WHEN YOUR BIG KID SHARES TOO MUCH…OR NOT ENOUGH—PARENTING TEENS AND FINDING PEACE ON THE ROAD TO THE EMPTY NEST | EP. 201
Welcome to the Almost Empty Nest Podcast, where we moms of teens and college kids reframe what letting go really means to feel more connected, confident, and at peace. I'm your host, Master Coach Jennifer Collins.
Have you ever had one of those moments where your teen tells you everything, and you're not even sure you wanted to know? Or maybe it's the opposite, they barely tell you anything, and so you're left wondering if something's wrong, or if somehow you've lost the connection you used to have. We all want that open, trusting relationship with our kids. But as they grow up, it gets trickier to know what the right amount of sharing even is.
My hope with this episode is to hold space for both sides. For the mom who wishes she had more connection with her kid, and the one who sometimes wished she had a little less. And let's talk honestly about what all of this brings up for us.
Because no matter where you fall on that spectrum, there's a lot to unpack about what it really means to feel close to our kids, and maybe most importantly, how to find peace and how they choose to connect back with us. Let's dive in.
Hello, my friend.
Yesterday, I was talking to one of my long-time clients, who has the kind of relationship with her kids where they tell her everything. Now, if you're listening to this and thinking, well, that must be nice, I hear you. I can remember sitting at a dinner once where another mom was talking about how her teen daughter tells her everything, and she seemed so happy about it.
But then I could see my own brain spinning. Not necessarily in a jealous way exactly, but more in that curious way, like, did I do something wrong? Why don't my boys open up to me like that? It's funny how quickly we go there, right? How quickly our minds start to measure our relationships against someone else's. But that comparison is tricky because we think we're just observing the facts of life.
But really, this is just a story we tell ourselves about what we think closeness should look like. It's so easy to assume that if you have a kid who shares a lot, it's a sign of a stronger, healthier relationship. That if your kid talked to you more, things would somehow be better.
But I actually don't think it's that simple. The truth is, every kid is different. Some are verbal processors that make sense of their lives by talking things out or sharing every detail.
And others process internally. They think things through before or even instead of talking about it. And that difference, believe it or not, has very little to do with us as parents.
It's part temperament, part personality, really just how our kids are wired. In my house, one of my boys is generally a talkative and introspective person. He likes to process his feelings out loud, with me or more often now with other people.
And I could see this in him growing up, in the way he would lock in and tell me everything that he was thinking and feeling. My other son doesn't share as much. He's generally a pretty even-keeled and I'd say pretty happy kid.
But what I've come to understand about him is that there is a lot going on under the surface. From those moments that are sometimes few and far between that he has opened up to me, he's shown me so much depth that makes it clear that he's processing so much in his own mind. He just prefers not to share it with me on a regular basis.
So here I am, two boys, same mom, but both of them have totally different ways of being and communicating. From this perspective, and this is actually backed by research, a kid who opens up all of the time isn't necessarily doing something right. And a kid who's quieter or more private isn't necessarily doing something wrong.
Neither one is inherently better or worse. They're just different. That said, I think most of us, especially as moms, have feelings about the way our kids communicate.
I mean, we can't help but compare our kids and the relationship we think we have with them with other families. Maybe you hear another mom say, my daughter tells me everything. And your mind immediately goes straight to, why doesn't my kid do that? Or maybe your kid shares so much that it sometimes feels like emotional overload.
And you find yourself thinking, I love that they trust me, but I don't know what to do with all of this information. I think what makes this topic so complicated is that we love our kids, and so much of our identity has been built around knowing our kids, being in touch with their moods, being in charge of their routines and their needs. So when they start to communicate less, it can feel like a loss, not just of information, but of intimacy.
And when they do talk, it can feel like getting a little piece of that closeness back. Interestingly, with my boys, I've really experienced both sides of the equation, the times when they open up and the times when they don't. As I said, when my oldest was younger, he shared a lot.
There were some days where he would talk and talk. And when he did, I felt like I had this incredible window into his inner world. Those moments of connection were such a gift.
But I'll also say that there were plenty of times that he shared things with me that made me worry about him more, because now I had data to sort through, and it was hard not to get caught up in the worry of it. But there have also been times when both of my boys have pulled away, keeping much more to themselves. And then I've had to sit with that discomfort.
