Why Today's Parents Don't Want to Parent Like Their Parents (And Why It's Harder Than It Looks)

Here's what's happening in living rooms across America: parents are having full-blown meltdowns because their toddler won't put on shoes. Not because the shoes matter that much, but because they're terrified of repeating what their own parents did—which was probably yelling "PUT ON YOUR SHOES BECAUSE I SAID SO" and calling it parenting.

So instead, parents negotiate. For 45 minutes. About shoes. Until everyone's exhausted, late, and wondering how footwear became a philosophical debate with an irrational toddler.

Welcome to the great parenting identity crisis of our generation.

The Rejection: What We're Running From

Let's be clear about what many of us grew up with: authoritarian parenting that prioritized compliance over connection. The "children should be seen and not heard" approach. Where pushback meant punishment, big feelings got dismissed with "stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about," and the phrase "because I said so" was considered a complete parenting philosophy.

And you know what? It worked—if by "worked" you mean we learned to behave. But here's what else it taught us: to suppress emotions instead of regulate them, to fear authority instead of respect it, and to disconnect from ourselves in order to stay safe.

We learned obedience. We didn't learn emotional intelligence.

So when we became parents, we made ourselves a promise: never again. We would do better. Be better. Feel better. Our kids would grow up with parents who actually validated their feelings, who didn't use shame as a teaching tool, who understood that a tantrum isn't manipulation—it's a nervous system in overdrive.

Noble goal, right? Absolutely. But here's where things get tricky.

The Ideal: What We're Reaching For

What we're actually trying to do is called authoritative parenting: high warmth plus high structure (AKA limits). It's the sweet spot where kids feel emotionally safe and have clear boundaries. Where we prioritize the relationship without letting a three-year-old dictate bedtime negotiations

The appeal is obvious: we want to raise emotionally healthy humans, not just obedient robots. We want kids who can feel their feelings, make good choices, and actually like us when they're adults. We're trading "good girls and boys" for emotionally intelligent humans who can navigate life with resilience and self-awareness.

Sounds perfect, doesn't it?

It is. In theory.

The Problem: Where Good Intentions Meet Reality

Here's what nobody tells you about rejecting authoritarian parenting: the pendulum swings hard. And for many of us, it swings straight into permissiveness.

Why? Because we weren't taught the middle ground. Our parents modeled one extreme, so when we reject it, we often land in the opposite extreme. We're so terrified of being too harsh, as a result of our upbringing, that we end up being too soft. So afraid of damaging the relationship that we avoid setting necessary limits altogether.

The math here is simple but brutal: we know what we don't want to do (yell, shame, control). But we were never shown what we should do instead. How do you hold a boundary with warmth when you've only ever seen boundaries held with force? How do you stay calm when your kid pushes back when your own parents met your pushback with punishment or rage?

You weren't given a roadmap. You were given survival mode.

And here's the kicker: your anxiety about your child's big feelings? That's because your own big feelings were never validated. When your three-year-old melts down about the wrong snack, and you feel your chest tighten with panic, that's not about the snack. That's about the fact that you weren't allowed to have big feelings either. And now, watching your child experience them triggers every unprocessed moment from your own childhood.

So you do what feels safe: you give in. You negotiate. You avoid the conflict. Because conflict feels dangerous, and your nervous system is screaming at you to make it stop.

The result? Exhausted parents doing constant negotiations with tiny humans who actually need leadership but are instead getting uncertainty.

The Hidden Requirements Nobody Mentions

Let's talk about what authoritative parenting actually demands—because it's a lot more than just "being nice while setting boundaries."

It requires you to become the kind of adult your child can safely depend on—someone who can hold space for their big feelings without needing to fix or stop them. This isn't a technique you learn; it's a way of being that has to develop in you. And here's the hard part: this way of being doesn't just appear. It develops through insight, healing, and practice—none of which you can do when you're running on empty.

It requires time and energy for co-regulation and connection. It's not the quick fix. You can't bark an order and move on—you have to show up relationally, again and again. Every. Single. Time.

It requires you to stay calm (easier said than done!) when they push back—which is something your parents never modeled for you. You're supposed to just... know how to do this? With no reference point? Good luck with that.

And it requires patience, creativity, and consistency in holding loving boundaries. Not boundaries that feel punitive. Not boundaries that come with shame. Boundaries that feel safe and predictable and kind. While you're also sleep-deprived, touched out, and running on fumes.

Oh, is that all?

The Modern Multiplication Effect

But wait—there's more! Because parenting today comes with bonus complications that would make our parents' heads spin.

Information overload: Every corner of the internet has conflicting parenting advice. One expert says time-outs are traumatic. Another says they're essential. Someone on Instagram insists you're ruining your kid if you don't baby-wear until age four. TikTok tells you gentle parenting is permissive parenting in disguise. Your pediatrician shrugs and says "do what feels right." Cool, cool, very helpful.

