The other morning, my 5-year-old looked me straight in the eye and said, “You’re not being fair, Mama.” She was right. I’d promised we’d make homemade playdough after breakfast, but then I got distracted scrolling through emails while she waited patiently at the kitchen table with all the ingredients laid out.
That moment hit me hard. Here was my little one, respectfully calling me out on breaking a promise, and I realized how much our relationship had evolved from those early days of just keeping everyone fed and clean.
You know what scares me most about parenting? Not the sleepless nights or the endless laundry. It’s the thought that one day my kids might tolerate me out of obligation rather than genuinely want me in their lives. That they might roll their eyes when I call or find excuses to skip family gatherings.
Building genuine respect with our children isn’t about demanding it or pulling the “because I’m the parent” card. It’s about how we show up every single day, especially in those small moments we think don’t matter.
After years of practicing attachment parenting, co-sleeping until my kids were ready to transition, and learning through plenty of mistakes, I’ve discovered that certain habits we think establish authority actually erode the very respect we’re trying to build.
1. Breaking promises and commitments
Remember when your child’s face lit up because you said you’d read that extra story at bedtime, then you got a work call and forgot? I’ve been there more times than I care to admit.
Kids have incredible memories for broken promises. They might not say anything at first, but each broken commitment chips away at their trust. And trust? That’s the foundation of respect.
These days, I write down every promise I make to my kids on a sticky note. Sounds excessive? Maybe. But when my 2-year-old reminds me about the “blue park” I mentioned three days ago, I’m grateful for that little yellow reminder stuck to my steering wheel.
When I do mess up (because we all do), I apologize genuinely. Not a quick “sorry kiddo” while looking at my phone, but a real acknowledgment of how my actions affected them.`
2. Dismissing their emotions
“You’re fine, stop crying” used to slip out of my mouth so easily, especially when we were running late or in public. But watching my daughter stuff down her tears taught me something crucial: dismissing emotions doesn’t make them disappear. It just teaches kids that their feelings don’t matter to us.
Now when emotions run high, I’ve learned to pause and say, “Tell me more” or simply, “I’m listening.” Sometimes that’s all it takes. My son might be melting down over a broken cracker, but to him, that cracker represented something bigger. Maybe control, maybe disappointment, maybe just hunger.
The respect I see in their eyes when I validate their feelings? Priceless. They know I see them as whole people, not just little beings to be managed.
3. Using fear and shame as tools
Have you ever threatened something you knew you’d never follow through on? “If you don’t clean up, I’m throwing all your toys away!” Yeah, me too. And guess what? Kids figure out pretty quickly when we’re bluffing.
Worse than empty threats is using shame. “Look how good your friend is being” or “You’re acting like a baby” might get compliance in the moment, but it builds resentment that festers over time.
I believe in natural consequences over punishment now. Forgot your lunch? Let’s problem-solve together rather than me racing to school with it. Threw sand at the park? We leave immediately. No yelling, no shame, just clear cause and effect.
4. Never admitting when you’re wrong
This one’s tough for us recovering perfectionists. I used to think admitting mistakes would undermine my authority. Turns out, the opposite is true.
Last week, I snapped at my daughter for spilling juice right after I’d mopped. Then I saw her trying so hard to clean it up with paper towels, tears streaming down her face. I knelt down, helped her clean, and said, “I’m sorry for yelling. I was frustrated about the floor, but that wasn’t kind of me.”
The hug she gave me afterward? The way she said, “It’s okay, Mama, everyone makes mistakes”? That’s when I knew modeling accountability was teaching her more than any lecture about responsibility ever could.
5. Being inconsistent with boundaries
Monday: No screens during dinner. Tuesday: Sure, watch your show while you eat. Wednesday: Absolutely no screens! Thursday: Just this once because I’m exhausted.
Sound familiar? Inconsistency breeds confusion and, eventually, disrespect. Kids need to know where the lines are, even when they push against them (especially when they push against them).
I’ve learned to pick my battles and stick with them. We have fewer rules now, but they’re non-negotiable. And when I’m too tired to enforce something? I’m learning to embrace “good enough” and adjust expectations rather than create chaos with random rule changes.
6. Talking about them like they’re not there
Ever caught yourself telling another adult about your child’s struggles while they’re standing right there? “Oh, she’s going through a shy phase” or “He’s been so difficult lately.”
Kids absorb everything. When we talk about them rather than to them, we’re showing them their voice doesn’t matter in their own story.
Now when someone asks about my kids in their presence, I turn to them: “Would you like to tell Ms. Sarah about your new bike?” If they’re not ready to talk, that’s okay too. But they know I respect them enough to let them own their narrative.
7. Forgetting to really see them
Between making lunches, managing schedules, and keeping everyone alive, it’s easy to go through the motions without really connecting. But kids know when we’re physically present but mentally elsewhere.
Every night at bedtime, no matter how the day went, I tell my children, “Nothing you do will make me love you less.” And then I listen. Really listen. To their stories about the cool stick they found or their elaborate plans for a butterfly garden.
These moments of genuine connection, where they have my full attention, build more respect than any rule or routine ever could.
Final thoughts
Respect isn’t built through fear or demanded through authority. It grows slowly, nurtured by countless small moments of connection, accountability, and genuine regard for our children as individuals.
Some days I nail it. Other days, I’m apologizing before breakfast is over. But that’s okay. Our kids don’t need perfect parents. They need real ones who show up, own their mistakes, and love them fiercely through it all.
The beautiful thing? When we let go of these respect-eroding habits, we don’t just gain our children’s respect. We build relationships that will sustain us both through the teenage years and beyond. And isn’t that what we’re all really after? Not kids who obey because they have to, but children who grow into adults who genuinely want us in their lives.
That’s worth every sticky note reminder, every patient “tell me more,” and every humbling apology along the way.
