Let’s be real for a second: every generation swears they’ll “do things differently.”
Then life happens—mortgages, toddlers, stress, nostalgia—and somehow, those old habits sneak right back in through the side door.
I’ve seen it firsthand with my own parents. They swore up and down they’d never “parent like their folks,” yet decades later, a lot of the same patterns quietly resurfaced.
And now, as a millennial dad myself, I get it. Parenting is hard, and under pressure, we default to what’s familiar—even if we once promised we wouldn’t.
So, let’s unpack this a bit. Here are eight things boomers swore they’d never repeat from their parents… but often did anyway.
1) Using guilt as a parenting tool
Ever heard something like, “After all I’ve done for you…” or “You’ll understand when you’re older”?
Boomers grew up under a parenting style where guilt was basically emotional currency. Their parents didn’t always mean harm—they just saw guilt as a way to teach gratitude or obedience.
But many boomers promised, “I’ll never do that to my kids.”
And yet, fast-forward 30 years, and there it is again—woven into everyday conversations. Not out of cruelty, but out of exhaustion or fear.
Guilt slips in when we’re desperate for cooperation or appreciation.
I’ve caught myself almost doing it too. The other night, after cleaning up the umpteenth spill, I heard that little voice whisper: “Elise, I just did all this for you!”
But I bit my tongue. Because that’s not really about her—it’s about me wanting to be seen.
When we use guilt, we teach kids that love is conditional. A better approach? Pause, name the feeling, and set a clear boundary.
“Hey, I feel tired after cleaning up. Can you help me this time?” It’s honest, and it models healthy emotional language instead of emotional debt.
2) Valuing obedience over understanding
Boomers were raised in an era where “Because I said so” was basically the national anthem of parenting.
Their parents believed authority kept kids safe—and to be fair, the world did feel less forgiving then.
But many boomers vowed to trade obedience for open dialogue. And yet, when their own kids started talking back, those old instincts came roaring back. Suddenly, understanding took a backseat to compliance.
It’s easy to see why. When your toddler refuses to brush their teeth for the fifth night in a row, patience feels like a luxury.
But forcing obedience doesn’t teach emotional regulation—it teaches performance. Kids learn to “act right” when watched instead of developing internal motivation.
Instead of “Do it because I said so,” it becomes, “Let’s talk about why we brush our teeth and how we can make it fun.” It’s slower, yes—but it builds trust, not fear.
3) Dismissing emotions as weakness
Boomers were often told to “toughen up,” “stop crying,” or “walk it off.” Their parents—products of wars, economic hardship, and survival—saw emotional expression as indulgent or unproductive.
So many boomers vowed they’d let their kids feel.
But then… they had kids. And big feelings are messy. Tears during homework time, anger at bedtime, meltdown at the grocery store—and suddenly, the easiest words in the world to say are, “You’re fine.”
I’ve done it. I’ve said it. And every time, I regret it.
Because when we rush to shut down our kids’ emotions, we send the message that some feelings aren’t welcome.
Instead, I’ve learned to say things like, “You’re feeling frustrated because it’s not working yet—want to take a break and try again?” It’s slower but it builds emotional resilience instead of emotional avoidance.
4) Equating success with stability
Boomers grew up in a post-war world that prized stability—steady jobs, houses, pensions. Their parents survived scarcity, so they preached one message loud and clear: security equals happiness.
Boomers, many of whom came of age in a more prosperous era, swore they’d value passion and fulfillment instead. They’d “follow their dreams.”
But then the realities of adulthood hit—mortgages, college savings, aging parents—and suddenly, that old “get a stable job and stick with it” mentality didn’t sound so bad.
And they passed it on. They meant well, but their kids often grew up equating worth with productivity and safety with status.
It’s something I think about a lot as I raise my own kids. I want Elise and Julien to know that stability is valuable—but it’s not the only goal.
Curiosity, creativity, and connection matter just as much. Success isn’t one shape—it’s whatever life looks like when your values and your actions match up.
5) Seeing household work as gendered
If you ask a boomer couple who did the dishes growing up, you’ll probably get the same answer: “Mom.”
Even in homes where both parents worked, domestic labor was still largely Mom’s domain. And lots of boomer dads swore they’d “help more” once they had families.
But “helping” isn’t the same as sharing. And that’s where many fell short.
To be fair, this wasn’t malicious—it was cultural momentum. But the mental load didn’t disappear. It just became invisible labor that mothers carried alone.
That’s something Camille and I are determined to break. We treat home life like a team sport: shared calendars, rotating chores, honest check-ins. If one of us is drowning, the other steps in—no heroics, no keeping score.
True partnership means not assuming one parent is the “default.”
6) Believing kids should be seen, not heard
Boomers heard this one a lot growing up—and they didn’t like it. They promised to give their children a voice. But when life got chaotic, the easiest way to restore order was still: “Because I’m the parent.”
It’s ironic, isn’t it? We want our kids to advocate for themselves—until they start doing it at home.
But every time we shut them down mid-sentence or dismiss their ideas because “they don’t understand yet,” we teach them to stay quiet.
That voice we say we want them to have? It gets smaller.
Letting kids speak doesn’t mean letting them run the show. It means teaching them how to speak up respectfully and when to listen.
When Elise says, “I don’t think that’s fair,” we talk it through. She might not get her way, but she gets heard—and that matters.
Because one day, she’ll be in rooms where her voice deserves space.
7) Prioritizing appearances over authenticity
Boomers came of age when appearances mattered. The house was spotless before guests arrived, kids were dressed neatly, emotions were kept private.
It wasn’t vanity—it was pride, control, and a sense of order.
They swore they’d drop the facade with their own families. “We’ll be real,” they said.
But real is messy. Real means your kid melts down in Target, or your house looks lived-in, or you admit you’re having a rough day.
And when that discomfort hits, many default back to presentation over honesty.
Even I’ve felt it. The urge to make everything look calm when it isn’t. But our kids learn more from our transparency than our perfection.
When I say, “Hey, I’m having a hard day, but I’m trying to stay calm,” I’m teaching emotional honesty—not weakness.
As Brené Brown has famously said, “Vulnerability is not winning or losing; it’s having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome.”
That’s what I want my kids to see.
8) Measuring worth by productivity
Boomers grew up watching their parents equate rest with laziness and work with virtue.
Idle hands were the devil’s playground, right?
They vowed they’d rest more, play more, and savor life. But in practice, many replaced their parents’ overwork with their own. Instead of factory shifts, it was office jobs, side hustles, and “just one more email.”
They didn’t slow down—they just changed gears.
Now, we’re the generation trying to undo all that. I’m learning that rest is work—emotional work, physical recovery, relational repair.
When I lie down on the playroom rug and let Julien crawl over me while Elise builds a block tower, that’s not “doing nothing.” That’s being present.
And if my kids grow up seeing that, maybe they’ll inherit something better than hustle: balance.
Final thoughts
Every generation thinks they’re rewriting the parenting playbook. In truth, most of us are just editing it—crossing out the hard parts, adding footnotes, trying to evolve.
Boomers didn’t fail because they repeated some of their parents’ patterns. They failed when they stopped reflecting on why those patterns existed and what purpose they served.
That’s what I want for us now—for me, for Camille, for anyone raising kids in the chaos of modern life. To stay reflective.
Because the truth is, none of us will break every cycle. But we can break some.
The next time you hear your parent’s voice echoing in your own, don’t panic. Just notice it. Smile, maybe. Then choose what to do next—on purpose, not autopilot.
That’s how generational change really happens.
