LETTING GO OF THE INVISIBLE CONTRACTS THAT MAKE PARENTING TEENS AND ADULT KIDS SO HARD | EP. 285
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 found yourself way more upset than you think you should be because your big kid didn't text you back, they left a mess in the kitchen, they blew off something important, or they barely looked up from their phone when you were talking? Sometimes, it's actually not the behavior that hurts the most. It's the invisible expectation underneath it. In this episode, I'm going to show you how these unspoken contracts shape the way you feel about your relationship with your kid, their future, and even yourself as a mom.
And by the end, you'll know how to spot the expectations creating the most resentment and disappointment, you'll understand why they carry so much emotional weight, and you'll start letting go of the belief that your big kid has to act a certain way for you to feel okay. Let's dive in.
Hello, my friend.
When my oldest first went away to college, I texted him all the time. I'd send him these little notes. Hey, honey, how was your day? How did that exam go? And sometimes I'd just love you with lots of emojis.
Or I'd send him one of those gifts, a dancing bear or someone frantically waving hello. I kept thinking, surely one of these messages will get a response. And most of the time, I got nothing.
No response. Maybe every so often, I'd get a text three or four days later. Sometimes it would be a week later.
And it would be something like, hi, mom, things are going great. Absolutely no details. Sometimes totally ignoring one of the many questions I'd asked before.
And I remember noticing how much it bothered me. On the one hand, I was just sending a text. There often wasn't anything immediate that I was asking about.
It's not like I actually needed a response for any practical reason. But behind those texts was an expectation I hadn't even really admitted to myself, which was, if I reach out to you, you should respond. And if you don't, well, then what does that mean? Does it mean you don't miss me? That I'm not important to you anymore? Maybe that you're so busy building this whole new life that I'm becoming less and less a part of it.
And as I grappled with this discomfort, I started to realize that I had created an agreement in my own mind that my son had never actually agreed to. I was fulfilling my side of the agreement. I was checking in, reaching out, showing him I missed him.
But I was also holding this expectation that he should respond in a particular way so that I could feel connected to him. This is something I call an invisible contract. And my friend, we have these everywhere in our relationships with our kids.
So what do I actually mean when I say invisible contract? It's basically an expectation that you have, but one that you've never actually said out loud. It's essentially an unspoken agreement in your head about how things are supposed to go. And the truth is, you believe it's just understood.
I mean, as you listen to the story about my son not texting, there might have been a part of you that was thinking, oh no, that is not good. He should be texting her back. It's just what he should be doing.
No question, right? But the reality was that clearly wasn't an expectation that my son thought he was obligated to live up to for whatever reason. Now, there are so many other areas where these invisible expectations come up. If I cook, you should thank me.
Or if I ask about your day, you should at least share something, and ideally more than two or three words. If I'm driving you everywhere, you should show a little appreciation. If you get something out of the refrigerator, you should put it back when you're done, but not if it's empty.
Then it should go in the trash. Or maybe that if I asked you to do a chore, you should do it within a reasonable timeline, definitely before I remember to ask you about it again. Now, these obviously aren't crazy expectations.
They come from a reasonable place. Honestly, they come from both love and a sense of fairness that our kid recognized that if someone else is putting in an effort, that they'd meet you halfway. That if I'm showing up for you, you'll show up for me.
These expectations also come from a sense of responsibility, because there's a big part of us that hopes we've raised our kids to be good humans. We feel like we've modeled kindness and responsibility. So when our kids don't reflect it back to us, we also kind of feel like we're failing to do our job.
But the problem with these invisible contracts is that our kids don't actually know that they exist. Or if they do, if we've actually communicated these expectations to them, they obviously haven't actually agreed to them. But here's the thing, let's be real.
It's not like you haven't told your big kid to say thank you, or that you haven't asked them a million times to put their dishes in the dishwasher, or not to roll their eyes. I mean, the contracts don't really feel invisible or unspoken. But here's the nuance.
