The reason boomers and their adult children keep clashing over parenting has nothing to do with right or wrong — it's two generations who were taught completely opposite definitions of love

Picture this: You're visiting your parents with your kids, and within minutes, your mom is slipping them candy before dinner while your dad questions why you're "making such a big deal" about screen time limits. Sound familiar?

Or maybe you've experienced the reverse.

Your adult child tells you they're putting their toddler in therapy for "big feelings," and you can't help but wonder when parenting became so complicated.

Whatever happened to "because I said so"?

Here's what I've come to understand after years of navigating this exact tension with my own parents: We're not actually arguing about parenting techniques.

We're bumping up against two completely different languages of love.

1) The safety generation versus the feelings generation

My parents grew up in a world where love meant keeping your children safe and setting them up for success.

Food on the table, roof overhead, good grades, stable job.

These weren't just priorities; they were the entire blueprint for caring.

When I tell my mother I left my stable finance career to become a writer, she still winces.

To this day, she introduces me as "my daughter who worked in finance" before reluctantly adding "who writes now."

It used to frustrate me until I realized something crucial: In her language of love, financial security equals care.

When she questions my career change, she's not dismissing my happiness.

She's saying "I love you" in the only dialect she knows.

Our generation? We learned a different vocabulary entirely.

Love means emotional attunement, validation, helping our kids process feelings, and prioritizing mental health.

We read parenting books about attachment styles and worry about our children's inner worlds as much as their report cards.

Neither approach is wrong.

They're just speaking different languages.

2) When "I'm fine" was the only acceptable answer

Growing up, emotions in my house were treated like that fancy china you only brought out for special occasions.

And by special occasions, I mean never.

If you were sad, you went to your room until you felt better.

Angry? Take a walk.

Anxious about a test? Study harder.

The solution to feelings was to not have them, or at least not show them.

My parents weren't being cruel.

They were loving me the way they'd been loved, with a firm belief that dwelling on emotions was self-indulgent.

Strength meant pushing through.

Success meant not letting feelings get in your way.

When I finally had honest conversations with my parents about mental health, breaking what felt like generations of silence, my mom's first response was, "But we gave you everything you needed."

And she had, in her definition of "everything."

Three meals a day, education, a safe neighborhood.

The idea that I might have needed someone to ask "How are you feeling?" and actually wait for a real answer?

That wasn't even on the radar.

3) The achievement trap that divides us

I was labeled "gifted" in elementary school.

For boomer parents, this was like winning the lottery.

It meant I was on track for the kind of success they'd dreamed of providing.

What they couldn't see was the weight of that label.

Every good grade became an expectation, not an achievement.

Every struggle felt like failure.

I developed people-pleasing tendencies that took years to unwork, always trying to be the "gifted" daughter who never disappointed anyone.

Now when I see my generation of parents celebrating effort over outcomes, telling kids "it's okay to fail," my parents' generation often sees this as lowering standards.

"Participation trophies," they mutter, shaking their heads.

But we're not lowering standards.

We're trying to raise humans who don't tie their entire worth to their achievements.

We saw what that did to us.

4) Control versus connection

Boomer parenting operated on a clear hierarchy.

Parents were the authorities, children were the subjects.

"Because I said so" was a complete explanation.

Questioning authority wasn't just discouraged; it was disrespectful.

This made sense in their world.

They were preparing us for workplaces with rigid hierarchies, where you did what the boss said without question.

They were teaching us to survive in their reality.

Our generation parents differently because our reality changed.

We explain our decisions to our kids.

We validate their feelings even when we hold boundaries.

We say things like "I understand you're frustrated, and you still need to brush your teeth."

When grandparents see this, they often interpret it as weakness.

"You're letting a three-year-old run your house!"

But we're not giving up authority.

We're building connection alongside it, because we've learned that children who feel heard become adults who can advocate for themselves.

5) The independence paradox

Here's something that really bakes my noodle: Boomer parents simultaneously want us to be completely independent while also following their exact blueprint for life.

They raised us to be self-sufficient, to not need anyone, to figure things out ourselves.

Then they get hurt when we don't call enough, don't visit enough, or make life choices without their input.

The very independence they instilled becomes the thing that distances us.

Meanwhile, we're raising kids with an emphasis on interdependence.

We teach them it's okay to need help, to have big feelings, to lean on their support systems.

We're trying to raise kids who won't feel guilty for going to therapy or asking for what they need.

Our parents see this as creating dependence.

We see it as creating connection.

6) Bridging the divide without losing ourselves

So how do we move forward when these two languages of love keep creating misunderstandings?

First, recognize that your parents probably aren't criticizing your parenting to hurt you.

They're often genuinely confused by approaches that seem to contradict everything they believed good parenting meant.

When my dad questions why I explain consequences to my kids instead of just enforcing them, he's not saying I'm weak.

He literally doesn't understand the purpose.

Second, you can honor their experience without adopting their methods.

I thank my parents for providing stability and safety.

That was their love language, and it kept me fed, housed, and educated.

I can be grateful for that while still choosing to add emotional attunement to my own parenting toolkit.

Third, set boundaries with compassion.

You might need to say, "I know you showed love by making sure I was safe and successful, and I'm grateful for that. I'm showing love to my kids by also helping them understand their emotions. Both ways come from love."

Final thoughts

The clash between boomer grandparents and their adult children over parenting isn't really about who's right or wrong.

It's about two generations who were given completely different instruction manuals for showing love.

They built fortresses to keep their children safe.

We're building bridges to keep ours connected.

They minimized feelings to maximize success.

We're embracing feelings to redefine what success means.

Neither generation is wrong.

We're all just trying to love our kids the best way we know how, with the tools we were given and the lessons we've learned.

Maybe the real growth happens when we stop trying to prove whose way is right and start recognizing that love has always had multiple languages.

The lucky kids? They get to be fluent in both.