I recently had a spirited debate with an acquittance about conflicting parenting styles, and I politely laughed when he declared that “it’s impossible to be your child’s friend.” I didn’t want to be disrespectful towards him, but my laughter slipped out like a random sneeze.
Thankfully this guy was not easily offended and wanted to hear my views on the subject.
I was quite blunt and told him I couldn’t disagree more, as my daughter and I had been good friends since she was young. In fact, despite the warnings I heard about parents being friends with their child, she in fact hasn’t turned into a selfish, out of control menace living the thug life (yet).
Maybe in time she will. Who knows what wonderful things the future holds!
For now though, I am quite proud of the person my daughter has become… well, usually.
When you first jump into fatherhood, you get swamped with a plethora of well-meaning advice about how to raise your child. Some of what I was told by experienced parents was invaluable to my growth as a dad, other advice, not so much (no, Uncle Earl, Vodka doesn’t cure hiccups in a toddler!).
One tip I seemed to hear consistently was to avoid being my kid’s buddy, because it simply wasn’t possible. So, I thought to myself, “challenge accepted!” because I wanted to be a rebel dad… the cool dad!
The truth is, I grew up having a shitty relationship with my father and came to hate and resent him all the way through my teen years. I didn’t want my child to grow up that same way and feel such animosity towards me. I wanted to be a friend to my child and be the kind of dad she could always come and talk to – about anything.
However, I also felt it was necessary to be a disciplinarian that taught my kid the value of hard work, respect towards others and taking responsibility for your actions.
Of course, I was just an expectant dad when I conceived this grandiose idea, and as my daughter grew into this semi-independent little human, I admit I started to have severe doubts about being both a friend and father.
It’s nice to have big dreams, until you have to get in the driver’s seat, right?
My priority had to be the role of a father, and that would always have to supersede me being my daughter’s friend.
Once my daughter started to exit her toddler years, and we really started to click and develop a beautiful relationship, things got complicated. She believed I was her best friend and would act mortally wounded whenever I had to punish her. The line between being a parent and a friend started to get blurred, and I had to hit the reset button.
This meant developing a set of rules for myself, so I wasn’t crossing the line over into strictly buddy territory and forgetting I was in fact, her father. How I acted around my daughter didn’t change very much, as we still joked around and had our serious talks, but I began to make sure she understood there was that line in the sand with our relationship.
I carefully explained to my daughter that I wouldn’t be a very good father if I wasn’t teaching her how to be a respectful person, one that was accountable for her actions. It was also made clear that I was still her friend, and she could talk to me about anything, but my role as a father would always come first.
The trick to all of this was understanding I had dual roles with my child, one as a friend and one as a disciplinarian. The biggest hurdle was letting go of my guilt when it was time to lay the hammer down and punish my daughter. I had a huge fear she would start to hate me or think I was a jerkface for being too hard on her, but overcoming that anxiety was absolutely crucial for me.
I realized that I couldn’t allow my daughter to manipulate me because of our friendship. She was a child and would naturally use that to her advantage. Once I was able to compartmentalize both roles, it became way easier for me cast aside any feelings of guilt I had as a disciplinarian.
My priority had to be the role of a father, and that would always have to supersede me being my daughter’s friend.
I began to focus on the fact that when I handed out punishments and taught her a lesson, it was all building blocks into making her the thoughtful and independent woman I hoped she could be. This made it way easier not to feel any guilt, and I also discovered that she wouldn’t stop loving me because I punished her.
I also never dropped the hammer on her without explaining why she was being punished. While she rarely agreed with the discipline I handed out, she was always aware of why I was doing it. This was essential to helping her learn a lesson and understand I wasn’t punishing her because it was fun for me or some power trip I was on.
Another rule I created was that while my daughter and I were good friends, she couldn’t be a confidant. That was a role for my wife, and not a line I felt I should cross over with my daughter until she became a full-fledged adult.
My daughter was pretty mature when she was younger, but confiding in her about certain things back then would have been confusing for her. Ie, trusting her with the information that I didn’t like one of her coaches would have eventually backfired on me in big way. Not that my daughter would have run off and told her coach, but she easily may have let it slip to a friend.
Do you really want Coach Krazy knowing you aren’t a fan of his? Nah.
So the whole confidant thing, put that on the backburner until your child hits adulthood.
I have found that by adhering to my simple, yet effective rules of friendship with my daughter, I get to enjoy both worlds of being a friend and father to her.
Therefore, I can tell you with full confidence that yes, it is possible to be your child’s friend!