It can be hard not to take it personally, not to wonder what's going on or if something's wrong. And that's the other side of this experience. When we don't have access to what they're thinking or feeling, our minds start to fill in the blanks.
Both of these experiences can feel uncomfortable in their own way. When they're open, it can bring us joy, but it can also be overwhelming. We feel pulled into their pain and can even start to create more pain for ourselves when we feel worried or frustrated about what we hear.
But then when they're quiet, we're left guessing, also worrying and frustrated, wishing for more. So I guess the question is, is there really a better way for our kids to communicate? I wanted to have this conversation today because I've spent a lot of time on this podcast talking to the mom who wishes her kid would open up, the mom who feels a little shut out or disconnected. But with this episode, I also want to speak to the mom whose kid does share a lot.
Because let's be honest, that comes with its own challenges. It's easy to think that more communication automatically means more connection. But that's not always the case.
When you're the parent who hears everything, it can be wonderful, yes, but it can also be emotionally exhausting. You suddenly have this flood of information and you care so much that it can be hard to know what to do with all of it. You start to feel responsible for what you've heard or you carry the weight of it in ways that you might not even realize.
You know, I think one of the trickiest parts of this whole topic is what happens inside of us when our kids do or don't open up. When our kid shares something, especially something meaningful or hard, it can actually feel incredibly validating. It's like this voice inside your head says, okay, I must be doing something right.
They trust me, they feel safe with me. It can give you the sense that you're connected, that you're close. And that makes sense, right? Because so much of being a mom is about wanting connection.
We want to feel close to our kids, to know what's going on in their lives. So when they let us in, it feels like proof that the bond is strong. But if I'm being really honest, sometimes I catch myself chasing that feeling, that little moment when one of my boys opens up and I can feel that closeness.
It's so human, my friend, to look for proof that you still matter, that you're still needed. What I've come to realize is that our reaction to these moments truly comes from the meaning we attach to them. When our kids talk to us, it feels like a sign of closeness.
And it really can be. But even when your kid is quieter, that doesn't automatically mean something's wrong or that they don't feel close to you. It might just look or sound different from what you want.
And maybe both things can be true, that our kids' openness does show trust and closeness and that silence doesn't take it away. It's worth getting curious here because maybe connection isn't measured only by words. It's so easy to fall into that trap, to use the amount of communication we get as a kind of emotional measuring stick.
When we don't get enough, we start to worry that maybe we're not as close as we thought. And then when they talk, we can feel like, okay, good. I can relax.
And I'll be honest, I've felt that little dopamine hit too. When one of my boys comes to me in a vulnerable moment, something lights up inside of me. I get this rush of, yes, this is what I'm here for.
This is my job. This is the Super Bowl of motherhood. And of course, I don't enjoy seeing them in pain, but being the person that they turn to, it means everything to me.
And that feeling is real and it's beautiful, but it's also worth noticing because it reminds us how much of our parenting experience is shaped not just by what our kids do, but by how we interpret it. So whether your kid talks nonstop or gives you one word answers, it's powerful to take a step back and ask, what story am I telling myself about what this means? Because so often the story we create says more about us and what we want or fear than it does about them or our relationship with them. So let's talk more about the mom whose big kid shares a lot.
I think it's definitely true that when this happens, you as a mom have access to so much more of your kid's inner world. You have a front row seat into the heartbreaks and the friendship drama and their fears and their moments of self-doubt. You have this glimpse into how much emotional pain your kid is carrying.
And then it can often feel like you automatically start holding this emotional pain too. I think that's one of the downsides of being the mom who does hear a lot because you become the keeper of all that information. And because we love our kids so much, it's hard not to absorb it.
We start to think about their problems when they're at school or replay conversations in our heads, wondering how we can help. A few years ago, I was visiting one of my longtime friends out in California. Her daughter was in high school at the time and we went to pick her up from school.
The second her daughter got in the car, she started talking about her day and her friends and her teachers. She talked about what she had for lunch, in incredible detail, by the way. I just sat there with my jaw on the floor, listening to this deluge of words pouring out of this beautiful young woman's mouth.
And my friend was completely engaged. She was asking follow-up questions and remembering names of friends and knowing who had a test win and what teacher said what. She was totally in it.
And I remember thinking, wow, this is a totally different world. I was sitting in that car hearing my friend's daughter, and she was so joyful and energetic in that moment. But it was also a lot.
