Neither mother nor daughter arrived in a good mood that day.<\/p>\n
It was the end of summer, 2019, at their local park in a suburb north of Toronto. They set out for their walk, the smell of cut grass oppressive in the sticky, sweaty heat. Kathryn Ross was just a few weeks postpartum, pushing her baby boy in a stroller. She was irritable and anxious from exhaustion and sleeplessness. Every day and night unfolded exactly like the last. The demands never-ending. <\/p>\n
Seeing Kathryn like this made her mother, Norma Oda, anxious, too. She wanted to help Kathryn, who was her baby. But everything she said seemed to irritate Kathryn further. \u201cI felt,\u201d she said, \u201clike her punching bag.\u201d<\/p>\n
Open this photo in gallery:<\/a><\/p>\n Growing up in the 1990s, Kathryn formed a close bond with her mother as she stayed home to raise her.Chlo\u00eb Ellingson\/The Globe and Mail<\/p>\n Up until that summer, Kathryn, now 36 and Norma, 65, often described themselves to others as that rare unicorn: mother and daughter, but also best friends. Growing up in Markham, Ont., Kathryn had lots of friends, but still often chose to hang out with her mom. At Kathryn\u2019s wedding, Norma was a bridesmaid. Even as an adult, Kathryn still called her mom almost every day. <\/p>\n But as mother and daughter walked through the park that afternoon, the conversation was perfunctory. How are feedings going? Fine. Are you getting any sleep? Barely.<\/p>\n About midway through the walk, Kathryn broke the news. We\u2019ve decided to take a trip to Quebec, she said. Her husband\u2019s family lived there, and they wanted to meet the baby. They\u2019d talked about it, decided it was the right thing to do.<\/p>\n Norma was startled. She and Kathryn had discussed a potential Quebec visit before, and the challenges of taking a six-week-old baby on an eight-hour road trip. About how hard it would be. It\u2019s too much, too soon, she told Kathryn. A bad idea.<\/p>\n Kathryn nodded her head. She understood this. She was nervous, too. It would be hard, she said. Still, it was important to them. They would figure out a way to make it work.<\/p>\n But Norma was still shaking her head. The baby, she said. It\u2019s not good for the baby.<\/p>\n That\u2019s when the dam burst. \u201cIt had been building, building, building, and then just hit a peak,\u201d said Kathryn. It was one of the worst fights they had ever had. Afterward, said Norma, \u201cI just went home in tears.\u201d<\/p>\n Open this photo in gallery:<\/a><\/p>\n \u2018I am an older person, but I do have experience to offer,\u2019 Norma says of her approach to raising children.Chlo\u00eb Ellingson\/The Globe and Mail<\/p>\n The trip came and went, but for weeks the pair went without speaking. No calls or visits.<\/p>\n Eventually, Kathryn reached out to her mom. They made up. But the next months and years would see more skirmishes. They argued about sleep schedules and swaddling. Later, the fights were about discipline, sugar and screen time. Clashes around how best to raise the young child. <\/p>\n Norma would make comments, or offer advice. Kathryn would bristle. Between the two generations, between Norma and Kathryn, it kept coming down to the same question: Mother knows best, but which one? <\/p>\n It\u2019s a situation that many families will recognize. As millennials \u2013 now between the ages of 29 and 44 \u2013 move into their prime childbearing years, they\u2019re adjusting to their new role as parents. But the approach they\u2019re taking is not the same as the baby boomers\u2019. Some 88 per cent of millennial parents say they\u2019re choosing to parent differently than how they were raised. And it\u2019s causing all kinds of friction.<\/p>\n Spend any time in a parent group chat, or at a pickleball court, and you\u2019ll soon hear the many grievances. Social media is rife with complaints. Millennials vent about out-of-touch boomer grandparents, either overbearing and intrusive, or selfish and unwilling to help. Baby boomer grandparents gripe about clueless, overly gentle millennial parents who act like they\u2019re reinventing the wheel. <\/p>\n What we\u2019re seeing is the consequence of a massive shift taking place all around the world: the two largest demographics \u2013 millennials and baby boomers \u2013 simultaneously transitioning into brand new stages of life. And when you listen closely, when you put the petty grumblings aside and distill the disputes down to what they\u2019re really about, you realize that it\u2019s a conversation that goes far beyond the trenches of raising young children. It\u2019s not just a conflict about parenting, but about what we value as people. About what\u2019s important to us, as humans, to pass on to the next generation. <\/p>\n Joys Anderson \u2013 at home in Langley, B.C., with dog Ziggy \u2013 raised her daughter in the 1980s, with what she describes as a \u2018transactional\u2019 approach to daily tasks. Now, as a grandmother, Joys understands that her daughter is doing something different, more focused on mental health and well-being.