7 everyday habits boomers don’t realize are pushing their adult children further away

You know that feeling when your adult child's texts get shorter and their visits less frequent?

It's a gut punch that many of us boomers experience but rarely talk about. We raised these kids, poured our hearts into them, and now it feels like they're slipping away.

The irony?

Some of our most well-intentioned behaviors might be creating the very distance we're trying to bridge.

I've been there myself. After years of wondering why my daughter seemed to bristle at my suggestions and my son stopped sharing details about his life, I had to take a hard look in the mirror. What I discovered surprised me – and it might surprise you too.

The truth is, we often don't realize how certain everyday habits can push our adult children away. These aren't malicious acts; they're patterns we've developed over decades, habits that worked when our kids were young but now create invisible barriers.

Let's explore 7 of these habits together.

1. Constantly offering unsolicited advice

Remember when your kids were little and hung on your every word of wisdom? Those days are gone, but many of us haven't gotten the memo.

I used to pride myself on being the problem-solver in my family. When my son mentioned his car was making a weird noise, I immediately launched into a detailed plan of action. When my daughter talked about work stress, I'd have five solutions ready before she finished her sentence.

But here's what I didn't realize: they weren't asking for advice. They were just sharing their lives with me. By jumping straight into fix-it mode, I was essentially telling them, "You can't handle this on your own."

The shift happened when I started asking, "Do you want my thoughts on this, or are you just venting?" Such a simple question, but it changed everything.

Now they actually ask for my advice sometimes – imagine that.

2. Being glued to your phone during visits

We give millennials grief about their screen time, but have you looked at your own habits lately?

Last Thanksgiving, my daughter called me out. "Mom, you've checked your phone three times since I started telling you about my promotion."

Ouch. She was right. I was scrolling through Facebook while she was trying to connect with me.

As Healthline reports, 32% of people are phubbed two to three times a day. That's phone-snubbing, and yes, we boomers are guilty too.

Whether it's checking the news, responding to texts from friends, or getting lost in social media, our devices can create walls between us and our kids.

The message we send when we prioritize our phones? "This notification is more important than you are right now."

No wonder they stop sharing the important stuff. Now I put my phone in another room during visits. The world can wait – my kids can't.

3. Comparing them to others

"Did you hear Sarah's daughter just bought a house?" or "Tom's son got promoted to VP last month."

I didn't think these casual observations were harmful until my son finally snapped. "Mom, I'm not Tom's son. I'm me." The hurt in his voice stopped me cold.

We might think we're just making conversation, but to our adult children, these comparisons feel like judgment. They hear, "You're not measuring up." Even when we genuinely mean it as small talk, it lands as criticism.

I've learned that every time I bring up someone else's achievements, I'm inadvertently diminishing my children's journey. They're navigating a world that's drastically different from the one we grew up in – comparing their path to anyone else's is like comparing apples to smartphones.

Now when friends brag about their kids' accomplishments, I smile and change the subject. My children's worth isn't measured by anyone else's yardstick.

4. Dismissing their struggles as "not real problems"

"You think that's hard? Try raising three kids on one income with no internet to help!"

I cringe remembering how often I said variations of this. When my daughter mentioned her anxiety about climate change, I'd wave it off. When my son talked about work-life balance struggles, I'd launch into stories about working 60-hour weeks without complaining.

Here's what I've learned: pain is pain. Stress is stress. Their challenges are real to them, even if they look different from ours. By constantly one-upping their struggles with our "harder" experiences, we're essentially saying their feelings don't matter.

The world they're navigating – with its gig economy, social media pressures, and sky-high housing costs – comes with its own unique challenges. Different doesn't mean easier.

Now when they share their struggles, I simply listen. No comparisons, no "back in my day" stories. Just validation that what they're going through is tough.

5. Guilt-tripping about visit frequency

"I guess I'll just sit here alone again this weekend."

Sound familiar?

I used to be the queen of guilt trips. Every phone call ended with a subtle (or not so subtle) reminder about how long it had been since their last visit. I'd mention how Mrs. Henderson's kids visit every Sunday, or how I might not be around forever.

What I didn't realize was that guilt is relationship poison. Instead of making them want to visit, I was making every interaction feel like an obligation. Who wants to spend time with someone who makes them feel terrible about their choices?

The turning point came when my daughter tearfully told me she'd started dreading our calls. That wasn't the relationship I wanted with my kids.

Now I focus on making our time together enjoyable rather than mandatory. Quality over quantity. And you know what? They actually visit more often now that it doesn't come with a side of guilt.

6. Refusing to apologize or admit mistakes

For decades, we were the authority figures. We made the rules, we knew best, and apologies flowed one direction – from them to us.

But adult relationships require something different. Elizabeth Scott, PhD notes that "A sincere and effective apology is one that communicates genuine empathy, remorse, and regret as well as a promise to learn from your mistakes".

I remember the first time I genuinely apologized to my adult son for overstepping a boundary. The shock on his face quickly melted into something else – respect.

By acknowledging my mistake, I wasn't losing authority — I was gaining credibility as someone who could grow and change.

Refusing to apologize or admit when we're wrong sends the message that we value being right over having a relationship. That's a lonely hill to die on.

7. Avoiding emotional vulnerability

We boomers were raised to be tough. Keep a stiff upper lip.

Don't air dirty laundry. These survival mechanisms served us well in many ways, but they can create walls between us and our children.

When my kids tried to connect with me emotionally – asking about my fears, my regrets, my dreams – I'd deflect with humor or change the subject. I thought I was being strong. Instead, I was being distant.

As renowned researcher and author Brené Brown puts it, "Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path".

Final thoughts

Sharing our authentic selves – including our struggles and imperfections – doesn't diminish us in our children's eyes. It humanizes us.

It creates the foundation for adult-to-adult relationships built on mutual understanding rather than outdated hierarchies.

Reading Rudá Iandê's new book "Laughing in the Face of Chaos" recently gave me a perspective shift that applies perfectly here. He writes that "Their happiness is their responsibility, not yours."

This insight helped me realize that my attempts to manage my adult children's lives – through advice, comparisons, or guilt – came from a misplaced sense of responsibility for their happiness.

The book inspired me to see that letting go doesn't mean caring less.

It means caring differently. It means trusting the humans we raised to navigate their own paths while we work on becoming the kind of parents they actually want to spend time with.

Breaking these habits isn't easy. I still catch myself mid-sentence sometimes, about to launch into fix-it mode or mention how someone else's kid is doing. But each time I stop myself, each time I choose connection over correction, the distance shrinks a little.

The question is: are we brave enough to change?