Last night at bedtime, I tucked Ellie in and whispered the same thing I tell her every night: “Nothing you do will make me love you less.” She smiled sleepily and asked why I always say that. The truth hit me like a ton of bricks—because I never heard it growing up.
My father worked long hours and provided everything we needed materially. We had a nice house, good schools, family vacations.
But I can count on one hand the times I felt like my presence genuinely delighted him. He was emotionally distant, and though he never said it outright, I always felt like I was interrupting something more important.
Now as a mother myself, after seven years teaching kindergarten before having my daughter, I’ve been processing how my strict upbringing affects my current parenting.
What I’ve discovered aligns with something profound that psychology keeps confirming: what children carry into adulthood isn’t whether their parents were strict or permissive, successful or struggling. It’s whether they felt like their existence brought their parents joy or burden.
The invisible weight children carry
Have you ever noticed how some adults constantly apologize for existing? Or how others walk into a room with unshakeable confidence? Often, the difference traces back to one fundamental childhood experience: did they feel celebrated or tolerated?
I see it in my own reactions sometimes. When my two-year-old dumps his breakfast on the floor for the third time this week, my first instinct might be frustration. But then I catch myself. What message am I sending if every mess, every inconvenience, every normal toddler behavior is met with sighs and eye rolls?
Children are remarkably perceptive. They pick up on the subtle shift in our energy when they walk into a room. They notice if we light up or if our shoulders tense. They internalize whether their questions spark enthusiasm or annoyance.
Why parenting styles matter less than we think
Here’s what surprised me when I started digging into this: strict parents who delight in their children often raise more secure adults than permissive parents who view their kids as burdens. The rules and boundaries aren’t what stick—it’s the underlying message about their worth.
Research examining the perception of children found that whether parents view children as a joy or burden is influenced by individual characteristics and macro-level factors like family support policies and economic conditions. But regardless of these external factors, children absorb these perceptions like sponges.
Think about it. A strict parent who sets firm boundaries while genuinely enjoying their child’s company sends the message: “You’re worth protecting and guiding.”
Meanwhile, a permissive parent who gives unlimited freedom but treats their child like an inconvenience communicates: “Do whatever you want, just don’t bother me.”
Creating a different family culture
When I became a mother, I promised myself I’d create a different family culture with more emotional openness. But old patterns die hard.
Sometimes I catch myself getting irritated when my daughter wants to show me her twentieth drawing of the day, or when my son needs comfort for the same scraped knee he’s been nursing all afternoon.
The shift I’m working on? Pausing before I react. Taking a breath and remembering that these moments—the endless questions, the constant need for attention, the messes—they’re not interruptions to my life.
They ARE my life right now. And more importantly, they’re shaping how my children will view themselves for decades to come.
I’ve started celebrating the small stuff. When my daughter helps set the table (even though it takes three times longer), I make sure she sees my genuine appreciation. When my son brings me a handful of dandelions from the yard, I treat them like roses.
The long shadow of feeling like a burden
The adults who struggle most aren’t necessarily those who had the strictest or most lenient parents. They’re the ones who felt like their very existence was an inconvenience. They’re the ones who learned to shrink themselves, to need less, to apologize for taking up space.
These patterns follow us into relationships, careers, friendships. We might become overachievers trying to justify our existence. Or we might become people-pleasers, constantly trying to earn the delight we never felt as children.
Some of us become parents ourselves and swing to the opposite extreme, becoming so child-focused that we lose ourselves entirely.
Studies on maternal life satisfaction show a positive correlation with children’s non-cognitive outcomes, indicating that a mother’s happiness can influence her child’s development.
But here’s the crucial part: it’s not just about being happy. It’s about genuinely finding joy in your child’s existence, separate from their achievements or behavior.
Practical ways to show delight in your children
So how do we make sure our kids know they’re a joy, not a burden? It’s simpler than we might think, but it requires intentionality.
First, watch your face when your child enters a room. Do your eyes light up? Children are watching for this more than we realize. Make eye contact, smile genuinely, let them see that their presence brings you joy.
Second, respond to their bids for attention with enthusiasm, at least some of the time. Yes, the fifteenth “Watch this!” of the day can be exhausting. But showing genuine interest, even briefly, sends a powerful message.
Third, share stories about them that highlight joy, not just frustration. Instead of only venting about the hard parts of parenting (which we all need to do sometimes), make sure you’re also sharing the delightful moments.
Finally, tell them explicitly. Just like I tell my daughter every night that nothing could make me love her less, find your own words to communicate that their existence is a gift, not a burden.
Breaking the cycle starts with awareness
The beautiful thing about recognizing these patterns is that we can change them. We don’t have to repeat what we experienced. Every interaction is a chance to send a different message.
Yesterday, my son interrupted my writing three times in ten minutes. The old me would have been frustrated, thinking about all the work I needed to finish.
Instead, I closed my laptop, pulled him onto my lap, and asked what he needed. Turns out he just wanted to know if clouds were made of cotton. We spent five minutes talking about water vapor, and then he ran off satisfied.
Those five minutes might seem insignificant, but they weren’t. They were five minutes where he learned that his curiosity matters, that his questions are welcome, that his existence enriches rather than complicates my life.
The truth is, our children will remember the feeling we gave them long after they’ve forgotten the rules we enforced or the freedoms we allowed. They’ll carry into adulthood the deep knowing of whether they were celebrated or merely tolerated.
And that knowing will shape how they move through the world, how they value themselves, and eventually, how they parent their own children.
So tonight, when you tuck your little ones in, remember: it’s not about being the perfect parent with the perfect balance of rules and freedom. It’s about making sure they know, deep in their bones, that they are and always will be a source of joy in your life.
