Being the eldest child carries a weight that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it.
You grow up fast. You become the built-in babysitter, the emotional support system, the second-in-command when your parents are stretched too thin. And for me, growing up in a divorced home made all of that even heavier.
There wasn’t much choice, I had to help. With two younger sisters and a household that was constantly shifting between survival and routine, my childhood was a blur of responsibility. I learned how to soothe crying toddlers, manage bedtime routines, and read the emotional temperature of a room before I even knew how to multiply.
I was a kid playing the role of a second mom.
Now, as an adult raising children of my own, I often find myself fighting that inner default, expecting too much too soon from my oldest child, just like was expected of me. I don’t want them to feel like they have to earn their place in our home through perfection or productivity. I want them to have a childhood. A real one.
But I also know that responsibility isn’t a bad thing. In fact, age-appropriate chores and helping out around the house can build confidence, a sense of purpose, and family unity. The challenge? Finding that balance.
Responsibility Without Pressure
It’s a dance, really.
One part giving them tasks they can succeed in.
One part stepping back and not expecting them to carry the emotional or logistical weight of the household.
I catch myself, sometimes. Asking too much. Assuming they’ll “just know” how to help because I knew.
But then I pause.
They’re not me.
They’re not here to fix things I haven’t healed yet.
They don’t need to feel the pressure to hold the house together just because I once did.
So we give chores.
We teach life skills.
We model service and care.
But we also let them laugh loudly, make mistakes, and take their time growing up. Because they deserve a safe space to be children, not little adults wearing oversized expectations.
Healing While Parenting
One of the hardest things about parenting when you have childhood wounds is realizing your healing isn’t a side project: it’s part of the job.
When I notice frustration bubbling up, when my child is “slacking” or not taking responsibility, I often check in with my own inner child. Is this about them? Or is this about me?
Sometimes the truth stings.
I’m not mad they left dishes in the sink.
I am mad because, at their age, I was the one doing the dishes after putting my baby sisters to bed.
I’m mad because I was tired and no one noticed.
I’m mad because I didn’t get to be a kid.
But my anger isn’t for them to carry.
It’s mine to process. Mine to heal.
And healing doesn’t happen overnight.
But I believe every small decision to parent differently, to pause, to comfort, to reframe, is a step toward freedom for them and for me.
Letting Kids Be Kids
At the heart of it all is this:
I want my children to feel safe being exactly who they are.
Not who I needed to be at their age.
Not who the world tells them to be.
Just them.
So I watch their eyes light up when they play.
I listen when they share their worries, and I try not to add my own weight to their little shoulders.
I apologize when I get it wrong and I ask them how they feel. Most of all I let them be heard.
Because children don’t need perfection.
They need presence and grace.
They need room to be little, even when I’m still learning how.
Finding the Balance
Is it easy? No.
Some days I get it all wrong.
But I keep showing up.
I keep reminding myself that responsibility doesn’t have to mean pressure.
That helping doesn’t mean holding the whole world up.
And most importantly, that my children are allowed to be children: even when I wasn’t.
They’re allowed to grow slowly, to laugh loudly, to cry freely.
They’re allowed to be messy, silly, tender, imperfect.
Because that’s how we grow into whole people.
And maybe, just maybe, as I learn to give them what I didn’t have, I’m also learning to give a little bit of that grace to myself too.
Need more on generation cycle breaking? Read about Raising Living Room Kid’s from a generation that was told to go play in the bedroom.
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