Summer of 1974: I was just 9 years old, waking up early and heading out of the house or, on Saturdays, following my dad’s orders—whether it was mowing the lawn, raking leaves, or washing the car.
Fast forward to this summer: I’m quietly slipping out the door for work, careful not to disturb my kids who will likely sleep until noon. They might tackle a few chores from the list I left on the kitchen counter, or they may opt for stale snacks left in their rooms days ago, avoiding the kitchen to dodge the list entirely.
If you haven’t noticed, the parenting landscape has shifted dramatically. When did we start prioritizing our children’s happiness, safety, and social status? I can assure you that my parents, Ginny and Big Jerry, weren’t spending their time worrying about my fulfillment. Big Jerry was busy saving for retirement while Ginny double-locked the door to keep us outside, chatting on the phone while enjoying a cigarette.
Meanwhile, we were off adventuring in neighborhoods far from ours, sometimes crossing busy roads on bikes with barely inflated tires. It was a given—if we weren’t doing chores, we were expected to be out of the house.
In my opinion, the same person who decided that 4-year-olds should receive party favors is the one who convinced us that we are here to cater to our children rather than the other way around. Think about your Halloween costumes as a kid. If you were lucky, your mom might have fashioned a ghost out of an old sheet, complete with eye holes—if you were even lucky enough to get both holes cut before the party started. I recall a cousin who ran into a parked car while wearing such a costume, yelling, “Trick or treat!” as he slid down the side of a Buick.
When my son turned 3, we splurged on a professionally made clown costume, complete with grease paint. His grandmother spent more on that costume than my prom dress.
Somewhere along the line, parenting shifted. Now, we buy our kids the best gear and pay for private lessons, often at the expense of our own needs. I’m guilty of this too, investing in expensive baseball bats instead of saving for retirement. Remember Hank Aaron? He didn’t need a $300 bat to excel. Your child isn’t going pro, and neither is mine, but you will want to retire one day without having to dig through trash cans.
Reflect back to your childhood. Who did the chores? You did. Many parents had kids for free labor. My mother ensured the house was spotless before my dad arrived home. The urgent command was often, “Your father will be home in 15 minutes! Get those toys put away now!” As a result, our evenings involved turning the TV channel to whatever Dad wanted to watch.
Now, household tasks are often left to cleaning services and landscapers. Most teenagers have never even mowed a lawn. If you asked my daughter to clean a toilet, she would probably present a lengthy report on bacteria found there. Everyone is too busy with activities and schoolwork to maintain their surroundings.
No one cared about my stress levels as a kid. My father would have had no clue when my birthday was until a decade later. We managed our social lives and school affairs without adult intervention. If someone insulted my haircut or told me I wouldn’t get a date, my mom didn’t call their mother to resolve it. No calls were made to teachers or coaches, either. If we sat on the bench, we stayed there. My dad was too busy working to attend games anyway.
High school was our training ground for adulthood. We took on jobs to fund our desires for cars and clothes. Without a job, we were stuck with hand-me-downs and borrowed rides from our parents. I was lucky enough to get a car at all, even if it was an old red MG Midget that barely ran.
Today, teenagers drive cars that are often beyond the reach of adults working full-time jobs, and they aren’t paying for them. These new vehicles don’t provide the same storytelling experiences we had. The best tales from my youth involve cars that barely worked, not the shiny new SUVs that kids drive today.
Moreover, many head off to college without understanding the job application process. If they have jobs, they often work only when it fits into their schedules, thanks to family connections.
We love our children and want to see them happy, but in our quest to provide everything, we might be depriving them of the valuable life lessons that come from hard work and perseverance. Most of what I had as a teen was earned through my own efforts.
Our children receive nearly everything, and I sometimes wonder if it’s for them or to make us feel like good parents. The truth is, nothing holds the same value as something earned. Our experiences offered lessons we didn’t realize at the time—how to negotiate, compromise, and accept that life isn’t fair.
We can’t seem to tell our kids they must work for what they want. We shield them from failure, providing them with material comforts that will eventually wear out or become obsolete. While some may take pride in providing for their kids, I share the frustration of many parents concerned about what our children are missing out on.
Delayed gratification is crucial. It teaches resilience and helps children appreciate value. Unfortunately, today’s youth have little concept of this. Delayed gratification is merely waiting for a few extra minutes before receiving what they want.
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In summary, as we navigate the complexities of modern parenting, it’s vital to strike a balance between providing for our children and allowing them to learn essential life skills that will prepare them for the future.
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