Psychology Says Be Her Best Friend. Jen Says Be Her Mother.
Psychology says your job is to build a "wonderful relationship" with your kid - attuned, affirming, always available. Jen says: that's not parenting. That's auditioning.
I know how that sounds. Stay with me.
For years, I did everything the parenting books told me to do. I explained my reasoning. I validated every feeling before I asked for a single ounce of obedience. I praised constantly, because more praise was supposed to build more confidence. I told myself that if my kids didn't like a decision, I'd failed to communicate it well enough, and I'd try again - softer, longer, more careful.
It didn't happen all at once. There was no single blow-up that knocked me off that path. It was slower than that, like a creeping exhaustion. I was managing everyone's feelings, including my own, all day long, yet the house still felt out of control. My kids weren't more secure. They were more anxious, more entitled, and - this is the part that stung - less respectful of me, not more. I had traded my authority for their approval, and I hadn't even gotten the approval. 😣
The Reframe
I know how easily this gets heard as an attack so please hear me clearly: I don't think the people behind modern parenting psychology set out to wreck families. Most of it comes from a sincere desire to stop the harshness a lot of us grew up with. That instinct isn't wrong. But along the way, "don't be harsh" turned into "don't lead" and those are not the same thing.
Scripture never told us parenting was about being liked. Jeremiah 6:16 tells us to "stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths... and walk in them, and you will find rest for your souls." Rest. Not a constant, exhausting negotiation with a nine-year-old about bedtime. The ancient paths weren't harsh - they were clear. And clarity, it turns out, is a form of love that modern psychology has talked us out of trusting. 🕊️
What Actually Changed My House
The turning point for me wasn't a technique. It was a posture shift. A move from being my kids' peer to being their leader. Leaders don't need their people to like every decision in the moment. They need their people to trust that the decision was made for them, by someone who actually has the wheel.
Three things shifted when I stopped trying to be my kids' best friend:
🌟I stopped explaining everything. Not because explanation is bad, but because over-explaining had become a way of asking permission. My "yes" started meaning yes. My "no" started meaning no - full sentence, no negotiation clause attached.
🌟 I let consequences do the teaching instead of me. I used to intervene, soften, rescue. Now I let reality - a forgotten assignment, a lost privilege, a natural result - do most of the disciplining. It's slower to feel good and faster to actually work.
🌟 I put my marriage back at the center. My relationship with my husband became the priority relationship. When the marriage is the anchor of the home instead of the kids' feelings, something in the whole house exhales. The kids stop running the emotional weather, because they were never supposed to.
For what it's worth, none of this made my kids like me less. It actually made them respect me more, which, it turns out, is the foundation relationship gets built on later, not the other way around.
Permission, Not Shame
If you're reading this with that familiar tightness in your chest - the feeling that you've been doing it "wrong" for years - that's not the point of this post. You were following advice that sounded loving. Most of us were. This isn't about shame. It's about permission…permission to stop managing your children's every emotion, to lead instead of negotiate, to trust that clarity is kinder than endless explanation ever was.
You don't have to overhaul everything today. You just have to stop apologizing for wanting to lead your home.
If this is stirring something in you, I'd love for you to join the Motherhood, Undivided waitlist - it's where I'm sharing the full framework behind everything above, built specifically for moms standing right where I used to stand. Come find your rest for your soul. There's room at the crossroads.
