Take your own advice
Or, "things I tell my kids to do that I then absolutely do not do myself"
It’s summertime, and that means my kids have to go somewhere. Like many parents, we’ve cobbled together a tenuous patchwork of childcare for the summer: a primary sitter, a secondary sitter, a smattering of day camps—things that will provide enriching and memory-building experiences for the summer, but more importantly things that will allow us to function as working adults.
This weekend, my son expressed apprehension about an upcoming week at a new-to-him day camp, a place that my wife had to plan eight months in advance to sign up for and one that would surely be a great deal of fun for both him and my daughter.
“I’m not going to know anyone there,” he worried aloud.
“Yes you are,” I said, reminding him of multiple close friends of his who would also be going. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”
“Why can’t I just stay home?”
“Buddy, you just have to keep an open mind about new experiences,” I countered. “If you’re willing to try new things, you’re bound to have a great time.”
He didn’t quite accept my approach, but he knows better than to keep at it when I’m using my Sitcom Dad voice, so he let it drop.
I left his room, closed the door, and exhaled.
Man, I am so full of it.
I think I’m a decent parent. I mean—I try to be one, at least. I say a lot of smart, thoughtful, and hopefully-reassuring things. I offer my kids good advice on how to navigate through life and become a happy, healthy, well-rounded person… and then I don’t take any of that advice myself. I mean, “keep an open mind and try new things?” C’mon. There’s no way I’m doing that.
Of course, that’s just one of my many good-advice hypocrisies.
Let’s review.
“Get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow, you’re going to want to be rested.”
Nope, don’t do that.
I mean, yes, I do have a big meeting in the morning, and a huge deadline push this week. I do intend to get a full night’s sleep.
I just have to read the Wikipedia article for “boat” first.
[looks up from reading the article on the Byzantine–Sasanian War of 602–628, realizes it’s now 2am] ah nuts
“You need to put down those screens and do something constructive. They’re rotting your brain.”
I didn’t believe this when my parents said it to me, but I believe it when I say it to my kids. Here’s the thing: not only am I also always in front of a screen, but my screens are way worse than theirs. They’re just playing nice little video games or watching cartoons or something like that. There’s no one yelling on social media on their screens. There’s no horrifying news. There’s no Microsoft Teams.
I should be so lucky as to look at screens like those.
“Don’t sit like that. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
I’m being especially hypocritical with this one, because their bodies are made of cartilage, rubber bands and adamantium. They could watch TV while dangling upside-down from the ceiling fan and be just fine.
I can injure myself reaching for a pen under my desk, and yet still I slouch.
It’s like I’m daring my discs to slip.
“You have to eat a real meal. You can’t survive on just snacks.”
This is objectively untrue. I lived the entire 2002-03 undergraduate school year off Nature Valley bars and vending machine cappuccinos, and I turned out just fine.1
“Do you really want to spend your money on this thing, or do you just feel that way because it’s in front of you right now?”
Ooh, a band I like has a limited-edition vinyl coming out of an album I already own! That’ll look great on the shelf of records I never listen to!
“Ignore what that person said. Their opinion doesn’t matter; what matters is what you think about yourself.”
I am still thinking about things people said to me during the Clinton administration.
“Don’t use bad language. It makes people think less of you.”
I’ve really tried to clean up my language since I became a parent, but I can’t say that I always succeed at it. It’s a creative failing more than anything—there are plenty of ways to express yourself without swearing.
More importantly, if you do limit your swearing, it’s really effective when you do. I think I’ve heard my mother swear three times in my life, and lemme tell you what: I *knew* I’d [expletive]’d up then.
“No one is good at everything the first time. You need to stick with it and work hard if you want to be good.”
I’ve said this about riding bikes, swinging a baseball bat, archery, musical instruments, snapping fingers, using a pogo stick, playing chess, and few dozen other things.
Personally, I got as far as playing Deep Purple’s “Smoke on the Water” before I gave up on guitar lessons.
That song is three chords.
“You can be anything you want in life if you believe in yourself.”
My daughter recently told me that she plans to be a pop-star veterinarian artist.
Meanwhile, I get imposter syndrome in just like, a conference room.
“Is this actually worth getting this upset about?”
More than any piece of fatherly advice that I dispense, this is the one that I could stand to take the most.
I don’t use it to minimize their feelings, but only to bring in perspective when the reaction is out of proportion to the slight—a refusal to play a card game a certain way or an inadvertent shove turning into The Greatest Tragedy Of My Life.
I’ll remind them that the way they feel when they get this mad about something is likely far worse than the actual injury (whether physical or emotional) feels, and that they have the power to brush things off and move on. It doesn’t always work, but it does bear repeating—and reminding myself of when I’m worked up about something that probably isn’t worth the stress I’ve imposed on myself.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a big day tomorrow.
I need to stay up until 3am slouching in front of a screen and cursing at strangers.
—Scott Hines (@actioncookbook)
What’s some good advice that you like to give but don’t end up taking?
Anytime anyone says “… and I turned out just fine!”, you can be confident that they did not.
> “You have to eat a real meal. You can’t survive on just snacks.”
A couple two tree years ago, I was in Chicago for my ex's wedding reception and screwed up some timings and I ended up unable to find any actual real quick food. I ended up eating, as my entire dinner, a package of chocolate-coated nuts from 7-Eleven. I then proceeded to get rip-roaringly drunk, as one does.
I used an entire decade of get-out-of-hangover-free cards on that "real meal". Believe in miracles.
"Don't sweat the petty stuff, don't pet the sweaty stuff" -graphic designer at work had this sign posted and I always laughed at it. What no one tells you is that it tends towards being petty.
The advice I avoid the moment is lift heavy things (besides self) and move ... both of which are important as you approach geezer status. Now please remove yourself from my lawn.