<\/p>\n Isabella Falsetti\/The Globe and Mail<\/p>\n Before gentle parenting, and free-range parenting, and tiger and helicopter parenting \u2013 before we worried about attachment styles and how the first weeks of our baby\u2019s lives might impact them decades into the future \u2013 there was only survival. <\/p>\n A century ago, parents in North America were living through the second Industrial Revolution. Babies were born into cramped, often unsafe and unsanitary conditions, with little access to health care or medicine. In Canada, where about one in 10 children died before the age of one, the focus for many parents was just on keeping kids alive. <\/p>\n Until then, parenting had been the realm of women. But the high rates of child mortality prompted \u201cexperts\u201d to get involved \u2013 government officials, doctors and other professionals who began to prescribe rigid routines for children and their parents.<\/p>\n The emphasis at the time was single-minded, said Linda Quirke, a sociology professor from Wilfrid Laurier University: \u201cThe focus was on children\u2019s bodies.\u201d In the rare instance that experts weighed in on a child\u2019s social or emotional development, she said, it was to emphasize rigour and discipline.<\/p>\n \u201cNever hug and kiss them,\u201d wrote John Watson, an American psychologist and prominent parenting expert of the time. To show affection was to coddle or spoil them. Emotions were a sign of weakness. He advised mothers to shake hands with their children instead.<\/p>\n Mr. Watson\u2019s beliefs about the importance of strict, authoritarian parenting were still dominant in the post-Second World War period, as the baby boomers were raised. Since then, parenting ideologies have shifted, changed, evolved. But the long tail of this history explains many of the conflicts we\u2019re now seeing.<\/p>\n Open this photo in gallery:<\/a><\/p>\n The Jolly Jumper, invented by an Indigenous woman from Canada, was one of the new array of technologies boomers got exposed to as postwar child-rearing became less strict.Harold Robinson\/The Globe and Mail<\/p>\n Advice from a baby boomer grandparent \u2013 to let a newborn baby cry it out, for instance \u2013 might seem cruel to a millennial parent. But it may simply be a grandparent passing down what they learned in their own childhood. <\/p>\n Things began to shift after the 1960s. Family structures were still built around hierarchy, but scientists were increasingly learning about how children\u2019s brains develop and learn from a very young age.<\/p>\n \u201cBy the time we get into the 60s, said Prof. Quirke, \u201cit was about children\u2019s brains.\u201d <\/p>\n The popularity of Benjamin Spock, a.k.a. \u201cDr. Spock,\u201d further nudged parents in a more permissive direction. He advised parents to loosen up \u2013 to trust their own instincts, and allow their children some affection. <\/p>\n Open this photo in gallery:<\/a><\/p>\n Pediatrician Benjamin Spock, speaking in Toronto in 1993, laid the groundwork for a more affectionate style of parenting.Roger Hallett\/The Globe and Mail<\/p>\n By the 1980s, the baby boomers were the parents. The dominant ideology was still authoritarian. But around them, the world was changing. Women were increasingly entering the workforce. There was \u201cstranger danger.\u201d Economic inequality was growing and parents feared what their children\u2019s futures might look like. <\/p>\n \u201cThere were all these various kinds of anxieties that began to circulate around what it means when women work and how parents should parent their children,\u201d said Lisa Strohschein, a sociology professor at the University of Alberta. Experts emerged to address those concerns, writing books and in magazines claiming to have answers for raising the best, most successful children for this uncertain future.