You know that sinking feeling when you see your parents’ number pop up in early November? The one where they’re calling to “finalize holiday plans” but you already know it means weeks of anxiety leading up to a visit that should feel like coming home but instead feels like walking on eggshells?
Here’s the thing that breaks my heart: our parents genuinely believe they’re showing love.
Every guilt trip about not visiting enough, every comment about our life choices, every attempt to parent our kids their way: in their minds, it’s all coming from a place of deep caring. They think they’re helping. They think they’re staying connected. They think this is what good parents do.
But for so many of us adult children, these behaviors have turned holiday visits from joyful reunions into something we quietly dread all year. And the worst part? Both sides are hurting, and neither really understands why.
I’ve been wrestling with this myself lately. My own parents, wonderful as they are, have certain habits that make me count down the days until I can pack up my kids and head back to our own space.
They raised me with love in our small Midwest town, and I know they’re baffled by some of my choices (cloth diapers, anyone?). But understanding where these behaviors come from has helped me see the pattern more clearly.
1) Offering unsolicited advice about everything
“You really should put socks on that baby.” “Have you thought about getting a better paying job?” “That house needs so much work, why didn’t you buy the one on Maple Street?”
Sound familiar? Parents often see advice-giving as sharing their wisdom and protecting us from mistakes. After all, they’ve lived longer, seen more, right? But when every conversation becomes a coaching session about what we should be doing differently, visits start feeling like performance reviews rather than family time.
What really gets me is when my mother watches me parent and can’t help but jump in with “Well, when you were little, we always…” Yes, Mom, I survived. But I’m trying something different here, and that’s okay.
The constant stream of suggestions sends a message that nothing we do is quite good enough, that we’re still children who need guidance rather than adults who might actually know what we’re doing.
2) Guilt-tripping about time and distance
“I guess we’ll just spend Thanksgiving alone again.” “Your brother visits twice as often as you do.” “We won’t be around forever, you know.”
These comments cut deep because they’re designed to. Parents think reminding us of our “obligations” will bring us closer, but guilt is a terrible glue for relationships. It might get us to show up, but we’ll be resentful when we do.
Recently, my dad mentioned how his friend’s daughter calls every single day. The comparison hung in the air like a storm cloud. Did he think that would make me want to call more? Because all it did was make me feel like our weekly calls weren’t enough, like I’m constantly failing some invisible test.
3) Treating grandchildren like do-over babies
This one particularly stings for those of us trying to parent differently than we were raised. Grandparents swoop in with their own rules, their own treats, their own bedtimes, often directly contradicting what we’ve established at home.
“Oh, one cookie won’t hurt!” “Let Grandma spoil them!” “You’re too strict about screen time.”
They think they’re being loving grandparents, creating special memories. But when they undermine our parenting decisions, it feels like they’re saying we don’t know what’s best for our own children.
Last visit, I spent twenty minutes explaining why we limit sugar, only to find my mother sneaking my son candy an hour later. “I’m the grandma,” she winked, like that made it okay.
4) Dismissing or minimizing our feelings
Remember trying to share something important as a teenager only to hear “You’re being too sensitive” or “It’s not that big a deal”? Many parents never stop doing this.
When we try to set boundaries or express hurt, they respond with “You’re overreacting” or “That’s not what I meant” or my personal favorite, “You take everything so personally.” They think they’re keeping things light, preventing drama. But they’re actually telling us our feelings don’t matter.
I once tried explaining why certain comments about my parenting choices hurt, and my mom literally said, “Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, but I’m just trying to help.” Not sorry for what she said—sorry for how I felt about it. That’s not an apology; it’s a dismissal.
5) Making everything about them
Your promotion at work becomes about how proud they can be. Your child’s milestone becomes their grandparent achievement. Your struggles become their failures as parents.
“What will people think?” “How could you do this to us?” “After everything we’ve done for you…”
Parents often don’t realize they’re centering themselves. They think they’re showing investment in our lives. But when every conversation circles back to their feelings, their needs, their perspectives, we start feeling like supporting characters in their story rather than protagonists in our own.
6) Refusing to acknowledge you’ve grown up
The childhood nicknames. The embarrassing stories told to every new partner. The assumption that you still like the same foods, have the same interests, need the same things you did at fifteen.
They’re trying to hold onto connection through nostalgia, to keep the family dynamics familiar and comfortable, for them. But when they insist on seeing us as the children we were rather than the adults we’ve become, it’s suffocating.
My dad still tries to cut my meat at dinner sometimes. I’m in my thirties. I have children of my own. But in his eyes, I’m forever his little girl who needs help with her chicken.
7) Violating privacy and boundaries
Going through your things when they visit. Sharing your personal information with relatives. Dropping by unannounced. Reading your mail that happens to be on the counter.
They think families shouldn’t have secrets, that closeness means no boundaries. But boundaries aren’t walls; they’re the structures that let relationships thrive. When parents constantly push past them, insisting that “family doesn’t need permission,” they’re actually pushing us away.
Finding a path forward
Writing this, I realize how much pain exists on both sides of this divide. Our parents love us. We love them. But sometimes love isn’t enough if it’s expressed in ways that hurt rather than heal.
The behaviors that make us dread holiday visits aren’t born from malice but from misunderstanding. Our parents are often parenting from their own wounds, their own fears, their own outdated playbooks.
They’re doing what their parents did, or desperately trying not to, without realizing that we need something entirely different from them now.
Maybe this holiday season, instead of just enduring or avoiding, we can start having real conversations about what we need from each other. It won’t be easy. Change never is, especially when patterns have been set for decades.
But imagine holidays where visits feel like respite instead of work, where we actually look forward to that November phone call.
It’s possible, but only if we’re all willing to see each other clearly, not as the parents and children we were, but as the adults we all are now, still learning, still growing, still figuring out how to love each other well.
