My son will turn 44 this August. Imagine THAT!! I still have a chopper on standby. It never ends. It’s that indescribable love. Thank you for your love story to start my day! I think I’ll text my son and see how he is. Haha
This comment made my morning, thank you, Debby. The numbers all start to sound nonsensical at some point, don’t they? And yes to the indescribable love. They’re always our babies, choppers on standby! 🚁
Love that “every child has to fall down the stairs at some point” conversation with your mother-in-law, Rob! My mother often told the story of how my three-year old brother had appeared at the bottom of the steep stairs, carrying me as a baby. He'd noticed I'd woken up in my cot and wanted to be helpful. No harm done, but blimey!
Beautiful, on our shifting perspectives as we – and our children – get older. I came to a similar conclusion about my parents – they did their best in the circumstances. My partner and I tried to do our best. Now my daughters and their partners are doing their best. What more can you do?!
Lovely. It took me a lifetime to understand that even terribly flawed parents are doing the best they can with the emotional toolkit they have. Nobody can plant this insight in your head. You have to stumble on it yourself.
Yes, so true, Rona. Thank you. I took so many decades to get there, but it feels like such a great loosening of something. I have family members who still look back with what sounds to me like a great deal of resentment, but I now know: everyone in their own way, in their own time, just like you said.
I so appreciate the lovely, thoughtful comment, as always.
Since our boys started school, time appeared to have markedly accelerated. Your posts always remind me to take stock and try to enjoy the present so thanks!
Thanks so much, Andy—that's really lovely to hear. School years (and sport seasons!) definitely seem to make the clock spin faster. How old are your boys now?
Lovely ages. And your writing about them is superb.
As for teens, even when they find you embarrassing, to me it all feels like a bit of a game, or farce... like something we're all just playing along with. Last night I came back after many hours being gone with my son for travel soccer games, and my daughter just wanted me to hang out and chat in her room with her. They'll be acting mortified one moment, sweet and cuddly the next. I can live with that!
Oh, my. This filled me with emotion, and a bit of longing to cuddle my five babies - now all in their 30s and 40s - just once more.
I’ve never been able to find it again but some years ago there was a great piece in the NYT in which the writer compared his own parenting (helocopterish) to his mother’s (loving but indifferent). He wrote of the expectations of parents by schools, coaches, etc, that hadn’t existed when he was growing up, and how he wondered if/how to bridge the gap.
Thank you, Kiki, that's beautiful. My son's 14, and I give him as many hugs as he'll allow—which is often just the side hug these days. I'll take it!
I'd be curious to read that NYT piece. I do wonder how the next generation will be, as parents. I hope to find out some day, watching as a grandparent.
In any case, I really appreciate your reading, and leaving this lovely comment.
Beautiful as always. Wow. I say this every time, and I will continue to say it: your writing is like a warm cup of coffee on a cold day, or the sound of a thunderstorm...just so comforting, grounded, intimate. Great stuff, and cheers to being the best parents we can all possibly be, whatever that ceiling is.
That was great! I’m not the parent I am because of my parents but in spite of them. I don’t know how I live 180 degrees different than they did. I’m sure my sister and I could write a Mommy/Daddy Dearest type book.
I wasn’t a helicopter dad. My hyper vigilance came from being a career firefighter/paramedic. I don’t have any regrets because my girls were given opportunities I never had and didn’t have to grow up in fear like I did. I didn’t get it all right but I did/do the best I could/can.
Oh, I know that feeling well, Michael—my sister and I have talked about that version of the memoir many times. It's so good to have a sibling—maybe the only person who knows how things were, like no one else ever could.
I'm a volunteer EMT, and was a firefighter for years, so that surely added to my hypervigilance. Somehow I'm pretty good about my daughter driving... which is not what I expected, having seeing some of the things I know you've seen, too.
I'm so thrilled you were able to give your kids so many things you didn't have. I love thinking about those things, too, with my kids. It's a real blessing. They hear stories from my childhood and it's like I'm talking about life on Mars—just inconceivable to them, thankfully.
I'm so happy to hear from you, especially given how much sounds like we had somewhat similar backgrounds. Thank you for reading, and for this fantastic comment.
Lovely essay, Rob. Your writing and story telling seems to only get better with every essay. I especially love how so much of your writing revolves around family. As a young man with no family, but future plans to have one, I am grateful to learn from you.
This is an interesting idea: everyone is always doing their best.
Scoping this down to a personal level, I know I have moments where I can be better. Some days I’m more harsh with my words than I should be, I don’t show as much patience or kindness as I ought to, and I prioritize myself over strangers. I know I have moments where I can be better.
