Something to think about:

It is my contention, experience, and observation over many, many years… that creating just a little bit of emotional discomfort or even outright ego-pain in parents by telling the truth about children growing through self-trust increases awareness, increases reflection and respect, and creates a better experience than if talking about childhood growth is kept painless, easy, and totally frictionless.

This is no joke, I am dead serious about this.

I don’t care if we’re talking about watching your child step into something hard for the first time or whether we’re talking about how you interpret that moment as a parent. I’m not saying this will always be the case for every situation, every family, or every person.

I admit there are times where what I’m about to say can work against you.

But in many cases it is worth at least experimenting with if nothing else - mentally, emotionally, and relationally.

i.e., with how you talk to your child, how you talk to yourself, whatever it is.

So, for example, take this moment watching my daughter before her first outrigger race.

She is very, very good at showing up for herself.

It literally is in her bones & wiring.

Her spirit comes from the way her father and I have learned to stand on our own two feet, and how we’ve modeled that for her. A powerful combo. And so she is phenomenally good at stepping into hard things when it comes to effort, presence, and courage.

She’s also very much a “let me do it myself” child.

But for the most part:

She loves the way showing up for something bigger than herself feels.

And she and I have talked about that sort of thing before (children owning their own growth vs parents trying to take credit).

Including how some parents want their children’s moments to look polished (polished and parent-approved) compared to letting a child’s effort be a little raw, a little unsure.

And when I told another parent I actually like when my daughter steps into something that stretches her, something a bit uncomfortable, they thought I was joking or just saying it to stir the pot.

Today it was outrigger; back then it showed up the same way on the pool deck. A parent gave another parent a “your child is so confident!” compliment, and the parent seemed pleased with how effortlessly their child handled things. I got no such testimonial, but that same child had told my daughter she wished she could do better; she was just too terrified that she’d pass out or be the only one still swimming a minute after her heat finished, and that she wouldn’t meet other people’s (especially the scary coaches’) expectations, even though she had the skills.

And then there was the swimmer who stepped up on the block, took a deep breath, and centered herself while her parent looked more unsettled than she did. It lasted only a second, but you could see exactly who was grounded.

And it reminded me again that these small moments shape children far more than any parent trying to control the situation ever could.

Does that mean letting a child do something harder and less controlled is always best?

No.

I have to say this for the “give me a checklist!” people.

But it does illustrate the phenomenon I’ll be showing you, starting with, ironically, an example from the pool deck.

If it seems like I am picking on these parents, I’m not. I greatly admire many of them and their intentions. Frankly, I am their biggest fan when it comes to caring. And when it comes to safety especially, everything I am saying here should be thrown out the window.

Anyway, that said:

When I watched my daughter, who used to compete in swimming, stand behind her lane before the race breathing through her nerves, I felt proud.

Which was great.

But what struck me was how hard it was for some parents to watch a child face her own uncertainty without stepping in.

One parent visibly tensed when their swimmer paused on the block, and you could see the parent’s own insecurity show up long before the child even moved.

This isn’t an exaggeration, neither.

Some parents have severe ego pain, easily 7 or 8 out of 10, on a typical day when their child acts independently.

Literally their first thought when watching their child step into something is an anxiety assessment check:

“Oh, only 4 out of 10 discomfort today, that’s not too bad…”

Or:

“Aaah… 9 out of 10 ego panic…”

And they head for their coping mechanisms as such discomfort can be cringe-inducing at best, or meltdown-inducing at worst.

Anyway, that pool deck was a BIG, heavy, even clunky experience for them. And watching their child stand there without needing them is legitimately emotionally painful.

And the only way they could tolerate it was by standing off to the side where they could micro-manage their reactions with minimal discomfort.

And they did.

And I can tell you, out of all the parents who watched their child do that race, my daughter was easily one of the most successful with it.

Not just in doing it, but in applying the lesson to herself, from which she created her own little “I can do hard things” file.

She just moved right through that moment even though it was uncomfortable for her.

And I thought of the swimmer who quietly told my daughter she wished she could try even though she was scared.

Originally, I specifically remember another parent cursing the idea that children should experience fear without immediate rescue and insisting children should be “more prepared.”

But it’s like I told them:

“No, I don’t do any of that. First of all, it’s not my strength. Second, the value of this moment comes from the child meeting it themselves. It becomes more engaging, more likely to be internalized, applied, and succeeded with because of its awkwardness and difficulty, not despite it.”

The irony? The same thing happened when my daughter was dancing.

She originally wanted the challenge to be a lot BIGGER.

She had planned to keep herself in a simpler routine, but she ended up taking on advanced choreography and performing multiple pieces and she grew faster because she kept showing up for all of it.

Whatever the case:

My point here is that discomfort NOT giving her an easily sanitized experience of passive safety is what helped the engagement of that moment with her. I believe that slight discomfort didn’t hurt the growth it amplified it.

Something else I believe to be true with this:

A lot of parenting, a lot of “talks,” and a lot of advice downloads are very passive.

They don’t engage naturally, and it’s very hard to stay focused for most.

Especially in this age of the TikTok-brain’d.

But when there’s slight discomfort there… it sets up the power of forward intent (i.e., doing a little more than you have to or are required to do), which I believe increases engagement, increases ownership, and increases the chances of a child learning it, applying it, and moving through it far more than any pep talk or easy-winning moment.

I kept thinking about the swimmer who finished slower but walked off the deck with a pride that had nothing to do with winning.

Now, you may be saying:

“Well, that’s a nice anecdote, nice anecdotal story. I still call nonsense on that.”

And that’s fine.

I would argue that people who call nonsense on this, if you look at their parenting outcomes, usually, for most of them, it speaks for itself compared to mine and others I know who have tapped into this phenomenon.

Irina Valeva