<\/p>\n This was the beginning of \u201cintensive parenting,\u201d said Prof. Strohschein. Parents increasingly saw themselves as the sole architects of their childrens\u2019 lives, responsible entirely for their eventual failure or success. They fixated on extracurricular activities and after-school education. They became \u201chelicopter parents\u201d or \u201csnow plow\u201d parents, who cleared the path ahead to prevent any potential stumble.<\/p>\n Open this photo in gallery:<\/a><\/p>\n At an Ontario high school in 1996, these millennial tweens \u2013 a term that, back then, had only recently caught on \u2013 tend to their baby dolls during a class project on child care. Today, many millennial cohorts have reached their peak years for starting families.Tibor Kolley\/The Globe and Mail<\/p>\n Which brings us to the current moment: millennial parenting. <\/p>\n Despite the conflicts between the generations, Prof. Quirke said millennials are in many ways simply finishing what the baby boomers started. They still believe that parenting should be an active role; if anything, they\u2019ve intensified intensive parenting. <\/p>\n But they\u2019re living in an era of, arguably, even more anxiety. There was the COVID-19 pandemic. A tumultuous global economy. Climate change. And then there\u2019s the internet and social media \u2013 countless influencers and online experts who create unrealistic, oftentimes confusing expectations. <\/p>\n Exit Dr. Spock, enter Dr. Becky. <\/p>\n Rebecca Kennedy, an American psychologist whose online advice has earned her the title of \u201cmillennial parenting whisperer,\u201d has emerged as the new voice of authority. Her approach can be loosely described as gentle parenting, but with, as she calls them, \u201csturdy boundaries.\u201d <\/p>\n Her main appeal to overwhelmed millennials is that she guides parents to approach both their child and themselves with empathy. Kid having a tantrum? Instead of punishing or shushing the child, Ms. Kennedy advises parents to try to understand their child\u2019s feelings, and to help them navigate those feelings. Her emphasis is on resilience and emotional regulation. On the relationship between parent and child. <\/p>\n This approach, of course, appeals to millennials \u2013 one of the most therapized generations ever \u2013 many of whom feel that their own emotional needs weren\u2019t prioritized during childhood. <\/p>\n As each successive generation carries forward, pushes against and builds upon the previous generation\u2019s parenting, it\u2019s tempting to view these changes through the lens of progress. Millennials certainly think so. The 2024 Lurie Children\u2019s Hospital of Chicago study, which found that most millennial parents are parenting differently from previous generations, also found that 73 per cent of them think they\u2019re parenting better than previous generations. <\/p>\n As if scaling Maslow\u2019s hierarchy of needs, the focus of each successive generation has been to climb up another rung: from the basic physiological concerns of early 20th century childrearing, to the preoccupations with safety and economic stability by baby boomers in the 1980s, to millennial parents now, with their focus on self-esteem. On love and belonging. <\/p>\n It\u2019s tempting to expect, using this lens, that within another generation or two, we\u2019ll reach the pinnacle of Maslow\u2019s triangle into a kind of collective self-actualization. <\/p>\n Except, of course, things are never that simple. Especially when you factor in considerations like gender, race and class.<\/p>\n While child care in this country still falls disproportionately on women (Statistics Canada shows women spend, on average, 52 hours a week on unpaid child care, compared with 30 hours for men), these generational differences still put distinct pressures on men. <\/p>\n As millennial fathers try to parent differently from their own parents, that push for change can be complicated by expectations around masculinity, said James Smith, a 42-year-old dad from Vancouver. <\/p>\n \u201cMany of us grew up with dads who were emotionally distant or expected to be the disciplinarians and breadwinners,\u201d he said. And now, as men become more involved, \u201cnobody is showing the dads how to be better dads. We just have to \u2018man up\u2019 and figure it out.