But I think the idea that everyone else is doing their best is, as Derek Sivers might say, “useful not true.” If I interact with the world believing that everyone else could be doing better, my emotions and expectations will be outsourced to the actions of others. In other words, I strip myself of agency.
But if I believe everyone else is doing their best, the accountability for better outcomes is on me (Extreme Ownership). I maintain high agency.
I’m not convinced the idea I’m trying to convey is correct, but it’s my humble attempt at thought sparring with you to find truth.
Hope all is well my friend. Would love to connect over a call soon. — Jack
Yes, I think you're exactly right, Jack. It makes me think of the famous quote from Suzuki Roshi (paraphrasing): You're all perfect the way you are. And also, you could use some improvement.
I'm continually striving to be better—and by "better" these days, I mean more loving, more curious, more helpful. I did find it was beneficial in this regard to discontinue beating myself up for missteps, and to learn to let go of resentment against others in the same way. That doesn't mean not apologizing or not taking responsibility, of course. It just means not falling into spirals of resentment or regret, neither of which, in my experience, moves me forward in the way I hope to move.
Agency is important, as we can—and should!—ask for and hope for better of ourselves and others, going forward. We can set boundaries, and do everything to create the conditions for improvement in ourselves and others. But looking backward, there's learning from experience, and then there's wishing things had been different. The latter, imho, seems ultimately unhelpful.
Would love a call soon—let's make it happen. So great to hear from you, as always.
Wonderful, and beautifully written.! My daughter is 18, and my parents also… could not do better. I think our kids will sing a different, more joyful tune. I can tell that you have done a great job… and so can your daughter.
Thank you, Christina, all of that is so lovely to read. I do think they'll sing a different, more joyful tune. Here's to raising amazing daughters, doing the very best we could.
What kinds of freaks me (and probably a lot of Brits) out about Americans is that they appear to worry about all kinds of things but everybody carrying guns and ammo doesn’t seem to be one of them. Lovely piece, by the way. That last line! I think I’ve got something in my eye….
Oh, Miranda, SO many Americans are horrified by our gun culture and the awful consequences--- and many, many of us, are doing everything we can to change it. It's an uphill battle, especially now, and your support would be very much appreciated. Thank you.
Yes, this is exactly right. Thank you, Shelley. Such an uphill battle. It's hard to understand in the UK, because they don't really have the same money flowing into politics as we do here—nothing like our lobbies and Super PACs. But we keep trying, and doing what we can.
That is all we CAN do, right, our own part and joining with community? I love this ancient Jewish wisdom as I've become older: "It is not up to us to complete the task; neither are we free to desist from it."
Glad to hear it moved you, Miranda. And I agree with Shelley, below. I know how nuts most of what's going on here must look from the outside, but many of us are just as horrified and baffled as you are. We do what we can. Thanks so much for reading, and commenting—I really appreciate it.
It's hard to avoid, isn't it? I remember people saying that to me, when I had a baby strapped to me. I was like, what are they talking about? This morning alone felt like a year.
Always enjoy your writing, Rob. You write kids very well. I’ve had this thought while reading your posts a few times now, I wonder (I will look this up sometime, it just feels like a massive rabbit hole) who was the best writer to ever write kids well without having any of their own?
Not a dig on any childless writers at all, rather, a curiosity. Something like the child mispronouncing words— many writers can get the accuracy of that, from reading or babysitting or even nieces and nephews— but how that makes a parent feel, for the rest of their lives, and the ability to transfer that to the words on the page, feels like something someone would be hard pressed to do well without having felt that. You captured that so well with “skomething”
My favorite from my family was from my youngest daughter. She called toilet paper “puppy tyler”. We have no Tylers anywhere in at least 4 generations of our family, on any side. She just came up with “puppy tyler” on her own. I’ll never forget that as long as I have a healthy enough mind.
Thanks so much, Matt. I really appreciate the skomething call-out. "Puppy tyler" is particularly brilliant. Worth holding onto for a lifetime, for sure.
I so appreciate your reading, and this thoughtful comment. I wonder about the best writer without kids to write about kids. Very good question!
Hi Matt! I enjoyed reading your thoughtful musings on "writing kids well" from being/not being a parent. I have no idea if I have written or could write kids well, but I know from being an older sister, having been a kid myself, having delighted in the company of some great kids in aged 11 hours old till they finished grad school, and knowing what it feels like to melt in the delicious marveling of someone deeply loved whom I cannot bear to think of living without, what I would draw from if I ever made the attempt.
