my life, or I'm just not in a good head space. And then I come home and I'm still dad. She doesn't know everything that's been going on in my head that day. She's four. She just knows dad's home. And something I've noticed about myself is that when I don't live up to that standard I've created, I can be extremely hard on myself. I can have one moment where I don't respond the way I wish I had, and suddenly my brain wants to turn that into a judgment about who I am as a dad. And there's something kind of ironic about that. Because one of the biggest things I want my daughter to understand as she grows up is that her mistakes don't define her. One mistake doesn't mean you're a failure. One bad decision doesn't mean you're a bad person. One moment doesn't define who you are. But sometimes I'll make one mistake as her dad and immediately start questioning whether I'm a good dad. So obviously that's a lesson that I'm still learning too. And maybe that's part of this whole thing. I'm not supposed to teach her by already having everything figured out. Sometimes I'm teaching her by showing her what it looks like to figure it out. Because having a bad day isn't something I can always control. Feeling angry or frustrated isn't something I can just switch off. But what I do with those feelings, that is my responsibility. And I had a moment recently where I didn't do the best job of that. Was a normal night. And I don't remember what was going on, but I'd already been having a really rough day. It felt like nothing was going right, and mentally I was just not in a great place. And my daughter wasn't doing anything wrong. She wasn't misbehaving. She's four, and if you've ever been around a four-year-old, you know sometimes something that should take 30 seconds takes 15 minutes. We were trying to get her pajamas on. She was taking her time. She was asking for help with things that I knew she knew how to do. And instead of recognizing that I was already frustrated about everything else going on, I kind of snapped at her. I told her she needed to hurry up and stop screwing around. Told her she knew how to put her clothes on, that she didn't need my help, and she knew what she was doing. And then I looked at her and I saw her face. And she looked hurt and extremely sad. And it made me realize pretty instantly that she wasn't doing anything wrong and that this wasn't about her. I was having a bad day, and I had just taken that bad day out on her. So I knew I needed a second to clear my head. Just kind of reset myself, so I told her I'd be right back, and I walked out of the room. Not because I was mad at her, but because I needed a second to breathe, catch up, get myself together, and think about what had just happened instead of just continuing to react. And once I did that, it was pretty obvious that I handled the situation wrong and that I couldn't go backwards. I couldn't unsay what I'd said. I couldn't change the way I had reacted and how I had made her feel. But I could decide what I did next. Sat down with her and I asked if she was okay. She told me that she was. But she also told me that I had made her really sad for yelling at her. And that sucks to hear from your kid. Especially when you know she's right. So I told her that sometimes parents have bad days too. Moms and dads have feelings. Sometimes we're frustrated or we're upset, and sometimes dad doesn't respond to those feelings the right way. But I also told her that none of that was her fault. I told her she hadn't done anything wrong. My my emotions weren't her responsibility, and it wasn't fair of me to take it out on her. So I apologized. I told her I was sorry. I told her I loved her, and I made sure she knew that dad was still here, that she was okay, and that I was always going to take care of her. And that sometimes dad makes mistakes too. I've thought about that night quite a bit since then. Hence why I'm talking about it on here. And there's one part that keeps sticking with me. I couldn't go back. I couldn't undo that moment. But what I could do was repair it. And I think accountability as a parent happens in a couple different ways. Sometimes it's immediate. You hear the words come out of your mouth and you're like, ooh, yeah, no, that was not okay. And I think in those moments it's important for me to actually say that. Not pretend it didn't happen because I'm the parent. Not acting like being dad automatically makes me right. I can look at my daughter and say, I was wrong. I'm sorry, you didn't deserve that. And I actually think there's something important in letting her hear those words from me. Because I'm trying to teach her how to take accountability for the things she does. How can I expect her to do that if I don't model it? But there are other times where you don't realize it immediately. Sometimes hours later, I'll replay something in my head and think, I probably could have handled that better. Maybe I technically wasn't wrong, but I could have said it differently. Maybe I wasn't giving her the patience she needed. Maybe I was trying to correct a behavior, but the way I didn't wasn't teaching what I actually wanted to teach. And that's part of the work too. Asking myself, what did she learn from that? What did I actually model? And what do I want to do differently next time? Because I can't change what's already happened. But I can let what's already happened change how I show up the next time. I think part of why this matters so much to me comes from my own childhood. And I want to be fair when I talk about this. My parents did the best they could with what they had. I'm not sitting here blaming them for everything that's ever gone wrong in my life. But I also didn't grow up But I also didn't grow up in like a super loving or nurturing environment. And one thing I don't remember having a lot of was repair. I don't remember a lot of conversations where a parent came back afterwards and said, Hey, I didn't handle