Let’s just say I had some strong opinions before kids.
You know that pre-parent confidence where you silently (or not so silently) think, “I’ll never do that when I have kids.”
Yeah, that version of me was blissfully unaware of toddler meltdowns in Target, nap schedules that rival flight paths, and the sheer logistical magic required to keep small humans fed, dressed, and emotionally stable.
Now, two kids later, I’ve eaten more humble pie than I can count.
Some of the things I swore I’d never do as a parent?
They’re part of my everyday survival toolkit—and honestly, I’m fine with that.
Let’s get into it.
1) Letting screen time become my co-parent
Before kids, I was that person.
The one who’d nod sympathetically at parents handing over a tablet in restaurants while thinking, Can’t they just talk to their kids?
Then came real life: deadlines, conference calls, and a three-year-old who believes pants are optional.
Screen time isn’t my co-parent, but it’s definitely my capable intern—on call for those fifteen-minute windows that save the day.
The key is intention.
We use screen time as a structured tool, not a default setting.
I preselect shows that calm rather than hype (shout-out to “Bluey”) and keep boundaries clear.
When the episode ends, the screen goes dark—no negotiations.
Research in child media use, “Quality screen media—well-designed, age-appropriate content with specific educational goals—can provide an additional route to early language and literacy.”
I couldn’t agree more.
2) Buying way too many baby gadgets
I used to laugh at baby registries that included wipes warmers and formula mixers.
“Minimalism is the way,” I’d say. “Babies don’t need all that stuff.”
Fast-forward to 2 a.m. with a colicky newborn and me googling ‘best white noise machine overnight shipping’.
Turns out, some gadgets do make life smoother.
Our sound machine, diaper pail, and bottle sterilizer have earned lifetime achievement awards.
Are they essential for survival? No.
But do they reduce the number of things I have to think about before my morning coffee? Absolutely.
And that’s the thing: parenthood is part chaos, part efficiency experiment.
If a well-placed gadget cuts a step or calms the household, I’m in.
I’ve learned that “simple” doesn’t always mean “no tools”—it means using the right ones well.
3) Turning into my mother about bedtime
When I was younger, I rolled my eyes every time my mom announced, “It’s bedtime—no arguments!”
I swore I’d be the chill mom who let kids stay up late for spontaneous fun.
Spoiler: I am not that mom.
If anything, I might be stricter.
Bedtime at our house is a sacred, non-negotiable event.
Pajamas, stories, hugs, lights out—like clockwork.
Because here’s what I learned: consistent bedtimes aren’t about control; they’re about sanity.
Predictability keeps everyone’s emotional bandwidth intact—mine included.
When bedtime slides, everything the next day unravels: tantrums, sugar crashes, late work starts.
And honestly? There’s a tiny thrill in sitting on the couch at 8:05 p.m., hot tea in hand, knowing the house is (momentarily) quiet.
I finally get why my mom guarded that peace so fiercely.
4) Using bribery as a parenting strategy
“I will never bribe my kids,” I said once, probably while sipping a latte and watching someone else’s toddler refuse to put on shoes.
Now? I carry an entire pouch of mini marshmallows for “emergency negotiations.”
Yes, we call it “positive reinforcement,” but let’s be real—it’s bribery with better branding. And it works.
There’s a fine line between manipulation and motivation.
A sticker chart or a small reward isn’t creating spoiled kids—it’s helping them connect effort with outcomes.
Note that rewards can be powerful when tied to clear goals and consistency.
So, if a gummy bear gets shoes on faster and prevents a public meltdown?
That’s not caving—it’s strategic energy management.
5) Serving the same three meals on rotation
Then I had actual kids.
Now we operate on a tight menu cycle: tacos, pasta, and chicken-anything.
Bonus points if it can be eaten in under 20 minutes or doesn’t stain clothing.
I used to feel guilty, but then I realized: predictability reduces dinner drama.
When kids know what’s coming, mealtime becomes calmer.
Plus, I can batch-prep and grocery shop in record time.
As I often remind myself, the goal isn’t a Michelin-star menu—it’s everyone fed and mostly content.
And if Emil eats pasta three nights in a row but adds a cucumber slice on the fourth? That’s progress.
6) Letting my house look like a daycare center
I swore I’d never let toys take over the living room.
I’d seen those homes where the decor screamed “toddler in residence,” and I vowed to maintain a stylish, adult space.
Fast-forward to reality: a rainbow of blocks under the couch, tiny cars parked on bookshelves, and a “shop” that Greta runs from the coffee table, complete with handwritten price tags.
But here’s the truth—I’ve made peace with it.
The mess isn’t chaos; it’s evidence of creativity in action.
I do have systems: labeled bins, weekly toy rotations, a “reset” every night after bedtime.
But I no longer see the living room as mine alone—it’s ours.
When the day’s done, I light a candle, clear a small space for my tea, and let the rest be.
7) Using the stroller as a lifestyle accessory
Pre-parent me thought strollers were just… functional.
A thing to push from A to B.
Now I joke that ours is my “third arm.” It’s part vehicle, part mobile command center.
It carries snacks, extra clothes, reusable bags, and occasionally doubles as a shopping cart.
What I didn’t expect was how much our stroller shapes our family rhythm.
It’s our reset button.
Walks between meetings, post-dinner loops, errands turned mini adventures.
Some of my clearest thoughts and calmest moments happen while pushing it.
That’s exactly what our stroller time does for me: it anchors the day in motion and calm.
8) Saying “because I said so”
I promised myself I’d always explain why—that I’d be the patient parent who calmly reasons through every conflict.
Ha.
Sometimes, there’s no time for a gentle TED Talk about why socks are non-negotiable in January.
Sometimes, “because I said so” is the only thing standing between me and a toddler in tears on the driveway.
I don’t overuse it, but I’ve realized that kids crave leadership as much as autonomy.
When boundaries are clear and consistent, they feel safer.
Explaining every decision can backfire—it invites debate when what’s really needed is closure.
Still, I balance it: big topics get explanations; small battles get efficiency. And that’s okay.
Parenthood isn’t a democracy—it’s a benevolent dictatorship fueled by snacks and coffee.
Closing thoughts
It’s funny how the things I once swore off are now woven into our everyday life.
I used to think good parenting meant never compromising.
Now I see it’s about adapting—finding systems that keep everyone functioning and (mostly) happy.
Parenthood isn’t a checklist; it’s an evolving experiment.
Some days it’s grace and patience; others it’s marshmallow bribes and bedtime curfews.
But every day, it’s love in motion—messy, hilarious, and humbling.
If you’re in that early stage of parenthood where you’re still holding on to the “I’ll never…” list, give yourself permission to drop it.
The goal isn’t perfection—it’s progress.
And if your version of progress includes a few quirky habits that save your sanity? You’re doing just fine.
