There’s an old joke that goes something like this:
What you thought that becoming a dad would be - playing catch, reading bedtime stories, tea parties, watching the children grow up.
What it actually is – turning lights off in empty rooms.
For me, this is no joke. Most of my parenting consists in flipping light switches. For some reason, the kids are adamantly opposed to this simple physical operation of moving a switch from “on” to “off”. I’ve tried everything. I’ve reasoned with them, threatened, guilt-tripped. I’ve asked if their arms, hands, and fingers work and if I need to take them to a doctor. I’ve explained that “Daddy has to pay for the lights you leave on,” and I’ve sarcastically had them watch while I showed them how to flip a switch (sarcasm, I can say from experience, is a terrible parenting technique). I’ve thought about cutting the electricity. For whatever reason, year after year, I just couldn’t let it go. I would actually get angry. Really and truly mad. Why won’t they listen to me, I wondered.
To this very day, most of the lights are on in my house most of the time. I tirelessly turn them off and somehow they switch right back on as soon as my back is turned even though the room seems to have remained empty. I still remind the children to turn them off and explain why I prefer them not to be constantly left on (it is my duty, after all, to try to instill responsible habits into them). A few of the kids will occasionally remember but it’s a rare occurrence.
One thing has changed, though – I don’t get angry about it anymore.
My wife and I recently celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary and I like to think we’ve matured at least a little bit in that time, both in our parenting and our spousal relationship. I’ve learned to let go of some of the little things that used to drive me up a wall. I’ve realized that I don’t get to have my way all the time, especially in the little things that really aren’t that important. I’ve realized also, that in many little ways, I can be the annoying one. It’s simply a fact of living with other people that there are small tensions and differences of opinion.
I’ve learned, for instance, that I don’t need to jump into every project she starts in order to correct her or make suggestions she doesn’t really need. First, because it has come to my attention that my corrections are not always correct. Second, because I’ve realized that there is more than one way to accomplish a task and it doesn’t have to be my way. Over the years, I’ve figured out that it’s okay to shrug and allow things to play out without my constant input.
In my work career, I’ve painfully, slowly learned the same lesson. I have always been the kind of person who has a strong, distinct sense of how I want to accomplish my tasks. But sometimes the boss wanted the task accomplished a different way, or indicated he wanted a different task accomplished first, or gave the task to a co-worker I thought was doing it wrong. I would seethe with frustration. I would complain to anyone who would listen. Sometimes I would even disobey the boss. I’ve learned the same lesson in work that I had to learn in marriage. Sometimes I simply need to shrug, admit I don’t know everything, or at least acknowledge that the little things that stressed me out weren’t all that important, and move on.
It seems to me that being accommodating in this way is a kind of virtue. It shows respect for other people by allowing them space to do things their way and, in the case of the always-turned-on-lights, the ability to regulate emotions and not sweat the small stuff.
It adds up to a big improvement. I find that I’m less stressed, less inclined to overt hubris, and less inclined to complaining. I have more peace, get along with others better, and humbly fit into the place that is fitting for me. I didn’t realize it, but trying to control small details was causing a steady accumulation of stress that, over time, would add up (don’t ask my kids about the days I would get home from work, see a messy kitchen, and have a meltdown). The accumulation of these tiny dissatisfactions are what make us unhappy in a big way.
Shrugging and saying this doesn’t actually matter that much makes everyone so much happier.
At first, it wasn’t natural for me to shrug off anything, even little things. I knew I wanted to calm down but didn’t know how because I was headstrong. So I practiced a few simple habits.
Keep in mind the other person’s perspective. They may have a good reason for what they do or how they accomplish tasks. Their experience is not mine. Always give them the benefit of the doubt.
Be gracious and kind. My focus was always on being efficient and correct, but we aren’t machines and that isn’t how people ought to relate to each other.
Re-frame the context. This is when I ask myself if what I’m worked up about really matters, and where I remind myself that it isn’t a personal affront if someone doesn’t do exactly what I want. For instance, the lights being left on in my house isn’t because my family hates me and wants me to suffer. For some reason, kids everywhere all over the world simply don’t think about turning off lights.
Don’t obsess over perfection. If something bothers me, it doesn’t mean we have to go on high alert. Life isn’t perfect. Other people aren’t perfect. Just because they don’t fit my idealized perfect vision doesn’t mean anyone has done anything wrong. We’re all just people trying our best.
Maintain focus. Fretting over small details and ruminating about what I can do better than everyone else is a waste of energy. I want to save that energy for what really matters, not anxiety and brooding and complaining.
In the end, I have to ask myself, should I demand everything and everyone around me to be perfect and exactly how I want, obsessing over all the small details, or am I much better off living with gratitude for all the diverse, interesting, challenging people God has put in my life? Do I need the lights to always be turned off in an efficient manner, or do I prefer to have my children filling up the house, keeping me off balance, and, yes, not always listening to me. I’ll take the latter every time. I’ll take less fretting about the lights being turned off and more time to play catch in the yard and attend my daughter’s tea parties.