I remember sitting there half in awe and half exhausted for my friend, thinking how wonderful and also how overwhelming it must be at the same time. There was such a beauty in their connection, but also such intensity. And as I listened, I had this moment of gratitude for my own quieter car rides with my boys, not because one was better than the other, but because it reminded me that every family's rhythm is different and every relationship has its own texture.
When my boys were in high school, if I asked about their day, I would typically get a fine. If I was really lucky, I'd get a, that test was hard. So sitting in that car and hearing this stream of conversation between my friend and her daughter, it was fascinating and honestly a little mind-blowing.
It's so easy to assume that this kind of openness is better. But what I saw that day was more complicated than that. Because while it was clear that my friend was absolutely loving every minute of her conversation with her daughter, in my mind, all I could think was how much mental and emotional energy it must take to hold all of that information, to be able to follow every detail and maybe even more, to be able to manage your own reactions to that information, to be able to decide when to offer advice or ask more questions and when to just listen.
And I've seen the same dynamic with my clients who have very talkative kids. They love that their kids share so much, but you can also at times feel entangled in your kids' lives and emotions. When you know everything your big kid is feeling or actually when you think you know what they're thinking and feeling, it can be hard to separate your kid's experience from yours.
You start to feel even more responsible not just for guiding them, but for making sure they feel okay. And I've felt that so many times myself, and I wouldn't exactly say my boys tell me everything. In fact, far from it.
But there have been those times when one of my boys has opened up to me about something really hard. In those moments, you can see their pain, but even more, you feel their pain or really you feel your pain at the sight of theirs. And it's heavy.
When this happens, I always feel grateful that they're talking to me, but afterwards, I often notice how my brain doesn't want to let it go. In fact, I'll think about it over and over again, replaying those conversations and wondering how they're feeling now, whether it's better, whether I should bring it up again. It's like part of me can't rest until I have proof that they're really okay.
And maybe you've been there too, where you want to check in again and follow up, do something to fix the situation. You want to keep the conversation going because you care, but also because you feel like your peace of mind is tied to them being okay. It's such a natural instinct, but it's also what makes parenting older kids and teens so complicated.
When they were little, we could swoop in and solve the problem. But now when what they're struggling with is emotional, when it's friendship drama or anxiety or heartbreak, feeling overwhelmed or unsuccessful, feeling lost. When this happens, there's often nothing tangible for us to fix.
We just have to hold space. And that is so hard. We have to face that uncertainty and powerlessness.
When we know our kid is struggling, but we can't fix it, it's one of the hardest parts of being a mom because it's in our DNA to help and protect our kids from pain. Just sitting with that uncertainty and powerlessness can feel kind of terrible. It triggers every part of us that just wants our kids to be okay.
And it can feel really hard to trust that they're capable of handling what they're facing, but also to face the reality that we can't control or at least try to influence the outcome. Because when your big kid gives you information, especially difficult information or a window into their pain, it's like your brain locks onto it and you feel responsible. Like, how can I not be doing something to fix this? But here's something else to consider.
I think sometimes we also know too much. Have you ever had that experience where your kid shares something or you come across something, like a note or a condom or just something you weren't meant to see? And a big part of you thinks, I wish I didn't know that. And it's not because you don't love your kid or that you can't handle the information, but it's more that once you know, you can't unknow it.
I think about how different it was when we were growing up. Our parents didn't have Live 360. They couldn't track us or see our text threads or what we posted on social media.
And maybe in some ways that was a gift for them and for us because we had a certain degree of freedom and privacy to figure things out without our parents having so much information about us. So it makes me wonder sometimes, are we meant to know everything? Is it even helpful? Because the truth is, having all that information doesn't always make us feel closer or safer. In fact, sometimes it just makes us more anxious, more desperate to help when what our kids might really need is space.
And that's really the heart of it, isn't it? This illusion that if we just know enough, we can somehow protect our kids from mistakes or from pain or from the uncertainty of life. But information isn't the same thing as control. We can know everything and still be absolutely helpless.
Here's a story that illustrates this. My son was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes when he was three years old. So for a long time, as you can imagine, I was in charge of his medical care.
I checked his blood sugar regularly and eventually I was able to see his glucose readings on my phone, updated in real time. In fact, I got alerts on my phone anytime his blood sugar was too high or too low. And in many ways, having this information made me feel safer because it gave me the feeling that I could keep my son from danger.
