Verge

Raising adolescent boys is the most difficult project I have ever undertaken - hands down. Not only do they expect more control over their lives, but they often take it without asking.  Like the “sneak” attacks on horseback that characterized feudal times, there’s plenty of warning the slow moving army is on its way, but the townspeople are almost never a match for their foe. I think it’s safe to say placing the reins into the fresh and eager hands of teenagers is never smooth. In order to manage it, I’m finding I need acumen, patience and the fortitude to continue to take risks in spite of repeated failures.

I’m not risk averse.  I consider myself to be a measured risk taker. I believe in failure as a necessary component of success.  When debating the prospect of something new, I weigh the consequences of possible outcomes and make a decision to take a risk based on how damaging an unsatisfactory result will be.  I believe in giving my teenagers opportunities to manage their lives even though there is a chance they will fail.  I would much rather see them make their mistakes with me, someone who loves them unconditionally and has their backs always.  I use this approach as I shift the balance of control toward my boys, in much the same way I delegate and empower my teams at work.

The flaw with using my measured risk approach with my kids is that the stakes feel really high.  These are my babies.  I have been entrusted to guide them through the beginning phases of life, to keep them safe and sound until they’re ready to be launched into the world to make the contributions that comprise their purpose. What if something goes wrong along the way and they don’t reach their potential? 

It is so very hard to watch young ones make mistakes and get into trouble.  They don’t have years of experience with it like we adults do.  They haven’t learned how to manage their emotions and see situations through any lens other than their own.  Every failure seems monumental and every consequence a death sentence.  I want nothing more than to shield them from disappointments.  But that’s not my job.

I believe my job is to equip them with the skills they need to be self-sufficient, contributing, happy members of society.  To teach them that they are accountable for the consequences of their actions, that trust is a lynchpin of successful relationships, that life is not always fair and that not only are they in charge of their own happiness, but they have the power to create it for themselves. Teaching these lessons means allowing them to take some responsibility that may result in failure.

It also means educating them on how to handle it when they do fail. Imposing consequences on an adolescent is gut-wrenching and requires unbelievable tenacity, especially as a single parent.  My muscle is halved by the sheer fact that I am one person without a partner who has my back. I can’t overemphasize the value of the power of two.  Would Batman have lived through so many perilous plights without Robin?  I doubt it.  It forces me to narrow my focus to the critical few and choose my battles judiciously.

I offer some insight into my own challenges. Although often met with eye-rolls, I believe firmly that giving my kids an age-appropriate awareness of the failures I’m dealing with teaches a valuable lesson around the importance of perseverance.  I have shared with them select aspects of my recent experience with clients who did not renew our contracts while on my watch.  They need to know that good people who work hard and have the best intentions sometimes lose. They need to know how to accept gracefully the consequences of losing.  They need to know how to squelch the panic and fear that comes when you are suddenly not doing the job anymore you’d thought you’d be in for a long time. They need to know that one of my responsibilities to them is to provide security, and to see how this can be accomplished even in turbulent times.

They also need to see me experiment and stretch myself into new endeavors so they are never afraid to pursue their own crazy dreams, and to seed in their developing minds the value of diversification and a Plan B.  Maybe the pursuit is an option for a rainy day, or will end in abandonment, but we’re all richer for the experience.

So what’s required to enable risk-taking and the failures that inevitably ensue?  In my opinion, a suit of armor and, in the absence of a crystal ball, a healthy dose of faith. 

We can lock our kids up in our ivory towers and hope their hair doesn’t grow long enough for their friends to climb up and misbehave while we’re sleeping at night (yes, a rendition of this played out at my home).  We can tether them to us, experiencing every minute of life together (I have often envied the bravery of the families who took their children on year-long hiking or biking trips across the Americas).  For most of us, these options are unrealistic, and delaying the inevitable.  The shift of control ultimately needs to happen.

I’m choosing a phased roll-out into the world, an unfurling of freedom, with the belief that I’m laying a really solid foundation for future good decision making.  Not all of my lessons are meant to be realized in the moment, but rather are absorbed into an arsenal of tools for life, to be retrieved when faced with a situation where they’re needed.

An important caveat is that my philosophy is aspirational.  They are after all, my babies.  While I’m usually pretty good about granting requests for freedom that have risk attached and calmly dealing with some pretty obscure and outlandish outcomes, there are times when I find the thought of another failure unbearable and I want nothing more than to pull up the drawbridge and retreat to the respite the moat affords. 

These are the times my children need my love the most, when they are stretching and finding their wings.  Ironically, they’re also the times when they are the hardest to love.  This is where the armor comes in handy. I often find that when I don’t know what to do, when they are at their worst, the best place my energy can go is into loving them more.  What else is there?