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This week, Hal and I rented Stranger Than Fiction. I have to say that it was one of the best films I have seen in a very long time. It was a sweet and infinitely fascinating story about perspective and self-fulfilling prophecies. In the movie, Will Ferrell plays Harold Crick, an unassuming and unexciting accountant for the IRS who counts his steps and his toothbrush strokes. He eats alone and has few friends. He is utterly miserable and worse, he doesn’t even realize his lot in life until one day when he hears a voice inside his head narrating every aspect of it. I won’t spoil the movie for you, but suffice it to say, his life takes a dramatic turn as he gets to hear what he thinks and see how he acts from someone else’s point of view.

So, what in the world does this have to do with parenting. Nothing. And Everything. Stay with me a bit and allow me to explain.

In one particular scene, Ferrell is filing tax returns, a daily routine for him that he never thinks twice about. Suddenly, he hears the voice. In the cool tone of detachment and with the lovely British accent of Emma Thompson, it says something like,

Harold listened as the sound of the folders scraping against each other filled the room. It sounded like the never relenting monotony of ocean waves against the rough sandy beach. He suddenly realized that he hated his job.

Ferrell stops abruptly and realizes that this strange voice was really seeing him in a way that he had never even seen himself before. The narrator was speaking the truth and the more he listened to it, the more he was able to objectively examine the type of person he really was. Then, and only then, was he was able to make steps in the direction of the person he wanted to become.

So here’s my question. Have you ever thought about how you would look on the page or on the big screen? I’m not talking about your physicality. No, something much more frightening than that, even though the thought of a 30 foot tall Jenny does fill me with dread. I’m talking about your character. Let me put it this way, would you like the way you interact with your kids if you could see yourself objectively?

Really seeing yourself is incredibly helpful in creating lasting, loving relationships with your kids. But it is also incredibly difficult to do. It takes a good deal of both self-confidence and humility to step back and see yourself from the outside. One of my good friends is particularly adept at doing this and wrote to me recently about one such encounter with her “character”. She says,

so, the other morning I was packing my son’s afternoon snack for preschool - he had asked for yogurt and I decided to add some grapes as well. He said he didn't want grapes.

I said, "Just take them, maybe you'll change your mind." He said he didn't want grapes.

I said, "Well, take them, you might want them later." He said he didn't want grapes.

I said "Take them. You don't have to eat them if you don't want to." He said he didn't want grapes and proceeded to take the little plastic container out of his lunchbox.

I tried putting it back.

He took it out. I then said with PROFOUND exasperation, "Fine, don't take them. I'm sick of arguing with you!"

My husband, who had been watching the whole charming interaction looked at me and said with a gentle smile, "I hate to say it, but you're the only one arguing."

Oh, how embarrassingly true it was. I WAS the only one arguing. And about something totally insignificant. That day will always stick with me.

Once you can see yourself the way a good narrator would see you, you can become the type of character you’d cheer for on the screen. Characters who make their share of mistakes, but who stretch themselves and reach for things better, for lives bigger than they already have.

When I am faced with situations that challenge me to grow and I find myself retreating into old patterns or feelings of frustration, I am sometimes creative enough to ask myself, “How would I want my character to react if she were faced with this very dilemma?” If I have time, I’ll even add a little soundtrack and slow motion montage, ala Ally McBeal, to accompany my new, better self taking bold and uncomfortable steps, growing all the way.

Too often, in heated situations with our kids, we tend to take their reluctance, disobedience, attitude, etc…, personally. All that does is create reactivity. How different would our lives look if we listened to a narrator who isn’t clouded by feelings of hurt or frustration? A narrator who simply records what we do and acknowledges what we feel without losing the larger scope of the novel.

I really do believe that the key to a good story is the narration. And I think that just may be the key to good parenting as well. If we were able to infuse a little bit of creativity, humor, and compassion into our relationships, our stories would be ultimately much more pleasant and productive. Don’t believe me? It’s true. Give it a shot. I think you’ll find out that sometimes truth really is stranger than fiction.