And in many ways, I actually feel like that was true when he was growing up. But then when he went to college, he told me he didn't feel like he needed to share his data with me anymore. And I'll be honest, my first reaction was like, no, no, that's not good.
Like, without that information, how can I know that he's okay? But the truth is, even with the information, what am I going to do about it? He's six hours away. It's not like I can just walk into the room and wake him up and get him to drink some ginger ale. And the truth is, he's been managing his own diabetes care for quite some time.
He doesn't actually need my help. But for me, what I felt like I needed was reassurance. Having the information made me feel better.
I wanted to know he was safe, that he was taking care of himself. But even with the information, I don't have control. In fact, sometimes the readings are false.
And so I can go into a false spin of anxiety when there's an alert just because his sensor fell off. Now, all of a sudden, I'm thinking his blood sugar is low when really he's just having a device malfunction. The bottom line is, we don't have control in the way that we used to anymore.
Even when it comes to mental or emotional challenges that feel really big, you get to a point with your kid where you don't actually have control. Even when you have information. And so you're left grappling with the reality that you need to learn to trust.
And that can feel like a big leap at times because the downsides can feel unacceptable. I think that's what so much of parenting older kids comes down to. This constant pull between holding on and letting go.
We think our peace comes from them being okay. But the hard reality of life is that the way they're going to learn to be okay is through their own struggle. From them figuring things out in their own way.
When I step back and look at all of it with my boys, those times when they pulled away and said nothing. And those moments when they couldn't stop talking. The things I wish I didn't know.
And the things I wish I could ask. I realized that none of it actually defines how close I am to my kids. Connection isn't about how much they share.
It's about how I show up as a mom when they open up and when they don't. I get to decide to be that safe place. The person that they can always come to no matter what.
The hardest part about that for me, for all of us moms, is meeting our kids where they are. Not where we wish they'd be. Sometimes that means listening without trying to fix.
Sometimes it means letting it go when they don't want to talk. And sometimes it just means trusting that silence doesn't mean disconnection. And openness doesn't mean they're asking for help.
There's a kind of peace that comes when you stop using their words or their moods as a mirror for your own worth or the strength of your connection. Our kids are having their own messy, beautiful, complicated experience of life. And we have a front row seat.
Sometimes it feels like a James Joyce novel with a constant, endless stream of thoughts and emotions. Other times, it's more like a silent film. Quiet, without words, communicating through gestures and facial expressions.
Either way, your role as a mom doesn't have to change. Because at the end of the day, what is our role now? Being the one that fixes and protects? Or being a steady presence who loves and listens and gets to sit in all of your big kid's story unfolding? And that's not to say that there aren't still times when they need us to swoop in and help. I'm not saying helping is wrong.
But when we pause before jumping in, when we check whether our help comes from calm confidence rather than fear or urgency, we give our kids space to build their own resilience. Sometimes the most powerful kind of help we can give is simply believing our kids are capable, trusting that they can handle this chapter of their lives even if it's messy. So wherever you are right now, my friend, whether your teen is telling you everything or barely saying a word, I hope you can give yourself a little grace.
Because the truth is, there is no perfect version of this. There's just you showing up the best way you can, loving your kid in the way that you know how, but also learning over and over and over again to trust the process. You don't have to know everything to be a good mom, and you don't have to fix every problem to make a difference in your kid's life.
Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do is just stay steady to be the safe, calm space that they can return to if and when they need us. And if this conversation is resonating with you and you'd like to find a way to feel more at peace, no matter how much or how little your big kid shares with you, this is the work we do in my Mom 2.0 coaching program. Together we explore what's going on inside of you as you navigate where to hold on and when to let go.
My friend, you have the power within you to create peace, connection, and confidence no matter what your teen is doing or going through. And in my program, I'll show you how to tap into it. You can learn more about Mom 2.0 in the show notes.
Whether your teen tells you everything or keeps most of it to themselves, you're still doing it right. You don't need every detail of your kid's life to feel connected to them. And you don't have to have all the answers or jump in to fix it when they pour their heart out to you.
What matters most is the energy and the love and the intention you bring to the relationship. And what if you didn't need to fix their experience or fix them to feel better? Until next time.
If you enjoyed this episode, I'd love for you to check out my next free masterclass. There's a link in the show notes. You have more power than you think, my friend.
