That Sounds Like an Excuse to Me

Where did my motivated, hustling, boy of action go?

“If I was nine to five instead of doing working late most nights…”

“If I had two days off together, instead of splitting them…”

“If…”

Last year, I set my kids a challenge. №1 son was slow to get off the mark. №2 son — well, we are still waiting.

№3 son was out of the blocks faster than Usain Bolt. He went on the ‘B’ of Bang!

I set them another challenge this year.

Five weeks in — nothing.

Oh, they have ideas. They did a spreadsheet. They put together a page of numbers — just numbers. And a timeline — week 1, week 2, 1st quarter etcetera. etcetera. Etcetera.

But they haven’t started.

And I’m wondering what happened.

№3 son came home for the weekend

You know, the motivated kid. The one that graduated university on Friday and started a new job on Monday. The one that turned £1k into £3k with his side-hustles in less than three months.

We talked about this year’s challenge and he hit me with excuses.

“Okay, kid. What have you done with the real №3 son?”

Last year, he was dazzling me with his ambition.

“I’m going to build a property empire.”

“I love doing the deal.”

“I have an idea for…”

Last night, he looked tired.

I slept on it.

We all have excuses

• The time isn’t right.
• I don’t feel like going to the gym tonight.
• If I didn’t have to look after the kids.

We get all sorts of motivational advice from successful people. The self-help section of the library is full of pithy sayings to get us up off our arses.

• If you want something enough, you go and do it.
• Procrastination is the precursor to poor performance.
• Work hard. Play hard. Get shit done.

I want my kids to be successful

I gave them opportunities. I did my best to provide a loving family home. I encouraged them with their education. When I introduced them to sports, I was the dad cheering them on from the sideline.

My challenge was supposed to give them a growth mindset and the freedom to learn. I hoped it would spur them into action and ensure their future success.

That’s my excuse.

I was wrong

I slept on it.

I asked myself, ‘what am I really trying to do?’

Am I trying to live vicariously through my children?

I look at all three of my boys and I am as proud of them as I could be. They smile, they run, they interact. They have interesting jobs, beautiful girlfriends, and great friendships.

They call their mum twice a week — or at least they answer when she calls. They joke. They laugh. They live awesome lives.

I should wind my neck in.

They are successfully weaving their way through life. The one metric I should pay attention to is their happiness. By pushing them, I will only increase their dissatisfaction.

If I want more, I should do it for myself. It isn’t about them. My motivated, hustling boy of action is still there.

It’s me. I should stop making excuses.