\u201d<\/p>\n Open this photo in gallery:<\/a><\/p>\n Canadians of all cultures, including the many families sworn in as new citizens each year, each have their own traditions about raising children.Fernando Morales\/The Globe and Mail<\/p>\n And then there\u2019s the fact that many of the most popular parenting methods \u2013 the standards upon which many of us judge our performance as parents \u2013 are based off of research that\u2019s historically focused around white, middle-class and upper-class families.<\/p>\n \u201cAll of these questions are really exacerbated by one\u2019s own culture and upbringing,\u201d said Judith Bernhard, a professor of early childhood studies at Toronto Metropolitan University. This can be especially complicated for newcomer or immigrant families.<\/p>\n She gave the example of sleep training \u2013 coaching a baby to sleep on their own \u2013 as an idea popular in North America because of the emphasis here on independence and getting parents back to work. But in many Latin American cultures, where the focus is on spending time together as a family, she said it\u2019s common for children to share a bed with parents, or stay up later into the night.<\/p>\n Class, too, plays an important role, she said. For example: Whether to spoon-feed your child, or to let them explore (and potentially waste) food on their own? \u201cThat\u2019s cultural, but it\u2019s also class.\u201d <\/p>\n After all, a single parent or a parent living on a low income \u2013 regardless of generation \u2013 might not have the same amount of time or energy to devote to more intensive parenting approaches. And a parent who is struggling to survive is not likely to be preoccupied with self-actualization.<\/p>\n And then there\u2019s the fact that, when we talk about generations, what we\u2019re really talking about is people. Mothers and daughters. Fathers and sons. Each of them unique individuals, with their own histories, their own perspectives, their own relationship dynamics. <\/p>\n The way Norma raised Kathryn in the 1980s was in itself a reaction to the way she was raised in the 1960s. Norma\u2019s own parents were strict. On a few occasions, her mother made hurtful comments that stuck with her well into adulthood. So while Norma may have seemed strict to Kathryn, it was still gentle in comparison to the way she was raised.<\/p>\n \u201cYou just try,\u201d said Norma, \u201cto make improvements from what you grew up with.\u201d<\/p>\n Norma can quickly summarize a few of the aspects of millennial parenting that she has, over the years, taken issue with. <\/p>\n On gadgets and apps: \u201cExcessive.\u201d On lack of discipline: \u201cThere need to be consequences.\u201d On foregoing a strict sleep routine: \u201c100 per cent, frankly, ridiculous.\u201d<\/p>\n And it\u2019s not just parenting. On the subjects of millennials, the conversation quickly veers into \u201ckids these days\u201d territory. She thinks many \u2013 not all \u2013 of them are materialistic and obsessed with social media and keeping up with the Joneses. Too preoccupied with \u201cMe Time.\u201d Too precious. <\/p>\n But underneath her bravado was also something else. Hurt feelings. A sense of rejection by her daughter.<\/p>\n From Norma\u2019s perspective, she\u2019d raised three great kids. She wasn\u2019t perfect, but she thought she\u2019d been a good mom. So it was hard to see Kathryn criticize or brush off the advice she gave. Hard not to feel like she\u2019d been made obsolete. <\/p>\n \u201cI am an older person, but I do have experience to offer,\u201d she said. Parenting from her generation, she said, \u201cisn\u2019t all outdated.\u201d<\/p>\n But Kathryn, too, was hurt. She was learning how to be a parent, and needed her mom\u2019s support. \u201cIt felt like a lack of confidence. It really made me question myself.\u201d<\/p>\n She also didn\u2019t feel that her mom grasped how much things had changed.<\/p>\n We understand in 2025, for instance, that babies should sleep on their backs. That they should be introduced to potential allergens early. That they should use car seats. <\/p>\n And Kathryn\u2019s life, too, is different than Norma\u2019s. Norma raised her kids in the 90s as a stay-at-home mom. Kathryn and her husband both work full-time. And they\u2019re living in a time where expenses in their city have skyrocketed.