You know that moment when you hear yourself saying something to your kids and freeze because it’s exactly what your parents used to say?
Last week, I caught myself mid-sentence telling my daughter she couldn’t cry over a broken toy because “big girls don’t cry about little things.” The words hung in the air, and I immediately wanted to take them back.
We all carry parenting baggage from our own childhoods. Some of it’s wonderful, like my mom’s bedtime stories or the way my dad always made Sunday pancakes special.
But let’s be honest: some of what we inherited needs to go. Growing up in a small Midwest town with traditional parents who believed children should be seen and not heard left me with some habits I’ve had to actively unlearn.
The thing is, “that’s how I was raised” stops being valid when we know better. Our parents did their best with what they knew, but we have access to different information, different perspectives, and hopefully, different outcomes.
So today, I want to share eight parenting habits that many of us need to consciously break, even if (especially if) they feel familiar and automatic.
1. Dismissing their feelings because they seem “too big”
Remember being told you were overreacting? Or that you were being too sensitive? I do. My father, who worked long hours and came home exhausted, had little patience for what he called “drama.” If I cried about friend troubles or felt anxious about a test, the response was always some version of “toughen up.”
But here’s what I’ve learned: kids’ feelings are real and valid, even when they seem disproportionate to us. When my two-year-old melts down because his banana broke in half, that devastation is genuine. His emotional regulation skills are still developing, and dismissing his feelings teaches him they’re wrong or shameful.
Instead, I try to acknowledge what they’re feeling first. “You’re really upset about your banana. That must be frustrating.” It takes practice, especially when you were raised to stuff emotions down, but validating feelings doesn’t mean accepting all behaviors. You can acknowledge the emotion while still setting boundaries around how it’s expressed.
2. Using shame as a teaching tool
“What’s wrong with you?” “You should know better.” “I’m so disappointed in you.” These phrases rolled off my parents’ tongues easily, and honestly, they worked. I behaved. But I also developed a deep sense that I was fundamentally flawed whenever I made mistakes.
Shame doesn’t teach kids to do better; it teaches them they ARE bad. There’s a huge difference between “you made a poor choice” and “you’re being bad.” One addresses behavior that can change; the other attacks their core identity.
When my daughter recently lied about brushing her teeth, my first instinct was to launch into how disappointed I was. Instead, I took a breath and said, “Lying makes it hard for me to trust you. How can we fix this together?” We problem-solved, and she hasn’t lied about teeth brushing since. No shame required.
3. Forcing physical affection with relatives
Every family gathering in my childhood included the mandatory hug-and-kiss rounds with aunts, uncles, and grandparents. Refusing was considered rude, disrespectful, and would earn you a serious talking-to later.
But forcing kids to give physical affection when they’re uncomfortable teaches them their bodily autonomy doesn’t matter. It sends the message that being polite is more important than their comfort level, which is exactly the opposite of what we want them to internalize.
Now, we offer alternatives. “Would you like to give Grandma a hug, a high-five, or wave goodbye?” It respects their boundaries while still maintaining connection and politeness. Some relatives don’t love it, but protecting my children’s right to their own bodies matters more than avoiding awkward moments.
4. Comparing them to other kids
“Why can’t you be more like your cousin?” “Look how nicely that little girl is sitting.” My parents thought comparisons would motivate me, but all they did was make me feel inadequate and resentful.
Each child is unique, with their own timeline, strengths, and challenges. Comparing them to others sends the message that they’re not enough as they are. It breeds insecurity and competition rather than confidence and collaboration.
When I catch myself starting to compare (because old habits die hard), I stop and reframe. Instead of “Look how quietly those kids are playing,” I might say, “I need you to use your inside voice right now.” It addresses the behavior I want without making my child feel less than.
5. Making them finish everything on their plate
The “clean plate club” was non-negotiable in my house growing up. Waste was sinful, and you sat at that table until every bite was gone, even if you were full, even if you genuinely disliked something.
This habit overrides kids’ natural hunger and satiety cues. It teaches them to ignore their bodies’ signals and can contribute to unhealthy relationships with food later. How many of us still struggle with stopping when we’re full because we were programmed to clean our plates?
In our house, we encourage trying everything and eating until satisfied. If they’re legitimately not hungry, that’s okay. We save their plate for when they are. No battles, no tears, no sitting at the table for hours.
6. Punishing them for crying
“Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.” That threat echoed through my childhood home regularly. Tears were seen as weakness, manipulation, or defiance, never as a valid emotional release.
But crying is how kids (and adults) process big emotions. Punishing tears teaches children to suppress their feelings rather than work through them. It creates adults who don’t know how to handle their emotions healthily because they never learned it was okay to feel them fully.
When my kids cry, I try to stay present without immediately trying to fix it. “You’re really sad right now. I’m here.” Sometimes they need to feel the feeling before they can move through it.
7. Solving all their problems for them
Interestingly, while my parents were strict about emotions, they were quick to jump in and fix practical problems. Forgot your homework? Mom would drive it to school. Having trouble with a project? Dad would basically do it for you.
This might seem loving, but it robs kids of developing problem-solving skills and resilience. They need to experience natural consequences and figure out solutions to build confidence and capability.
When my five-year-old forgets her library book, we brainstorm together what she can do. Maybe she can explain to the librarian and ask for grace. Maybe she reads during free reading instead of checking out new books. Either way, she’s learning to handle her mistakes.
8. Never admitting when you’re wrong
My parents never apologized to us kids. Ever. Parents were always right, end of discussion. Admitting fault was seen as weakness that would undermine their authority.
But refusing to apologize teaches kids that some people are above accountability. It models prideful stubbornness rather than humility and growth. How can we expect our kids to take responsibility for their mistakes if we won’t model it ourselves?
When I lose my temper (because I’m human and it happens), I apologize. “I’m sorry I yelled. I was frustrated, but that wasn’t okay. Can we try again?” It shows them that everyone makes mistakes, and relationships can be repaired.
Breaking the cycle takes work
Unlearning these habits isn’t easy. They’re deeply ingrained, rising up automatically when we’re stressed, tired, or triggered. Some days I nail it, other days I find myself repeating patterns I swore I’d never continue.
The difference is awareness and intention. We can choose differently, even when it feels unnatural. We can create the emotional safety we wished we’d had. We can raise kids who trust their feelings, respect their bodies, and know how to navigate challenges with resilience rather than shame.
It’s not about being perfect parents or condemning how we were raised. It’s about recognizing that we can keep what served us and leave behind what didn’t.
Our kids deserve our conscious choices, not our unconscious patterns. And honestly? We deserve to parent from a place of intention rather than autopilot too.
