Summer of 1974: I was just 9 years old, up and out of the house by 7:30 a.m. On Saturdays, I was busy with tasks assigned by my father, Big Mike—raking leaves, mowing the lawn, digging holes, or washing the car.
Fast forward to this summer: I’m sneaking out of the house early to head to work, careful not to wake my kids, who will likely sleep until noon. They might tackle a couple of chores from the list I left them on the kitchen counter, or they might opt for stale crackers left in their rooms days ago, avoiding the kitchen and the list entirely.
It seems we’re getting a raw deal with this parenting business. When did it become a priority for adults to ensure their children were safe, happy, or popular? I can assure you, neither my parents nor my friends’ parents were spending their time worrying about our fulfillment. Big Mike was focused on his retirement savings, while my mom, Linda, was busy keeping us out of the house and chatting on the phone.
Meanwhile, we roamed free, venturing three neighborhoods away to play with kids we barely knew, crossing busy streets on our bikes with less-than-ideal tires. One of us usually ended up with some impressive scrapes. No one cared. We were kids, and if we weren’t working as free labor for our parents, we were supposed to be out of sight.
I believe the same person who thought it was necessary for 4-year-olds to receive party favors is the one who convinced us that we exist to serve our kids, rather than the other way around. Consider your own childhood Halloween costumes. If you were fortunate, your mom might have cut eye holes in an old sheet for a ghost costume. If she was distracted, you’d be left with one eye hole cut and had to wait an eternity for the other to be made. I once saw my cousin crash headfirst into a parked car while wearing a costume like that, still shouting “Trick or treat!” as he slid down the side of a Buick, slightly dazed.
When my son turned three, his grandmother had a clown costume made for him, complete with a pointy hat and grease paint. She spent more on that costume than my prom dress!
Over the last couple of decades, the tables have turned, and now parents are left with the old clunkers while their kids enjoy the best of everything. We shell out big bucks for private lessons and top-notch sports gear, all while adhering to punishing competition schedules. I’m just as guilty—spending hundreds on bats that should have been saved for retirement, rushing to countless games and competitions without even pausing to think. Remember Hank Aaron? He didn’t need a $300 bat to make a name for himself. Your kid isn’t going pro, and neither is mine, yet we’re still investing in their fleeting glory.
Think back to your clothes from the ‘70s or ‘80s. Despite the urge to own a pair of genuine Converse shoes, I ended up with a cheap knockoff. Did I complain? Of course not. I survived just fine.
Today’s kids are decked out in outfits that cost more than my monthly utility bill. Designer baby clothes didn’t exist in our time; our parents were too practical to splurge when they knew we’d quickly outgrow or ruin them. They were focused on saving for retirement and paying off the house. Ironically, the very children who are showered with material goods may soon find themselves jobless, unable to afford the necessities, so guess who gets the call when they can’t pay rent? You guessed it, us.
Consider who did the housework and yard work when you were young. You did. Many parents saw children as free labor. My mom oversaw the chores, ensuring the house was spotless by 5:35 p.m. when my dad came home. The panic cry would ring out, “Quick! Your father will be home soon! Clean up those toys!” We spent our evenings turning the channel on the TV to whatever Dad wanted to watch.
Now, who does the cleaning and yard work? A cleaning service and a landscaping crew. Most teenage boys wouldn’t know a lawnmower if it ran over them, and asking my daughter to clean a toilet would elicit a four-page report on bacteria! Everyone is too busy to manage what they already have. Yet, they’re not working or anything like that—balancing schoolwork, extracurriculars, and our finances is already stressful enough without a job.
I don’t recall anyone worrying about my stress levels as a child. My father didn’t even remember my birthday until a decade ago. My parents had grown-up issues to manage. We handled our social lives and school responsibilities without parental interference. If someone insulted my perm, my mother wouldn’t have known or intervened.
Additionally, no calls were made to teachers or coaches on our behalf. If we sat on the bench, that was where we stayed. My dad was too busy to leave work for a game. If I received a 92.999 and ended up with a B, that was that. No bribes were exchanged for grades—just full disclosure, mine was likely an 84.9999. I was the poster child for mediocrity.
High school was a testing ground for adulthood. We took jobs to fund our desires, fueled by the hope of owning cars and wearing trendy brands. If we didn’t work, we were stuck with hand-me-downs and a borrowed car. No one got a brand new vehicle. I considered myself lucky when my parents bought me a car, which I use loosely. It was a red MG Midget—definitely a death trap.
Imagine a coffee table with a steering wheel, and you’ll understand the size of my car. The starter was faulty, and I often had to rely on friends to help me get it going. Kids today drive cars that most adults working full-time can’t afford, and they don’t even pay for them with their earnings.
Those shiny new vehicles won’t provide unforgettable stories. I remind my kids that the best tales from my youth involve old, beat-up cars, not flashy models with perfect gas tanks. A story that begins with, “Remember the time we were in Carla’s Nissan and lost a wallet through the floor?” is far more interesting than nothing happening in a new SUV.
Most of these kids head off to college clueless about job hunting, interviewing, or punctuality. If they have a job, it’s often due to a favor owed to their parents, and they work when it’s convenient for them.
We love our kids and want them to be happy, but I worry we’re depriving them of experiences that shape them into capable, responsible adults. The nice things we had were earned through hard work and saving.
Our children receive everything handed to them, and I wonder if it’s truly for their benefit or to soothe our own parental insecurities. The truth is, we don’t value what we’re given as much as what we’ve earned. Our experiences taught us lessons we didn’t realize at the time. High school conflicts with friends and teachers were opportunities to learn negotiation and compromise, as well as the realities of life. We graduated as problem solvers, but I fear our kids leave with their parents on speed dial.
We lack the courage our parents had. We hesitate to tell our children that they won’t have something unless they work for it, fearing their disappointment. We’ve given them an abundance of material possessions—things that will break, get lost, or go out of style. While some parents take pride in providing these luxuries, I feel frustrated by what we’re taking away from them.
We’ve deprived them of learning the value of delayed gratification, which teaches perseverance and discernment. Our kids don’t understand it; to them, waiting means a simple command from an authority figure.
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Summary:
The evolution of parenting has led to a culture where children receive excessive material goods without learning the value of hard work. This article discusses how today’s parents often prioritize their children’s happiness and fulfillment over teaching essential life skills. With the shift from childhood independence to dependence on parents, there’s concern that kids miss out on vital experiences that foster responsibility and resilience.