My grandparent’s generation placed much faith in authoritarianism. My parents paid dearly it; things like back-talking, failing to listen, poor grades, and general rebellion would get them in a world of trouble.

Sometime in the mid-’60s, America’s posture towards authority – especially parental authority – began to shift. It’s a many-faceted story that I don’t completely understand, but along with a growing sense of individualism came a disdain for someone telling anyone else what to do.

For the parenting scene, that meant a full pendulum swing away from my grandparent’s authoritarianism into the laissez-faire style of parenting that raised so many from my generation. It was a good shift; the unquestioned authority of the Boomer generation needed revision – and a stout challenge.

But today’s parenting culture does anything but worship authority. Kids should figure things out on their own. We don’t want to hurt them, we want to encourage, release, let them be who they’re supposed to be, etc.

You can imagine the confusion I’ve experienced as a post-middle-aged rando with no prior parenting experience. What right do I have to tell anyone what to do? Won’t it hurt my kids if I exert too much authority?

I don’t want to break their poor little hearts.

Hide

As a former pastor/leader, I’ve experimented with authority. More times than not, my victims got mad, hurt, vindictive, etc. Few responded well, so I learned to “hide” when things got rough.

It’s a leadership style that has leaked into my parenting, and my kids have suffered for it. They actually don’t work things out on their own. I agree that they need the freedom to develop into some semblance of adulthood, but that doesn’t happen without boundaries, and boundaries don’t happen without authority.

The right kind of authority.

Now, in my mid-fifties, I’ve learned that I’m “dad.” Along with that comes the awful job of functioning in a role that requires leadership, vision, authority, and much travail. If I excuse myself, hiding behind work, hobbies, addiction, whatever, my kids will suffer.

But “hiding” makes sense. The way my family suffers when I check out isn’t always apparent. The effects won’t manifest themselves until the kids are older. It seems fine to go and do something else, only checking in occasionally, when I’m in the mood.

Ride

Some parents have a tendency to “ride” their kids, constantly nagging, punishing, critiquing, correcting, etc. While this style is far more engaged than “hiding,” it’s not a healthy expression of authority, and certainly won’t give a kid the wiggle room she needs to develop.

If “hiding” gives a kid an unhealthy amount of freedom, “riding” gives them an unhealthy amount of boundary. Both parenting modes are destructive.

I know some whose parents were “riders.” These friends have a difficult time relaxing. living like there’s always someone waiting around the corner with a critique, or a command.

Preside

Turns out that boundaries and freedom are important but knowing which one to apply and when to apply it is a challenge. If I was a perfectly healthy person, I’d have a better grasp on when to push, when to relax, when to punish, and when to party.

It’s the unhealthy parts that incite me to “hide” when I need to engage, or “ride” my kids when I feel like they’re screwing everything up.

It’s better to “preside.”

As a parent, I have authority. Regardless of what I choose to do with it, it exists purely by virtue of my office as “dad.” For my kids to develop into who they’re meant to be, I have to wield this authority in the healthiest way possible.

None of that happens without vision: I need to operate within a clear picture of my kids’ success, and what it will take to help them get there.

Too many times, a vision for personal comfort is what drives me. I want my kids to behave because it’s difficult when they don’t. I also don’t want my kids to be an embarrassment; when they misbehave in public, or in front of friends and family, I’m harder on them, worried about what others must be thinking.

That’s not vision or authority. It’s full-on selfishness.

When I’m in a healthy place, I want my oldest, for example, to excel in academics, to have all the freedom and resources she needs to win in that arena. That’s what she loves. Our middle kid is an Amazonian beast of an athlete who loves sports and is finding a sense of self there. Our youngest is a tortured artist who expresses herself 24/7 through song, dance, and humor.

My kids find a ton of meaning in their zones, but to excel in these, they’re going to have to be emotionally strong, responsible, intelligent, and disciplined. If they can’t handle the rigors of room-cleaning, homeworking, clothes-folding, respect, and the basics of relationships, they won’t get far.

We have rules in our house, and I preside over them, not because they make life easier, but because a good life requires them.

“I Hate Football”

Amara didn’t hesitate when we asked if she wanted to sign up for football. But when we arrived at her first practice, all of her triggers began to fire: she didn’t know much about the game, she was the only girl on the team, she wasn’t as talented as they are, etc.

The first four weeks were miserable. She would stand idly, waiting for coach to tell her what to do. You could see the fear and insecurity in her body. On the ride home, every week, she’d beg me to quit.

It stirred up so many of my own triggers. I played football in Jr. high for an entire year and had no idea what was going on. Forcing her to stay in the game was murder.

During week five’s practice, coach pulled her aside and told her to rush the quarterback. That’s when it clicked. I’m not sure why, but from that point forward she quickly blossomed into a football superstar. Now she begs for more.

That’s one of the few moments where I’ve managed to exercise my authority in a healthy way. Hopefully it’ll lead to more.

Ultimately, I don’t preside over “good kids,” or “a well-run household.” That’s boring. I need a more compelling vision if I’m to navigate the mountain of travail that comes part and parcel with good parenting.