Remember that time you swore you’d never be like your parents? I was about fourteen, standing in my room after being told—yet again—that no, I couldn’t go to Sarah’s sleepover because it was a school night. I dramatically flopped on my bed, convinced my parents were the strictest people on the planet.
Fast forward to last week: Ellie asked if she could stay up past bedtime to finish a TV show, and the word “no” came out of my mouth so naturally it surprised even me. She gave me that same look I probably gave my mom decades ago. And you know what? I finally get it.
Growing up as the middle child in a small Midwest town, I spent plenty of time cataloging all the ways my parents were “ruining my life” with their rules. Now, as I navigate raising my own two little ones, I find myself grateful for those very things I once resented.
Not in a militant way, but in that gentle recognition that sometimes the hard stuff shapes us into who we need to become.
1. Making us sit down for family dinner every single night
Back then, it felt like torture. While my friends were eating in front of the TV or grabbing fast food, we were sitting at our kitchen table with no escape. Every. Single. Night. No phones (though they barely existed then), no distractions, just us and whatever casserole my mom had stretched to feed five people.
I remember rushing through my food, desperate to get back to whatever I’d been doing. The conversations stayed pretty surface level, but we were there. Together.
Now? We eat together as a family almost every night. Matt handles Saturday pancake duty, and we gather around our own worn wooden table.
Sure, sometimes dinner is just fifteen minutes between activities, and yes, my two-year-old spends half the time trying to feed his green beans to the dog. But we show up. We connect. Even when the conversation is just Ellie telling us every single detail about a butterfly she saw.
2. Limiting screen time before it was trendy
We had one TV in the living room, and watching it required family consensus. Saturday morning cartoons were sacred, but beyond that? We were told to “go play outside” more times than I could count. I thought every other kid was watching unlimited TV while I was stuck building fort cities in the backyard.
These days, I see how that forced creativity shaped me. When Ellie gets bored, she doesn’t immediately ask for a screen. She grabs her basket and collects leaves to sort, or she helps me in the garden.
Those hours spent making up games with sticks and rocks? They taught me that entertainment doesn’t require a plug.
3. Enforcing bedtimes with military precision
Eight-thirty meant bed. Period. No negotiations, no “just five more minutes,” no special exceptions for that show everyone would be talking about at school tomorrow. I’d lie there, wide awake, convinced sleep was impossible at such an unreasonably early hour.
Guess what I’m strict about now? Bedtime. Because I’ve learned what happens when kids don’t get enough sleep. They melt down over sock seams. They can’t handle disappointment. They basically become tiny dictators.
Those early bedtimes gave me the rest I needed to actually focus in school and handle whatever came my way.
4. Making us do chores without payment
Want to know what wasn’t a thing in our house? Getting paid to contribute. We had our jobs, we did them, and that was that. Taking out trash, helping in the garden, folding laundry. I watched friends get allowances for making their beds while I got… the expectation that I’d make my bed.
But here’s what that taught me: family means everyone pitches in. Not for reward, but because that’s what you do. When Ellie helps me sort vegetables from our garden or Milo attempts to “help” fold washcloths (mostly he unfolds them), they’re learning they’re part of something bigger than themselves.
5. Saying no to most of what we asked for
Can I have those expensive sneakers? No. Can we get the cereal with the toy inside? No. Can we order pizza instead of eating leftovers? Definitely no.
Money was tight, but even when it wasn’t about finances, my parents had this incredible ability to deny requests without guilt. I thought they were mean. What I didn’t understand was they were teaching me the difference between wanting and needing.
Now when my kids ask for something at every store visit, I channel that same energy. That firm but kind “no” that doesn’t require justification. They’re learning that not getting everything you want isn’t deprivation; it’s life.
6. Insisting on manners even at home
“Please” and “thank you” weren’t optional in our house. Neither was asking to be excused from the table or holding doors for people. My parents corrected us constantly, even when we were just talking to each other. It felt excessive and exhausting.
You know where those ingrained habits take you? Places. People comment on how polite my children are, and while they’re far from perfect, those automatic “please” and “thank you” responses are already taking root. Manners aren’t about being formal; they’re about recognizing other people matter.
7. Requiring us to finish what we started
Wanted to quit piano after two months? Too bad. Signed up for softball then decided you hated it? You’re finishing the season. My parents had this seemingly cruel policy that commitments were commitments, even when you were eight and had no idea what you were signing up for.
That lesson hits different now. When Ellie wanted to quit her nature class because it was “boring” one week, we had a conversation about seeing things through. Not everything will be fun all the time, but we honor our commitments. It’s a life skill that extends way beyond childhood activities.
8. Not rushing to our rescue
Forgot your homework? That’s between you and your teacher. Lost your library book? Better figure out how to pay that fine. My parents had this maddening habit of letting us experience consequences instead of swooping in to save us.
I remember the panic of realizing I’d forgotten my science project at home and my mom calmly saying, “That’s unfortunate. What are you going to do about it?” No emergency delivery to school. No angry call to the teacher asking for an extension.
Those uncomfortable moments taught me accountability in ways a thousand lectures never could have. Now when Ellie forgets her special sharing item for school, we talk about remembering next time instead of racing back home to get it.
9. Keeping their problems away from us
My parents never discussed money troubles in front of us. They never complained about each other to us. Adult problems stayed firmly in adult territory. Sometimes this felt like being kept in the dark, but what it really was? Protection.
They let us be kids. We didn’t carry the weight of grown-up worries on our small shoulders. Now I find myself stepping outside with Matt to discuss budgets or scheduling conflicts, keeping those conversations away from little ears that don’t need that burden.
A different kind of gratitude
Here’s the thing about strict parenting: it’s not about control or making life miserable for kids. At least, it wasn’t for my parents. Those rules and boundaries? They were love in action. They were my parents doing the hard thing because the hard thing was the right thing.
I’m not replicating my childhood exactly. We’re more openly affectionate than my family was, we talk about feelings, and yes, we occasionally have pizza on leftover night. But those core lessons about structure, responsibility, and resilience? Those are gifts I’m still unwrapping.
Some nights, after I’ve said “no” to just one more story or insisted that vegetables get eaten before dessert, I think about calling my parents to say thank you. Thank you for being the bad guys when it would have been easier to be friends. Thank you for holding those boundaries even when I pushed against them with everything I had.
Because now I know: the strictness I resented was actually the foundation I stand on. And as I watch my own children push against the boundaries I set, I smile a little, knowing that someday they might understand too.