I do love getting to read stories about being a dad/mom from writers as attuned as Rob!
Ah, so kind of you, Charisse. And I love this description so much: "knowing what it feels like to melt in the delicious marveling of someone deeply loved whom I cannot bear to think of living without". Beautiful stuff.
I have a 17 year old and have totally caught myself saying “I remember when my kids were that age”, and “enjoy it, it goes by so fast,” yikes! And I think we all want to protect our kids from all types of misfortune. The fact that we have flaws as parents is probably a good thing that helps them become resilient.
Yes, totally agreed. Our kids have had plenty of opportunities for resilience anyway, as we can't possibly shield them from everything. And my son did end up falling down the stairs anyway—in our own house!
My daughter got air quotes confused when she was about seven. She’d come into the kitchen and tell me she was “hungry” or we’d be going somewhere and she’d say it was “time to go.” I didn’t correct her and it still makes me laugh. I loved this, Rob. And yes, I think everyone is doing their best and it’s such a relief to put down the weight of blame and resentment. I feel sad for people who carry it around for decades, it’s got to be exhausting.
Thank you, Ally. I so appreciate your reading, and I love the air quote confusion. I'm guessing it's "still a thing" in your house?
I gather from your writing that we had similar-ish parents in certain ways. A lot of my friends growing up in the 70's/80s had such challenging parents, too. I barely knew anyone whose parents were together, or who came from stable homes. It can be a lot to let go of resentment for things that also really were devastating to experience (it sure took me well into middle age), but moving in that direction eventually sure felt like a relief.
My son will turn 44 this August. Imagine THAT!! I still have a chopper on standby. It never ends. It’s that indescribable love. Thank you for your love story to start my day! I think I’ll text my son and see how he is. Haha
This comment made my morning, thank you, Debby. The numbers all start to sound nonsensical at some point, don’t they? And yes to the indescribable love. They’re always our babies, choppers on standby! 🚁
Love that “every child has to fall down the stairs at some point” conversation with your mother-in-law, Rob! My mother often told the story of how my three-year old brother had appeared at the bottom of the steep stairs, carrying me as a baby. He'd noticed I'd woken up in my cot and wanted to be helpful. No harm done, but blimey!
Beautiful, on our shifting perspectives as we – and our children – get older. I came to a similar conclusion about my parents – they did their best in the circumstances. My partner and I tried to do our best. Now my daughters and their partners are doing their best. What more can you do?!
Yes, Wendy, exactly—what more can you do?!
What a story about your brother carrying you downstairs! Sweet and harrowing, in equal measure.
My mother-in-law and I have had many similar conversations over the years. I'm still learning a lot from her, thankfully.
You always leave such wonderful comments, and I so appreciate it, every time. Thank you for sharing, as well.
Lovely. It took me a lifetime to understand that even terribly flawed parents are doing the best they can with the emotional toolkit they have. Nobody can plant this insight in your head. You have to stumble on it yourself.
Yes, so true, Rona. Thank you. I took so many decades to get there, but it feels like such a great loosening of something. I have family members who still look back with what sounds to me like a great deal of resentment, but I now know: everyone in their own way, in their own time, just like you said.
I so appreciate the lovely, thoughtful comment, as always.
Another brilliant read, Rob.
Since our boys started school, time appeared to have markedly accelerated. Your posts always remind me to take stock and try to enjoy the present so thanks!
Thanks so much, Andy—that's really lovely to hear. School years (and sport seasons!) definitely seem to make the clock spin faster. How old are your boys now?
Absolutely. Our guys are 5 and 7 now - I’m aware the clock is ticking on how long they want to hang out and don’t find me embarrassing! Ha.
Lovely ages. And your writing about them is superb.
As for teens, even when they find you embarrassing, to me it all feels like a bit of a game, or farce... like something we're all just playing along with. Last night I came back after many hours being gone with my son for travel soccer games, and my daughter just wanted me to hang out and chat in her room with her. They'll be acting mortified one moment, sweet and cuddly the next. I can live with that!
It is school isn't it? 😪🥲
Yep! 100%. Think it’s the routine of it all, the weeks and months just fly by, don’t they?!
Absolutely. The routine activities blur the days. I have to actively fight that sensation!
Oh, my. This filled me with emotion, and a bit of longing to cuddle my five babies - now all in their 30s and 40s - just once more.
I’ve never been able to find it again but some years ago there was a great piece in the NYT in which the writer compared his own parenting (helocopterish) to his mother’s (loving but indifferent). He wrote of the expectations of parents by schools, coaches, etc, that hadn’t existed when he was growing up, and how he wondered if/how to bridge the gap.