<\/p>\n Open this photo in gallery:<\/a><\/p>\n The Toronto where Kathryn and her family live is a very different one from that of her childhood, when real estate and daily necessities were much more affordable.Chlo\u00eb Ellingson\/The Globe and Mail<\/p>\n The role of grandparents has changed as well. Life expectancy is far higher today than it was even two generations ago (from about 59 for men and 61 for women in the 1920s to about 80 for men and 84 for women). Grandparents today are healthier and wealthier than they\u2019ve ever been.<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019re rewriting their roles,\u201d said University of Alberta\u2019s Prof. Strohschein. Some want to devote all of their time to the grandkids \u2013 especially given the declining birth rate, they have fewer of them than ever before. But others, she said, don\u2019t want that burden. \u201cThey might think, \u2018I was a parent before. I don\u2019t want to be a parent again.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n It\u2019s not that things today are harder, said Kathryn. But they are different.<\/p>\n \u201cShe is a great mom,\u201d Kathryn said of Norma. \u201cBut I\u2019m not the same person. I\u2019m not living the same life.\u201d<\/p>\n Understanding those differences might just be the key to easing some of the tensions. <\/p>\n Joys Anderson, a 72-year-old from Langley, B.C., said there\u2019s a clear difference between how she raised her daughter in the 1980s, and how her daughter is now raising her granddaughter. And the difference, she said, is in values. Different goals.<\/p>\n For Ms. Anderson, who was a single mom, her focus was, above all else, on efficiency. \u201cIt was \u2018We\u2019ve got to get to daycare, we\u2019ve got to get through breakfast, gotta get your clothes on,\u2019\u201d she said. \u201cIt was all transactional stuff.\u201d<\/p>\n But with her daughter, \u201cthe goal is her daughter\u2019s mental health. Her daughter\u2019s sense of self-respect and understanding. Of knowing she has choices, and that she\u2019s safe, and that her parents love her,\u201d she said. <\/p>\n She said she doesn\u2019t see the different approach as a rejection of her own parenting. \u201cI think it\u2019s absolutely lovely.\u201d <\/p>\n Open this photo in gallery:<\/a><\/p>\n Joys Anderson in Langley approves of how her daughter has found her own strategy to raise a child.Isabella Falsetti\/The Globe and Mail<\/p>\n Over time, Norma and Kathryn have found a new dynamic. Norma is, once again, one of the people Kathryn calls on the most. They\u2019ve both learned from their arguments and experiences. Both made changes to their behaviour. <\/p>\n Kathryn has learned to loosen the reins, especially since having her second son. \u201cI realized I had to let go of some of the control I was holding.\u201d<\/p>\n And Norma has learned to let Kathryn figure things out for herself. \u201cIf I could do it all over again, I would just stand back, and only offer advice when I was asked,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd otherwise, mind my own business.\u201d<\/p>\n The boys, now ages 3 and 5, recently slept over at Norma\u2019s for the first time. Norma called ahead to run through her plans, what she would be feeding them. She was thinking of playing this movie for them, and was that okay? <\/p>\n \u201cJust like I had my journey figuring out motherhood, she had her journey figuring out how to be a grandmother,\u201d said Kathryn.<\/p>\n A cousin recently had her first baby. It was Kathryn\u2019s first lesson in what her own future might look like. For when she becomes a grandparent herself.<\/p>\n The cousin was talking to her about sleep, she said. She was worried about the baby\u2019s nap schedule. She\u2019d started using an app to track sleep.<\/p>\n \u201cI wanted so bad to be like, \u2018You don\u2019t need to do that,\u2019\u201d said Kathryn. Instead, she just smiled and nodded. <\/p>\n Open this photo in gallery:<\/a><\/p>\n Chlo\u00eb Ellingson\/The Globe and Mail<\/p>\n How we live: More from The Globe\u2019s Ann HuiThe Decibel podcast<\/p>\n Millennial women came out of the pandemic feeling more exhausted than most, facing heavy economic and family burdens. Ann Hui wrote about her own burnout<\/a> and spoke with The Decibel<\/a> about the dismal trends for her generation. Subscribe for more episodes.<\/a><\/p>\n Generations in depth<\/p>\n How the world got obsessed with naming and blaming generations<\/a><\/p>\n Why millennial parents increasingly saying \u2018no\u2019 to sleepovers<\/a><\/p>\n