From Aprons to Algorithms: How Parenthood Has Changed and What Still Matters

Emily Clark
May 31
7 min read

It hit me the other night after tubby time.

I was crouched on the bathroom floor, soaking wet, trying to negotiate with a three-year-old over which pajama top was less “scratchy,” while simultaneously convincing another child that, no, we cannot put Cookie, the bearded dragon, in the bathtub. And somewhere in the chaos of soggy towels, slippery feet, and toothbrush battles, I had this flash of a thought:

How did our moms do this? How did their moms do this?

And maybe more importantly… how did it all evolve into what we’re doing now?

Parenthood today feels like a full-blown contact sport, equal parts endurance test, emotional rollercoaster, and very weird science experiment (looking at you, slime-making phase of 2022). But as I dried tiny toes and double-checked school folders, I realized that while so much has changed, some parts of parenting, the most essential ones, have stayed the same.

And if we’re being honest, most of what we know about being a parent wasn’t learned from a book or a blog post, it was learned by watching. Although, What to Expect When You're Expecting was my bible 20 years ago during my first pregnancy.

How Parenting Has Changed Through the Decades

1950s–60s: The Traditional Era

This was the era of clearly defined roles. Dad went to work, Mom stayed home, and the idea of "parenting" as we understand it today didn't really exist—at least not publicly. Parenting was deeply private and community-based. You leaned on your neighbors for advice, on your church or local clubs for socialization, and you never admitted to struggling.

Moms were expected to maintain spotless homes, raise polite children, and serve three meals a day—all while wearing a dress and smiling. They ran the household like CEOs, except with zero pay, no PTO, and little recognition. Mental health? Not discussed. Burnout? Not a term. And dads? They were praised for showing up to a school play or changing a diaper once.

1970s–80s: The Rise of the Working Mom

Cue the feminist wave. Women were entering the workforce in record numbers, not just because they wanted to, but because they had to. Economic shifts, rising divorce rates, and inflation made dual-income households more common and often necessary. But the infrastructure to support working moms? Practically nonexistent.

This was the era of microwave dinners, latchkey kids, and after-school specials. Many children came home to empty houses and figured out snacks and homework on their own. Moms were expected to juggle it all, career, kids, home, without complaint. No therapy. No flexible work schedules. No “self-care” narrative.

Shoulder pads got broader, pantyhose endured, and moms powered through while rarely being asked if they were okay. They weren’t seeking applause, they were just trying to keep everything from falling apart.

The narrative of "having it all" was born, but it was more marketing slogan than reality. And behind that slogan were women burning out in silence.

1990s–2000s: Supermom Culture

The 90s and early 2000s ushered in the age of the multitasking, high-achieving "Supermom." We had cell phones clipped to our belts, carpool lines that doubled as conference call zones, and snack duties that required artisanal-level creativity. Parenting books exploded onto the market, sleep training methods, discipline strategies, attachment theories, and with them came a growing sense that if you didn’t do it by the book, you were failing.

Dads were more present, showing up at games, packing lunches, but even with this progress, the mental load still disproportionately fell to moms. Now we weren’t just keeping everyone alive, we were expected to be emotionally available, Pinterest-perfect, and thin while doing it. Enter: the mommy makeover era, the low-rise jean diet culture, and the emergence of the “do it all” narrative.

This was also the era where helicopter parenting took off, hovering over homework, college prep, and friend dynamics. We were parenting with purpose, but also with fear, fear of missing something, of doing too little, of falling behind. The pressure to be everything to everyone intensified, and so did the burnout.

2010s–Today: The Age of Hyper-Parenting

We’re in the trenches of Instagram parenting. Gentle parenting, free-range parenting, no sugar, all organic, full-time working, emotionally regulated, screen-time aware, non-toxic everything. Exhausted just reading that? Same.

Modern parenting feels like a full-time job layered on top of whatever full-time job you already have. Moms and dads are expected to attend every milestone, reply to every school email within five minutes, bring eco-friendly snacks to the class party, and keep a spotless house that looks good on social media—all while launching a side hustle just to help cover the cost of childcare, which, by the way, now rivals college tuition. And if you’re in the same boat as me, paying for daycare and college at the same time? Let’s just say that 16-year age gap between our oldest and youngest looked a lot better on paper.

Add in algorithm anxiety and online mom groups that can feel more like battlegrounds than support systems, and the emotional pressure multiplies. Parenting advice is everywhere, but it’s often conflicting—and worse, it’s performative. We compare ourselves not just to the moms next door, but to influencers with professional photographers and nannies behind the scenes.