Phone distraction: Your attention is fragmented across texts, emails, Slack notifications, and doom-scrolling. You're physically present but mentally elsewhere. Your kid can feel it. You can feel it. Everyone feels it, and everyone feels guilty about it.

Work-life boundaries eroded: Remember when work stayed at work? Neither do we. You're always accessible to your employer, always "just checking one thing," always behind. The mental load never stops. Career pressure competes with family priorities, and something's gotta give—usually your nervous system.

The myth of "having it all": You're supposed to have a thriving career, be fully present for your kids, maintain a relationship with your partner, exercise, eat well, have hobbies, stay connected to friends, and also... parent authoritatively? While meal planning and remembering to schedule the dentist? Sure, no problem. Totally reasonable.

The exhaustion leaves zero energy for the emotional heavy lifting that authoritative parenting requires. You know what you should do. You just can't actually do it because you're running on empty.

The Gap Between Values and Capacity

This is where the guilt cycle begins.

You know what you want to do differently. You've read the books. Followed the Instagram accounts. Downloaded the PDFs. You understand attachment theory and co-regulation and the importance of connection. You have the values.

But you don't have the capacity.

You want to be present and authoritative, but you fall into permissiveness when you're too tired to hold the boundary. Or you snap into reactivity when your kid does the exact thing that pushed your buttons as a child. And then you hate yourself for it. Because you swore you'd never yell like your parents did, and here you are, doing exactly that.

Welcome to the isolation of modern parenting. The village is gone, and most of us are trying to do this alone—or with a patchwork of support that feels perpetually inadequate.

"We've made parenting about what we DO instead of who we ARE to our children," says Raelee Peirce, a parent coach at Poppins. "Children don't need parents who have mastered techniques—they need parents they can safely depend on."

Here's the Good News

The gap between your values and capacity? It's not permanent. And it's not a character flaw.

It starts with insight, not instruction. Before you can change how you parent, you need to understand what's actually happening. Your child's behavior isn't a problem to manage—it's communication about what they need and how safe they feel with you. When you shift from "how do I fix this behavior" to "what is my child trying to tell me," everything changes.

Your own healing matters. Your anxiety about your child's big feelings? That often softens when you do your own emotional work. Not to master techniques, but to become comfortable with the emotions you weren't allowed to feel as a child. You can't make room for your children's hearts if you haven't made room for your own. This is the foundation that makes everything else possible.

And yes, skill development is learnable too. Once you understand the "why" behind the behavior and you've done your own healing work, the practical skills become so much easier to access. You can learn how to hold boundaries with warmth. How to stay regulated when your kid isn't. How to respond instead of react. These aren't rigid scripts to memorize—they're tools that flow naturally once you've shifted your perspective.

You don't have to figure this out alone. Find the education that helps you see your child—and yourself—differently. Get the coaching that supports both your insight and your skill-building. Join the community. Hire the therapist. Do whatever you need to do to become the parent your children need—not by perfecting techniques, but by growing into yourself while learning practical tools that actually work.

Because here's the truth: authoritative parenting isn't about perfection—it's about repair. It's about showing your kids that you're human, that you make mistakes, and that relationships can survive rupture and reconnection. And that happens through both understanding and practice.

The Bottom Line

Trying to parent differently than you were parented? That takes immense courage. You're not just changing behavior—you're swimming upstream against your own nervous system, your own conditioning, your own unmet needs.

And you're doing it in a culture that offers very little support, very little rest, and very little grace for the fact that this is hard.

But here's the thing: you don't have to do this alone.

This is exactly why Poppins exists. We're here for all your medical and behavioral questions—the 2 AM "is this normal?" spirals, the "how do I handle this?" moments, the "am I screwing this up?" uncertainty. We're your team. Your backup. Your village in digital form.

Because the gap between knowing what you want to do and having the capacity to do it? That gap closes when you have expert support that's actually accessible. When you have someone in your corner who can help you see your child differently, understand what's really going on beneath the behavior, and trust that you already have what it takes—you just need help accessing it.

So here's your permission slip: You don't have to do this perfectly. You just have to do it honestly. With self-compassion. With support. With the understanding that becoming the parent your child needs is a process of growth, not a checklist of techniques.

The goal isn't to be the perfect authoritative parent. The goal is to be good enough. To show up. To repair when you mess up. To keep trying, even when it's hard. And to have a team that's got your back when it all feels like too much.

Because your kids don't need you to be perfect. They just need you to be present, to be trying, and to be growing alongside them.

And on the days when it all falls apart? When you yell, when you give in, when you can't find the capacity you wish you had? Those days don't define you. What defines you is that you keep showing up, keep learning, keep reaching for better—and that you're wise enough to ask for help when you need it.

That's not failing. That's called being human.

And honestly? That might be the most important thing you teach your kids.

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