Nobody hands you a manual when your baby is born. You’re suddenly responsible for shaping a whole human being, and the weight of that can feel crushing some days.
I remember bringing Ellie home from the hospital and thinking, “What if I mess this up?” Five years and another kid later, I’ve made plenty of mistakes.
We all do. But I’ve also learned that some parenting patterns create ripples that follow our children into adulthood, affecting their happiness and sense of fulfillment in ways we might not realize in the moment.
The goal isn’t perfection. That’s an exhausting, impossible standard that helps no one. The goal is awareness. When we understand which patterns tend to undermine our children’s long-term wellbeing, we can course-correct before those patterns become entrenched.
These are the mistakes I’m actively working to avoid as I raise Ellie and Milo.
1. Prioritizing achievement over connection
I see this everywhere: parents celebrating test scores while barely noticing the drawing their child spent an hour creating. Asking about grades before asking about feelings. Praising accomplishments while taking for granted the moments of genuine presence and joy.
The message children receive is clear. What you do matters more than who you are.
When achievement becomes the primary currency of parental approval, children learn to measure their worth by external markers. They become adults who are driven but never satisfied, constantly chasing the next goal to feel valuable.
The internal sense of worth that comes from being unconditionally loved and seen gets replaced by a treadmill of accomplishment that never quite fills the void.
Matt and I try to notice the small things. When Ellie shares something she’s proud of, whether that’s mastering the monkey bars or building an elaborate fairy house in the backyard, we celebrate her joy and effort rather than immediately evaluating the outcome.
Connection time, the hours we spend just being together without agenda, matters more than any trophy or grade ever will.
2. Solving all their problems for them
The impulse to rescue our children from discomfort runs deep.
When Ellie struggles to zip her jacket, my first instinct is to do it for her.
When Milo gets frustrated trying to fit puzzle pieces together, I want to show him exactly where they go.
This urge comes from love, but constantly swooping in to fix things robs children of something essential.
Children who never experience struggle don’t develop resilience. They don’t learn that they’re capable of figuring things out, of tolerating frustration, of trying different approaches when the first one doesn’t work.
These are the kids who grow into adults who panic at the first sign of difficulty, who avoid challenges because they’ve never learned to trust their own problem-solving abilities.
I’m learning to pause before jumping in. “That looks tricky. What do you think you could try?” Sometimes Ellie surprises me with creative solutions I never would have suggested. Sometimes she gets frustrated and asks for help, which I’m happy to give.
The difference is that I’m giving her the chance to work through challenges herself first, building confidence with each small victory.
3. Using shame as a disciplinary tool
Shame attacks who a child is rather than addressing what they did.
There’s a world of difference between “You made a mistake by hitting your brother” and “What’s wrong with you? You’re such a mean kid.”
One addresses behavior that can be changed. The other attacks character and creates a wound that lingers.
Children who are regularly shamed internalize the message that something is fundamentally wrong with them. They carry that belief into adulthood, where it shows up as self-sabotage, difficulty accepting love, and a persistent feeling of being flawed at their core.
When Milo does something that needs correction, I focus on the specific action and the impact. “Throwing toys hurts people and breaks things. Let’s find a safe way to show your big feelings.”
I want him to learn that his behavior might need adjustment, but he himself is inherently worthy and loved. That distinction matters more than I can express.
4. Ignoring or dismissing their emotions
How many of us heard “stop crying” or “you’re fine” when we were genuinely upset as children?
Maybe your parents meant well, trying to help you move past difficult feelings quickly. What actually happens is that children learn their emotional reality is wrong, excessive, or unwelcome. They start to disconnect from their own inner experience.
The research on emotional attunement is clear: children need their feelings acknowledged to process them effectively.
When we say “I see you’re really disappointed” or “That made you angry,” we help them build emotional vocabulary and learn that feelings are manageable.
The alternative creates adults who either suppress everything until they explode or feel constantly overwhelmed because they never learned to identify and work through emotions.
5. Living vicariously through them
Have you watched a parent push their child into sports or activities that clearly serve the parent’s unfulfilled dreams more than the child’s interests?
Maybe they were a dancer who never went professional, so now their daughter must train hours daily. Maybe they wished they’d been more academic, so their son’s free time disappears into tutoring and enrichment classes he doesn’t enjoy.
Children need space to discover who they are separate from their parents’ expectations. When we project our unlived lives onto them, we communicate that their authentic preferences and natural inclinations matter less than fulfilling our vision.
These kids often spend decades trying to please their parents before eventually realizing they’ve been living someone else’s life.
Ellie shows zero interest in some things I loved as a child, and that’s okay. She’s her own person with her own passions. My job is to expose her to different experiences and then pay attention to what lights her up, supporting those interests even when they’re different from what I’d have chosen for myself.
6. Comparing them to siblings or other children
“Why can’t you be more like your sister?” “Look at how well Sophia listens to her mom.”
Comparisons like these create damage that lasts. Children who are constantly measured against others develop either crushing feelings of inadequacy or an inflated sense of superiority that masks deep insecurity. Neither outcome serves them well.
Every child develops at their own pace and has their own strengths. When we compare them, we communicate that their unique combination of qualities is somehow insufficient.
Siblings who are constantly pitted against each other often carry that competitive dynamic or resentment into adulthood, affecting their relationship for life.
7. Neglecting to apologize or admit mistakes
Last week I snapped at Ellie over something minor. I was stressed about a deadline, and she asked me the same question three times while I was trying to focus. My tone was harsh. I saw her face fall, and I had a choice: justify my reaction or own it.
I knelt down and said, “I’m sorry I spoke to you that way. I was feeling overwhelmed, but that’s not your fault. You deserved a kind answer.”
Her whole body relaxed. That repair mattered. When parents never apologize, never admit they were wrong, children learn that relationships don’t require accountability. They internalize that power means never having to say you’re sorry.
According to psychologist Dr. Becky Kennedy, perfect parenting is less important than repairing when we mess up.
Children who see their parents take responsibility for mistakes learn healthy conflict resolution. They grow into adults who can apologize when they’re wrong and who expect accountability in their relationships.
Those whose parents never modeled this often struggle deeply with either taking responsibility or demanding it from others.
The path forward
These mistakes are common because parenting is hard and most of us are doing our best with the tools we inherited from our own childhoods.
Recognizing these patterns isn’t about drowning in guilt. Awareness gives you the power to choose differently.
I mess up regularly. I get impatient when Milo won’t stay in bed for the tenth time. I dismiss Ellie’s concerns when I’m preoccupied.
The difference is that I’m conscious of it now. I repair, I adjust, I keep learning. That’s what our children need from us: not perfection, but presence and a genuine commitment to doing better.
Your child’s happiness and fulfillment grow from feeling truly seen, safely held through struggles, and unconditionally loved.
When we avoid these common mistakes and stay committed to showing up with awareness and intention, we give our children the foundation they need to build lives that genuinely feel good from the inside out.
