On more than one occasion I’ve thought, and even said aloud, that if I were to write a book on management, I would call it “I Am Not Your Mother” and subhead it with “And other truths that managers should know.” It’s a bit of a flippant phrase, I know, but it encapsulates a reality I’ve found far too often in my career.

So many times I’ve had folks come to me with a problem, a work situation, an interpersonal conflict, a report of someone saying or doing something that upset them. There are many variations on this theme and I know that you know them as well as I do.

What ties them all together, though, is the expectation that I, as their supervisor or manager or leader, am just going to solve it, make it all go away. The hope is that they walk into my office with an issue or challenge and walk out with the issue or challenge off their shoulders and squarely sitting on mine.

As a parent, I have often tried to make things better for my kids. I’ve tried to make problems go away, I’ve tried (too many times) to fight their battles and I have often wished that I could just “do that for them,” anything to make their lives easier and less stressful. When things are difficult for my kids, I always wish that I could take their place, thinking, perhaps as you do as well, “better me than my child.”

The fact of the matter is that, while sometimes I have been able to help, most of the time I have to recognize that they have not just the ability but also the right to make their own choices and to fight their own battles. I can support them and cheer them on, I can console when things don’t go their way, but their lives are not mine to live. They have to claim their own power and they have to use it. I can’t do it for them.

The same applies t the people with whom we work. We all have to learn to solve problems. We all have to figure it out. We all have to take a deep breath, straighten our shoulders and do what needs to be done. When we rely on someone else to “fix it for me” or “tell me what to do” we are giving away our power. We are asking for “mom” to “make it all better.” And while that may work with a scraped knee, it does not work in a world of adults and it certainly does not work in a professional setting.

Leading with a full heart means helping people to grow, to push their own boundaries, to put aside their own fears. No, I am not your mother but, as your mother might, I will listen and support, suggest and counsel. I will hope that you can spread your own wings and claim your own power and I will rejoice when you do.