Sorry, Sorry, Sorry!
Reflections on apologies, parenting and personal growth
My kids collide and two full glasses of milk go sploosh onto the floor. Panicked, my younger son looks at me terrified and frantically bursts out with, “sorry-sorry-sorry!”
It’s cliché that this is about spilled milk, but this is truly how it happened, so I’ll go on.
He looks like he’s expecting me to get really angry. I don’t get mad that often. Annoyed and frustrated, yes. But not “yell-y” mad, and surely not angry over the fact that milk is on the floor. But at some point in this parenting journey, I must have given the impression that this was a calamity. Did my husband and I get angry over spilled milk? Possibly. Have we blamed our boys for being unaware and/or careless? Definitely. Was our former reaction manifesting itself in this response?
This is not how I want this situation to play out. My son doesn’t need to be sorry about the milk spilling. He doesn’t need to be panicked. Why does he feel threatened? How can I navigate through my own response, validate how he is feeling and also coach him through an appropriate reaction?
Here’s what I do want to happen: when something unfortunate, frustrating or messy occurs, I want my kids to apologize when it is appropriate, own mistakes that are theirs to own and then problem solve. They don’t need to feel badly, beat themselves up nor try to place blame elsewhere.
As I write, I realize that my desire for this type of reaction extends beyond my two boys. This is how I want to behave, it’s how I want our leaders to behave and it’s how I want people I work with to behave. As a parent, my thought is that if I can teach them early, maybe my kids will grow up with a strong foundation and valuable skillset to carry into their future encounters.
Lately, I have felt defeated by their apologetic mindset. They seem to be saying “sorry” more than ever, and at times, it feels like they are apologizing for existing. I am constantly saying, “You don’t need to apologize for that. Instead, can you tell me what you are going to do about the situation?”
I find myself wondering, where is this coming from and why now?
As I reflect on this milk incident and other recent moments of apology, I have a theory that their behavior is not about any single situation but a symptom of something deeper. In these litany of sorrys, I am witnessing their desire for approval, shaky confidence and developing self-awareness. They are apologizing to get reassurance from me that they are not bad and that I am not mad at them. I get to remind them that a single action does not make them a bad person and that I can be annoyed with a situation without being mad at them.
There is nuance in this, and I can tell it’s tough for them to fully disconnect the situation from their personal worth. What I ultimately care about is their response to these types of events and what comes after.
If they have made a poor choice that does warrant apology, I want them to think about what it is they are apologizing for and why before uttering, “I’m sorry.” And then I want them to remember how we apologize to one another, because a couple of years ago, we all committed to a new philosophy on how to express remorse.
How to Apologize:
It was the spring of 2020, and I was taking one of my long neighborhood Covid walks while listening to a Brené Brown podcast. Her guest for the two-part series (linked below) was the clinical psychologist, Harriet Lerner, and the concept they were discussing was about the art of apologizing. The lesson profoundly impacted me and changed my behavior. It is embedded in my memory as a two-fold approach:
Part 1 - Apology givers refrain from making any qualifying or justifying statements after the apology. Here’s an example. “I am sorry I said that to you but you were being really mean to me.” The “but” immediately nullifies the apology. The apologizer is no longer owning their part but putting the burden back on the other person. Instead, when you are truly ready to apologize and you have recognized and owned your fault, you get to apologize for that. Should the other person also have fault, they may or may not choose to work through that on their own. With this in mind, the apology is more straightforward and direct: “I am sorry I hurt your feelings with what I said.” STOP
Part 2 - Apology recipients accept the apology without giving a pass. Before hearing these episodes, my automatic response to any apology was, “It’s OK.” But I appreciate the notion that this type of response can diminish the ownership, responsibility and gravity of the apology. While offering such a consolation may make it easier on the apologizer, the apology ultimately carries less meaning. It is much more powerful to simply say, “Thank you.”
I remember finishing these two episodes and picking up my pace for home. I was excited to share what I had learned with my family, and it’s something we have wholeheartedly adopted. With this knowledge and common language we can remind each other to avoid apology qualifiers and refrain from giving someone a pass. I now feel validated and heard when I apologize to my sons or my husband and get a sincere, “thank you.”
So in the case of the spilled milk and with the context above, I wonder if Elliot needed to apologize at all, and if he did, what he needed to apologize for. Sure, he could have been a bit more aware or a bit more careful when he turned around, but in the end, it was a series of unfortunate events. His brother opened the door just as he was turning toward it holding two glasses of milk. It was simply an issue of poor timing.
In these moments, I can remember to pause and think about the big picture instead of reacting suddenly. Perhaps that would have made him less nervous and given him the confidence to respond differently.
In a retrospective-do-over world, or better yet, in a future similar scenario, here are two ways I envision it playing out:
The no-apology option:
The boys collide and the milk spills.
I don’t react.
Elliot says, “Mom, I didn’t see Aidan coming. We bumped, and I spilled the milk. Can you help me clean it up before dinner?
I reply, “Sure Elliot, thanks for taking responsibility.”
The apology option:
The boys collide and the milk spills
I don’t react.
Elliot says, “Mom, I am sorry I wasn’t paying more attention.”
I say, “Thanks Elliot, let me help you clean it up.”
Of course my life isn’t a movie I can go back and edit nor can I script the future. We are humans with all sorts of unpredictable emotions and interactions. This journey from a panicked 'sorry,sorry,sorry!' to a more thoughtful reaction is ongoing. For my part, it requires patience, consistency and plenty of parental trials and missteps. My hope is that as we continue practicing, my kids will gain confidence, feel less worried and consider how and when to apologize when encountering life’s collisions.
In case you are curious…here are the two Brené Brown Unlocking Us podcast episodes that have profoundly impacted how I think about apologies.
Kristi, this post really resonates. It took me until my 30s to realize getting angry about the little stuff (which my mom would) was an option I didn't need to exercise. It's been liberating! Great food for thought.