that right, or I shouldn't have said that to you, or even just, I'm sorry. And I think that's affected how I look at parenting now. Because it's not something I want to re-repeat with my daughter. Like, I'm going to make mistakes. There's no version of her childhood where dad's gonna get everything right. That's just impossible. But I don't want her growing up believing that adults can't admit when they're wrong. I don't want her thinking that apologizing makes you weak. I don't want her thinking that because somebody loves you, that that means they're never gonna hurt your feelings. Because sometimes the people who love us are going to get things wrong. What matters is what happens next. Can we acknowledge it? Can we listen? Can we apologize? Can we repair it? Can we actually try to do better instead of just saying that we will do better? I can't give her a perfect childhood, but I can try to give her some of the things I wish I'd had more of in mind. And I think this is where that question from the beginning comes back for me. What am I teaching her? Because when I think about that night, obviously I wish I hadn't snapped at her. But I also hope there's something she can learn from what happened after. Like I said earlier, I want her to grow up knowing that her mistakes don't define her. I want her to know that screwing up something doesn't make her a failure. It doesn't mean she can't do something. And it doesn't mean that she's a bad person. It only means that in that moment she got something wrong. That's it. Now what are you going to do with it? Are you gonna pretend it didn't happen? Are you going to blame somebody or something else? Are you going to let it convince you that you're terrible? Or are you going to look at it honestly? Take responsibility for it. Learn something, and try again. I want her to think about the things she says. To think about the way she treats people. I want her to have a strong work ethic. I want her to be able to look at herself honestly without tearing herself apart. And I want her mistakes to push her forward towards growth instead of convincing her that she's incapable of it. But the more I think about that, the more I realize I can't just tell her those things. I have to show her. If I want her to know it's okay to admit when you're wrong, then she needs to see me admit when I'm wrong. If I want her to apologize when she hurts someone, she needs to hear me apologize when I hurt her. If I want her to understand that a mistake does not make her a bad person, then I have to stop treating every mistake that I make as a dad like proof that I'm failing her. And sometimes it's really hard because I want so badly to get this right. But getting it right isn't the goal. Growing through it is and learning as I make these mistakes. And using those mistakes to approach and handle situations better the next time. You're supposed to teach them how the world works, how to communicate, how to handle emotions, how to treat people, how to pick themselves back up, and yet the longer I'm a dad, the more I find myself wondering who's actually learning from whom. Because my daughter has taught me a lot about myself. She's shown me where I'm impatient. She's shown me where I need to communicate better. She's shown me parts of myself that still need work. And she's given me a reason to. Actually, do that work. I'm trying to raise her while I'm still growing too. And that's not something I need to be ashamed of. That's just what parenting is. None of us ever reach some magical point where we're finished growing and now we're qualified to teach somebody else how to live. We're doing it at the same time. I'm teaching her, but she's also teaching me. I'm trying to help her become whoever she's going to become while I'm still becoming who I'm supposed to be. So I want to come back to the question I asked at the beginning. And ask it to you. What are you teaching them? And maybe you don't have kids. And that's okay. Because I don't think this question only applies to parents. There are always people watching how we live. Friends, family, co-workers, partners, people who look up to us that we might not even realize they're paying attention. What are we teaching them when things are going well? But more importantly, what are we teaching them when we get it wrong? Because we're going to get it wrong. I know I am. I'm gonna have plenty more bad days. I'm going to lose my patience. I'm going to say something and wish I said it differently. I'm going to continue to make mistakes as a dad and as a person. The goal isn't about avoiding that forever. The goal is becoming somebody who's willing to look at themselves afterward and say, I got that wrong. I'm sorry. What can I learn from it? How can I do it better next time? And then actually try. Because maybe being a good dad isn't about showing my daughter what perfection looks like, but more showing her what accountability looks like and what growth looks like. How to apologize. What trying again or starting over looks like. And maybe someday when she makes a mistake of her own, there will be a little part of her that remembers my mistakes don't define me. What I do next matters. If she learns that from watching me, then maybe I'm teaching her something worth carrying. So I'll leave you with the same question I'm still asking myself. What are you teaching them? Not just with what you say, but with the way you live, with the way you love, with the way you get things wrong, and with what you choose to do afterward. Thank you all for joining me today. If this episode gave you something to think about, consider following the show on Spotify or wherever you listen. And if you know someone who might need to hear this conversation, share it with them. You can also find us on Facebook at Unfinished Podcast or join the Discord community. Both of those links are in the episode description. Until next time, keep learning and keep growing.