Your piece is just lovely. Thank you.
Helicopterish. Sorry.
Thank you, Kiki, that's beautiful. My son's 14, and I give him as many hugs as he'll allow—which is often just the side hug these days. I'll take it!
I'd be curious to read that NYT piece. I do wonder how the next generation will be, as parents. I hope to find out some day, watching as a grandparent.
In any case, I really appreciate your reading, and leaving this lovely comment.
Beautiful as always. Wow. I say this every time, and I will continue to say it: your writing is like a warm cup of coffee on a cold day, or the sound of a thunderstorm...just so comforting, grounded, intimate. Great stuff, and cheers to being the best parents we can all possibly be, whatever that ceiling is.
Thanks so much, my friend. I appreciate you!
Loved reading that. My daughter is 30, lives on a different continent, but wouldn’t hesitate to grab my hand to cross the road.
Thank you, Stephen! I so love hearing that.
That was great! I’m not the parent I am because of my parents but in spite of them. I don’t know how I live 180 degrees different than they did. I’m sure my sister and I could write a Mommy/Daddy Dearest type book.
I wasn’t a helicopter dad. My hyper vigilance came from being a career firefighter/paramedic. I don’t have any regrets because my girls were given opportunities I never had and didn’t have to grow up in fear like I did. I didn’t get it all right but I did/do the best I could/can.
Oh, I know that feeling well, Michael—my sister and I have talked about that version of the memoir many times. It's so good to have a sibling—maybe the only person who knows how things were, like no one else ever could.
I'm a volunteer EMT, and was a firefighter for years, so that surely added to my hypervigilance. Somehow I'm pretty good about my daughter driving... which is not what I expected, having seeing some of the things I know you've seen, too.
I'm so thrilled you were able to give your kids so many things you didn't have. I love thinking about those things, too, with my kids. It's a real blessing. They hear stories from my childhood and it's like I'm talking about life on Mars—just inconceivable to them, thankfully.
I'm so happy to hear from you, especially given how much sounds like we had somewhat similar backgrounds. Thank you for reading, and for this fantastic comment.
Lovely essay, Rob. Your writing and story telling seems to only get better with every essay. I especially love how so much of your writing revolves around family. As a young man with no family, but future plans to have one, I am grateful to learn from you.
This is an interesting idea: everyone is always doing their best.
Scoping this down to a personal level, I know I have moments where I can be better. Some days I’m more harsh with my words than I should be, I don’t show as much patience or kindness as I ought to, and I prioritize myself over strangers. I know I have moments where I can be better.
But I think the idea that everyone else is doing their best is, as Derek Sivers might say, “useful not true.” If I interact with the world believing that everyone else could be doing better, my emotions and expectations will be outsourced to the actions of others. In other words, I strip myself of agency.
But if I believe everyone else is doing their best, the accountability for better outcomes is on me (Extreme Ownership). I maintain high agency.
I’m not convinced the idea I’m trying to convey is correct, but it’s my humble attempt at thought sparring with you to find truth.
Hope all is well my friend. Would love to connect over a call soon. — Jack
Yes, I think you're exactly right, Jack. It makes me think of the famous quote from Suzuki Roshi (paraphrasing): You're all perfect the way you are. And also, you could use some improvement.
I'm continually striving to be better—and by "better" these days, I mean more loving, more curious, more helpful. I did find it was beneficial in this regard to discontinue beating myself up for missteps, and to learn to let go of resentment against others in the same way. That doesn't mean not apologizing or not taking responsibility, of course. It just means not falling into spirals of resentment or regret, neither of which, in my experience, moves me forward in the way I hope to move.
Agency is important, as we can—and should!—ask for and hope for better of ourselves and others, going forward. We can set boundaries, and do everything to create the conditions for improvement in ourselves and others. But looking backward, there's learning from experience, and then there's wishing things had been different. The latter, imho, seems ultimately unhelpful.
Would love a call soon—let's make it happen. So great to hear from you, as always.
Wonderful, and beautifully written.! My daughter is 18, and my parents also… could not do better. I think our kids will sing a different, more joyful tune. I can tell that you have done a great job… and so can your daughter.
Thank you, Christina, all of that is so lovely to read. I do think they'll sing a different, more joyful tune. Here's to raising amazing daughters, doing the very best we could.
What kinds of freaks me (and probably a lot of Brits) out about Americans is that they appear to worry about all kinds of things but everybody carrying guns and ammo doesn’t seem to be one of them. Lovely piece, by the way. That last line! I think I’ve got something in my eye….