Today’s parents are expected to be emotionally fluent, physically healthy, socially conscious, financially savvy, and always available. And yet, with all these advancements, many of us feel lonelier, more insecure, and more overstimulated than ever before. It’s a paradox: the more connected we are, the harder it can be to feel like we’re doing enough.

What Hasn’t Changed?

Somehow, despite the era, the fashion trends, and whether your kid watched Mr. Rogers or Ms. Rachel, a few things have stayed the same:

The love.
The guilt.
The endless decision fatigue.
The desire to raise good humans in a complicated world.

And if you’re lucky like me, you’ve got someone in your corner who’s been there.

For me, that’s my mom. She’s been my lifeline in motherhood—from my first panicked call as a new mom asking, “Is this normal?” to my late-night texts now when I’ve tried everything in my arsenal to soothe a broken heart or a stubborn fever. She’s the one I go to when I need someone to tell me I’m doing enough, especially on the days I don’t feel it. Her wisdom doesn’t come from parenting books, it comes from experience, and often, from her own mother. That’s where I see it most clearly: generational motherhood passed down not in lectures, but in quiet reassurances, practical advice, and deep, unwavering love.

I think we learn more than we realize through osmosis in childhood.The way we speak to our kids.The instinct to touch a forehead to check for fever.The comfort of a late-night “You’re okay, sweetheart” whispered through the dark.

It’s in us, baked into our bones, passed down through quiet gestures and sleepless nights. We take what worked, leave what didn’t, and build something new.Parenting evolves, but the foundation is often laid before we even realize we’re paying attention.

But not everyone grew up with that kind of model.

Some of us didn’t grow up with gentle words or safe spaces. Some of us were taught through tension, silence, or survival. We learned what not to do, not because someone showed us, but because someone didn’t. Those scars, the ones from harsh voices, emotional distance, or chaos, don’t disappear. But what does happen, through love and effort, is healing. It takes immense courage, unimaginable strength, to break those generational cycles and choose a different way forward.

To the cycle-breakers out there: I see you.

You are rewriting a story that should’ve been written for you and doing it in real-time, with little ones watching. That is powerful. That is healing. That is love in its bravest form.

The New Pressure: Social Media, Comparison, and Burnout

Let’s just say it: social media is a beautiful, terrible thing.

We scroll past color-coordinated family photos, elaborate birthday parties with themes and balloon arches, and home-packed lunches shaped like zoo animals. And somehow, even when we know it's curated, we still wonder: Am I enough?

We’re parenting in the spotlight, constantly aware of what others might think. And whether you work full time, part time, or stay at home, there’s this impossible standard of doing it all, and doing it gracefully.

Add in the mental load of keeping everyone’s lives functioning, (doctor appointments, permission slips, emotional check-ins, birthday gifts, and remembering who hates socks that feel "too socky") it’s no wonder burnout is our generation’s common cold.

When I’m overwhelmed, I still call my mom. I don’t need her to fix it, I just need to hear her say, “You’re doing great.” And isn’t that what we all want? Someone to reassure us that we’re not screwing it up?

Let’s Talk About Dads, Too

To the modern dads out there: we see you.

You’ve evolved. Today’s dads are changing diapers, attending school plays, staying home during paternity leave, and challenging outdated ideas of masculinity and caregiving. That matters.

But let’s be honest: society still tends to give a standing ovation for “involved dads,” while working moms are expected to juggle flaming swords with one hand and smile for the yearbook photo with the other.

The dads I know aren’t “helping.” They’re parenting. They’re showing up for their kids just like we are. Many of them are building a new template too, one they didn’t always see modeled growing up. That’s generational growth. That’s love in action.

So… Are We Doing Better?

We have more resources than ever. We’re more emotionally intelligent, more inclusive, and more aware of what our kids need, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally.

But we’re also more exhausted, more overstimulated, and more afraid of messing it up. We carry the weight of generational expectations, filtered Instagram lives, and internalized guilt that no mother’s ever quite been able to shake.

So maybe the goal isn’t to be better than the generation before us. Maybe it’s to be more human. More present. More compassionate, with our kids and ourselves.

We don’t have to do it like our parents did but we can honor the best of what they gave us. And if you’re the one doing this parenting thing without that lifeline, your mom, your dad, or someone to call in your toughest moments, just know this: you are building something beautiful from scratch. And that is no small thing.