How to be a 90s parent in 2025

The answer: I have no idea!

I still have a baby monitor in my six-year-old’s room. You read that right. He has night terrors, and I need to know if he’s screaming because he’s reenacting Jurassic Park, or if he’s walked straight off the edge of his bed in his sleep which, yes, has happened. I turn it off at 9:30pm when peak night terror hour has passed, so please don’t judge me. Or do, but quietly.

What’s wild is that I grew up roaming the bushland behind our house until it got dark. We made horror movies with our family video camera and the kitchen butcher knife (not sure my mum would have allowed that had she known). We rode our bikes around the neighborhood for hours, and played unsupervised until someone eventually shouted, 'Dinner!'" We didn’t have screens, or schedules. We had freedom, boredom, scraped knees, and that eerie thrill of figuring life out by doing stuff we weren’t quite supposed to do. Our holidays were spent camping, exploring rock pools and beachside caves, and getting dragged behind a zodiac by our older cousins in what was definitely shark-infested water. There were more trips to the ER than my mum would have liked, but I guess that was just part of being a kid at the time.

It was glorious.

And I find myself desperately wanting to give that to my kids. I also find myself wanting to wrap them in bubble wrap, and watch them via surveillance drone at all times.

That’s the push-pull I live in every single day.

On one hand, I want to be a “let-them-climb” parent. The kind who says things like, “Do you feel safe up there?” instead of “Get down right now before you break your neck!”. I try to let them order their own food at restaurants, go to the bathroom alone, walk a few houses down without me shadowing them like a Secret Service agent. I believe in those moments. They build confidence, autonomy, and the ability to navigate the real world.

On the other hand, I am watching them. I’m always watching them. And it’s not just out of fear of injury or abduction. It’s the fear of being perceived as a “bad parent.” We live in an era where one photo, one moment, one decision can be weaponized by strangers on the internet. I’ve seen parents criticized, called out, even reported for giving their kids space to grow. It’s a hard balance. I haven’t gotten it right yet. I don’t know if anyone has.

Sometimes I fantasize about a guidebook. How to Parent Like It’s the 90s in a 2025 World. I’m begging someone with the answers to write it. In the meantime, I’m trying to live somewhere in the middle. Let them climb. Let them fall (just a little). Let them be bored. Let them figure it out. Let them feel safe, not just because I’m watching, but because they trust themselves.

And maybe one day, I’ll even unplug the monitor.

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