Oh, Miranda, SO many Americans are horrified by our gun culture and the awful consequences--- and many, many of us, are doing everything we can to change it. It's an uphill battle, especially now, and your support would be very much appreciated. Thank you.
Yes, this is exactly right. Thank you, Shelley. Such an uphill battle. It's hard to understand in the UK, because they don't really have the same money flowing into politics as we do here—nothing like our lobbies and Super PACs. But we keep trying, and doing what we can.
That is all we CAN do, right, our own part and joining with community? I love this ancient Jewish wisdom as I've become older: "It is not up to us to complete the task; neither are we free to desist from it."
YES! Love that, Shelley. I'm going to keep this one with me. Thank you for that.
Thank you for your wonderful column, Rob. I'm so glad I discovered you, and look forward to your next post!
Glad to hear it moved you, Miranda. And I agree with Shelley, below. I know how nuts most of what's going on here must look from the outside, but many of us are just as horrified and baffled as you are. We do what we can. Thanks so much for reading, and commenting—I really appreciate it.
The touch of a daughter’s hand is forgiveness enough.
Indeed. Thank you, Robert.
Another beautiful piece that certainly resonated with me. Thank you.
A very sweet essay, thank you.
I, too, get misty-eyed at a random baby seen here or there. I often just blurt out to the parent, " I remember when mine were that age!"
It's hard to avoid, isn't it? I remember people saying that to me, when I had a baby strapped to me. I was like, what are they talking about? This morning alone felt like a year.
I really appreciate the kind words, Pamelita.
Always enjoy your writing, Rob. You write kids very well. I’ve had this thought while reading your posts a few times now, I wonder (I will look this up sometime, it just feels like a massive rabbit hole) who was the best writer to ever write kids well without having any of their own?
Not a dig on any childless writers at all, rather, a curiosity. Something like the child mispronouncing words— many writers can get the accuracy of that, from reading or babysitting or even nieces and nephews— but how that makes a parent feel, for the rest of their lives, and the ability to transfer that to the words on the page, feels like something someone would be hard pressed to do well without having felt that. You captured that so well with “skomething”
My favorite from my family was from my youngest daughter. She called toilet paper “puppy tyler”. We have no Tylers anywhere in at least 4 generations of our family, on any side. She just came up with “puppy tyler” on her own. I’ll never forget that as long as I have a healthy enough mind.
Appreciate your writing. 🙏
Thanks so much, Matt. I really appreciate the skomething call-out. "Puppy tyler" is particularly brilliant. Worth holding onto for a lifetime, for sure.
I so appreciate your reading, and this thoughtful comment. I wonder about the best writer without kids to write about kids. Very good question!
Hi Matt! I enjoyed reading your thoughtful musings on "writing kids well" from being/not being a parent. I have no idea if I have written or could write kids well, but I know from being an older sister, having been a kid myself, having delighted in the company of some great kids in aged 11 hours old till they finished grad school, and knowing what it feels like to melt in the delicious marveling of someone deeply loved whom I cannot bear to think of living without, what I would draw from if I ever made the attempt.
I do love getting to read stories about being a dad/mom from writers as attuned as Rob!
Ah, so kind of you, Charisse. And I love this description so much: "knowing what it feels like to melt in the delicious marveling of someone deeply loved whom I cannot bear to think of living without". Beautiful stuff.
I have a 17 year old and have totally caught myself saying “I remember when my kids were that age”, and “enjoy it, it goes by so fast,” yikes! And I think we all want to protect our kids from all types of misfortune. The fact that we have flaws as parents is probably a good thing that helps them become resilient.
Yes, totally agreed. Our kids have had plenty of opportunities for resilience anyway, as we can't possibly shield them from everything. And my son did end up falling down the stairs anyway—in our own house!
My daughter got air quotes confused when she was about seven. She’d come into the kitchen and tell me she was “hungry” or we’d be going somewhere and she’d say it was “time to go.” I didn’t correct her and it still makes me laugh. I loved this, Rob. And yes, I think everyone is doing their best and it’s such a relief to put down the weight of blame and resentment. I feel sad for people who carry it around for decades, it’s got to be exhausting.
Thank you, Ally. I so appreciate your reading, and I love the air quote confusion. I'm guessing it's "still a thing" in your house?
I gather from your writing that we had similar-ish parents in certain ways. A lot of my friends growing up in the 70's/80s had such challenging parents, too. I barely knew anyone whose parents were together, or who came from stable homes. It can be a lot to let go of resentment for things that also really were devastating to experience (it sure took me well into middle age), but moving in that direction eventually sure felt like a relief.