My teenagers think I'm lame

The other night we were playing a game as a family. One of those goofy games where you make up answers and try to be funny.

At the end, my 15-year-old daughter looked at me and said, "You weren't very funny. I thought you were funnier."

My daughter is pretty direct and matter-of-fact. I laughed when she said it. And then later that evening, as I was falling asleep, I was replaying that game in my head. I thought I was kind of funny. Well, that one thing I wrote down was pretty dumb. I should have written the other thing instead. Well... teenagers these days are actually pretty dumb. I don't think I'd even really want my teenagers to think I'm funny. I know I'm funny. I was voted class clown. I had a cool group of friends in high school.

So I laid there feeling unfunny and uncool, more affected by her comment than I'd like to admit.

I'm tempted to want my kids to look up to me in every way possible.

Sometimes my kids make fun of my jeans, my socks, my shoes. The way I say things. They're being playful. It's usually a response to me taking friendly jabs at the dumb terms they use, the mom jeans they wear and all the things they do that were deeply uncool when I was their age.

My teens actually seem pretty cool. They seem to have cool friends. Some of those cool friends have cool parents. Sometimes I'll see those parents being pretty cool in front of my kids and their friends. It kind of makes me want to be cool.

It's human nature to want to be liked. But we know we shouldn’t try to be everything to everyone. Being willing to be disliked is a sign of maturity. Even though we know that in our heads, it still stings when someone doesn't like you. That includes your own kid.

Here's what I've learned.

First, the number one way to look ridiculous is to try being cool. Ugh. Hate to admit that I've done this. It’s truly cringy to watch adults trying to get kid’s attention and approval.

Next, it's okay to want my teenagers to like me. It's good and natural to want to be friends with them. The problem comes when being liked is the highest value. When you avoid the hard conversation because it will cause conflict. When you dodge the tough call because it will upset your kids. When you don't hold the boundary because none of their friends have the same rules.

So what's the vision I'm actually working toward?

I hope to be deeply connected friends with my kids when they're adults. I want to be proud of the character that formed through hard conversations and difficult decisions. I want to do everything I can to help them avoid the pitfalls that come from always doing the easy thing. I want them to look back years from now (maybe when they have their own kids) and say, "I get it now. I was angry and didn't understand then. But he did that because he loved me."

And even if they never fully understand some of the boundaries that felt unfair, and even if they never appreciate what I made them do that other kids didn't have to experience, I'll know it was the right call. We should be attuned to our teenagers' emotions, but their reactions shouldn't determine whether we're doing what we know is right.

Leading well is hard. Sometimes you sacrifice in a way your kids immediately see and appreciate, building leadership capital. For me, that looks like apologizing without qualification when I make mistakes or showing genuine interest in how they're doing without trying to fix all their problems.

Sometimes you spend that leadership capital making a hard call they disagree with: delaying a phone or social media, not letting them go to a party you don't feel right about.

Sometimes your leadership capital lets you lead with influence, helping your kids arrive at the right decision themselves. Other times, you let them make a poor decision precisely because you love them. Because you know that failure is how some of the most important lessons are learned, even when it kills you to watch.

Sometimes you use authority and force to protect them. Other times you use influence while giving up control. And at all times, you work to stay connected, even when they don't like you. These dynamics are impossible to balance perfectly. Leadership takes initiative, cares deeply, and moves forward with the courage to make the hard call and with the humility to admit when you've gotten it wrong.

Keep fighting instead of checking out. Make the hard call. Don't give in to your feelings in the moment. Don't let your kids' feelings have outsized influence over your own. Stay connected while doing what you know is right. And keep the end game in sight: the adults you're working to form.

- Andrew