When I tell my 4-year-old things like, “Please don’t slam that skateboard into your little brother,” or “No, we’re not turning the couch cushions into a fort,” he pouts and claims I’m being unfair. On his more diplomatic days, he’ll express his dislike for my words. It’s comical, really—he seems offended by my parenting approach, which is quite ironic, given that I strive to discipline in gentle and respectful ways.
I started this parenting journey four years ago, fully embracing the ideals of attachment parenting. What new mom doesn’t want the power to soothe her child’s every tear? This style promotes co-sleeping, extended breastfeeding, and yes, even letting your child set the agenda (just kidding… sort of). In this mindset, every cry of a baby or toddler signals distress that a parent must resolve.
This approach was all warm and cozy until I found myself utterly drained, feeling lost in the process. I became resentful, yearning for a sense of self outside of motherhood. I wanted to wake up without stealthily creeping out of bed, hoping my little shadow wouldn’t notice my absence. I wanted to meet my child’s needs, but I also wanted to prioritize my own. Over time, I began to realize that establishing boundaries was essential.
So, I embraced concepts like mother-led weaning and sleep training. It wasn’t easy to adjust my mindset, but I learned to accept that crying could be a natural and sometimes therapeutic response. For example, one summer day, my 3-year-old tripped while running along the sidewalk. When I offered him ice, a Band-Aid, or animal crackers to comfort him, he simply shook his head and said, “No, I just want to cry.” This reminded me that tears can actually be healing. Research shows that crying releases stress-relieving hormones, improves mood, and is a normal reaction to various emotions.
Understanding this, I felt less compelled to rush in and rescue him from his feelings. Sure, I want to comfort him when he’s upset, but I also recognize that I must enforce rules and set boundaries. I’ve learned that the kindest thing I can do is not to shield him from all negative feelings but to help him navigate and cope with them.
When I say no, I accept his emotional reactions because permissiveness doesn’t foster happiness or healthy relationships. Kids need to know their parents are true leaders, and even though he sometimes calls me a “Mean Mommy,” I know he ultimately benefits from a sense of security. He may think he wants to do whatever he pleases, but deep down, he seeks the trust that I will keep him in check.
Respecting my son doesn’t mean treating him as an equal. I give him choices, but only among reasonable options. He doesn’t choose his bedtime, but he can pick whether to read one book or two. Dinner options? Not lollipops, but he can choose how much to eat. And when it’s time to leave the park, he can decide whether to hold my hand or not. I used to give him too much power, thinking it was respectful, but now I see that there’s a fine line.
My kids cry when I set limits. “No, you can’t break the crayons.” “No, I won’t whip up a snack right after lunch.” “No, you may not watch another episode.” Allowing them to express their feelings shows that I accept them, rather than bending the rules just to keep them happy. I used to confuse empathy with preventing my kids from having negative feelings. Now, I understand that empathetic parenting means acknowledging their emotions without rescuing them or punishing them.
Setting boundaries means saying, “You’re upset, and that’s fine. Scream all you want, but do it in your room or outside. When you’re done, we can have a chat and share a hug.” I want my son to accept his feelings, but I won’t allow myself to be his emotional punching bag. “You can be grumpy, but please don’t talk to me with an attitude.”
Understanding my child’s motives doesn’t equate to accepting inappropriate behavior. While my job is to love and care for him, it’s equally my responsibility to teach him how to handle his emotions appropriately. Kids can use their feelings to manipulate, and by staying comfortable with their tears, I minimize that power.
I’ve become comfortable saying no, especially after realizing there were times I didn’t set limits soon enough, leading to my own frustration. Just yesterday, my son wanted me to find a specific shirt and his soccer socks (which, honestly, I can’t keep organized!). He also insisted on wearing his cleats and shin guards. Feeling frazzled, I told myself, “Don’t try to please him just to avoid a meltdown. Just say no.”
I love saying yes to my son whenever I can—but only when I genuinely mean it. I say no because I value authenticity over merely being nice. By establishing boundaries for myself, I teach him consideration and how to respect his own needs. We are role models for our children.
I used to believe my son’s happiness was paramount, but I’ve learned that his struggles often present valuable opportunities for growth. By holding firm, I communicate trust, and that, in essence, is what respectful parenting is all about. I say no because I care about his well-being—and mine too.
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In summary, embracing the word “no” while parenting can be a profound tool for teaching respect and emotional resilience. It’s all about finding that balance between nurturing and guiding our children through their feelings, and letting them know that it’s okay to feel upset while still holding firm on our boundaries.