The Case for Imperfect Parenting

Of all the deadly sins, pride stands alone in it’s insidious and duplicitous nature as a means of our own destruction. Created of fear and veiled in self delusion it has the ability to strip us to the bone and by the time we realize it’s gangrenous stench, the rot is far too deep to treat. Pride whispers in our ears and assures us of our own power, glorifies the struggle of the singularity in a universe comprised of connection and constructs a facade of denial. Pride is a great storyteller as well. It will weave a tale of success and rebirth from the ashes of a catastrophe that was it’s own creation.

We all set out to be perfect fathers. We stroll out of the delivery room with a heart full of promises and a head full of ideas and therein is the first lie that pride brushes aside, because fear is sitting center table. Many of us ignore it. We learn and struggle and mostly do pretty darned good. In that we should celebrate, but pride pushes us further. A stern taskmaster, pride, in that once that needle is inserted the addiction is certain. The siren’s song of perfection plays in the background as we move through our lives. We begin to believe our own propaganda. We believe perfection attainable, when in truth we are anything but. Pride blinds us into believing we can hide all that haunts us and all that hurts us. But that band can only stretch so far and the further it is pulled the more it snaps back, and the more it stings when it does.

I wish I had let my children see me hurt more, because I am not capable of the strength I tried to portray at times. I hid it at some points and tried to be that superhero that I believed that I was. No, the superhero that pride convinced me I could be. I was far from it. I was human. In hiding it I did myself, and them, a great disservice. There isn’t a world devoid of hurt, absent of pain, and I’d have been a better father in that period by demonstrating how to deal with it than how to mask it. It is far more helpful for them and I to witness that recovering through pain is an accomplishment that pride can only envy.

I was wish I would have let them see my fear and even cowardice, at times. Indeed, I missed an opportunity to demonstrate that courage is a choice, not a genetic gift passed from parent to child. Let them see the fear and doubt and frailty of our human form so that they, in their trying moments, can emulate the truth of what we show. I wish I had let them see me act in spite of that fear. To fight back through a seemingly impossible situation wracked with doubt and uncertainty.

I wish I had been more honest with my kids. I wish that, confronted with my own dishonesty, I had acted more humble and more understanding. I wish that pride hadn’t made me double down on my insecurities and insist on the correctness of my self delusional righteousness. I missed an opportunity to demonstrate humility and build back a bridge stronger than the one I had burned. I wish that I had recognized the little white lies I told for ‘their own good’ were really for mine.

I wish, that in my moments of anger, I hadn’t missed an opportunity to demonstrate patience and self control. Though I have gotten better at both with age, I now recognize anger as a symptom of some conflict within me than the reaction to the outside influence that caused the eruption.

It is the same for arrogance, selfishness, cynicism, disrespect, inflexibility and foolishness. Likewise for self denial, irresponsibility and judgmental behavior. In each of these failings in my quest for perfection. pride robbed me of the ability to turn that failure into a victory.

We cannot hide the weaknesses we have from our children any more than we can mask the sun in the sky. We are human, after all, and that humanity will find it’s way through the cracks in that carefully constructed facade and in doing so demonstrate the charlatan that we’ve become. This is far more damaging to our children than being seen in a moment as something less than perfect. After all, what more can we do as fathers than demonstrate corrections for our mistakes? We are not perfect. We know it and they will know it too, eventually. At this age I am aware that the only one that truly bought this charade was me. Pride. Damn you.

Pride doesn’t just go before the fall, it keeps you on your knees. Not just in fatherhood, but in life. The delusions of grandeur and the warped self imagery pride enables you to envelop yourself in don’t just conspire to keep you from these important milestones with your kids, your family and your friends, they rob you of the ability to grow, adapt and change. The pride incited me to do stupid things to compensate for the failings I had and, even worse, deceive myself and others as to the extent of those failures.

Time has taught me that being an imperfect father is much better. Though I cannot rewrite history, I can certainly learn from it. In recognizing my imperfections I have been able to be a better person, though it’s a process, like many things. In abandoning the quest of being Superdad, I’ve found it more than rewarding being human dad. My frailties and failings, my faults and failures, they’re all a part of who I am and what I do with them is far more important than pretending that they can be abolished.

In truth, it’s more easily taught to be human than perfect. In the end, it is far more important to our children that we be human, and not of the superman. It is important that we use those faults and frailties within us as moments of teaching, as opportunities to grow. Both for us, the fathers, and for them, the child. In our lives as fathers, we will fail as often as we succeed. It is important that we recognize these failures as impermanent and as the opportunities that they are in order to teach not only our children but to learn ourselves.

The example that should be set is that we are not without sin, or pain or fault. It is that we are capable of greatness despite the frailty of our humanity. It is that with that the capacity for such much darkness we can still turn towards the light. It is moments of hopelessness that we can still find faith. And in every moment of failure, we can find an opportunity to rise higher. In moments of error we an right our paths. In that there is a nobility that I realize now is greater than that any superhero could manage.

Which is, of course, the most important lesson of all. I can demonstrate that I will love them as I expect to be loved. Not in spite of my flaws, but because of them. It wasn’t the best plan to try to be a Superman. Now I know it’s best to just be very human.