There are times when these contracts aren't invisible because you've never said them. They're invisible because we assume that saying it should be enough. That if we've asked clearly, our kids should respond in the way that we want them to.
And when they don't, it feels like they're ignoring us on purpose. And we don't just leave it there. We can also, in our minds, go to, they're ignoring us because they don't care, or they don't respect us.
Or maybe they're ignoring us because they're inherently irresponsible, and this is just who they are, and it's going to be a big problem when they go out into the real world. I mean, who is ever going to hire them if they're this disrespectful and irresponsible? We care about these expectations being met because, in our minds, they're often tied to three things. Our relationship with our kid, our kid's future, and our own sense of whether we're doing a good job as a mom.
If they text us back, we feel connected and important. If they follow through and act responsibly, we feel reassured that they're going to be okay out in the world. And if they're respectful to us and thoughtful and considerate, we get to feel like maybe we've taught them what we hope to teach them.
So when they don't meet those expectations, it can hit all three nerves at once. What does this mean about our relationship? What does this mean about who they're becoming? And what does this mean about me as their mom? So because we care, we have absolutely communicated many of our expectations. The problem is, even when we do say the words of exactly what we want and expect, we're still holding on to an unspoken contract that sounds something like, if I've told you what I expect, then you should respect me enough to listen and do what I say.
And that's the part that actually feels so frustrating. Because it's not just about the behavior. It's about the meaning we attach when our kids don't do what we asked.
That they don't care. That they don't respect us. That we don't matter.
And I want to be really clear about something here. I'm not suggesting at all that the answer is to stop having expectations of your kids. Of course you're going to have expectations.
You're their parent. You absolutely have a right to expect them to be respectful or to contribute at home or to communicate with you in some way. And you can absolutely ask for those things.
You can even set boundaries around them and have consequences when they don't happen. The real problem is when the unconscious expectation becomes, I need you to do this so I can feel okay. Now their behavior isn't just something you want to address as a parent.
It becomes the thing determining whether you feel respected, connected, reassured about their future, or confident that you're doing a good job. And that's when an unmet expectation starts carrying so much more emotional weight. Now sometimes we are very clear with our expectations and we communicate them frequently to the point where it doesn't seem like there can be any confusion about what we expect.
But other times these expectations are really only in our heads. Things we assume our kids should just know by now because they're old enough to know or because we hope we've instilled certain qualities in them. Maybe we've even earned the right to be respected.
Maybe you expect that if you've been running around all day, your kids should notice and offer to help bring in the groceries from the car. Or if I leave laundry folded on your bed, you should put it away without me having to ask. And you definitely shouldn't just dump it on the floor and pile dirty laundry on top of it.
It's also if I text you, you should respond quickly. Or if you need something from me, you should give me advance notice. If you're paying for something expensive, they should show some appreciation.
And more than just thank you mom, they should show that they really appreciate you've gone above and beyond for them. They should also come downstairs for dinner when you call them the first time. And if you're having a conversation with them, they should put down their phone and actually look at you.
If they know you're worried, they should give you a quick update so you're not sitting there wondering if everything's okay. And if they're struggling at school, they should care enough to try harder. If they make a commitment, they should follow through without you having to remind them five times.
And if the whole family is together for one night, they should want to spend at least a little time with everyone and act like they want to be there instead of just being on their phone the whole time or disappearing into their room. Do any of these sound familiar? Because my friends, what I've noticed is these expectations are everywhere in our interactions with our kids. And most of them feel so reasonable to us that we don't even recognize them as expectations.
They just feel like how a person should behave. And so we don't articulate these expectations out loud. In fact, it actually feels like it would be a little ridiculous to have to say any of them out loud.
But the truth is, all of these expectations are still running in the background of your mind. And notice how many of them seem totally reasonable to us as moms, but they are also totally open to interpretation in terms of what it actually means to meet them. We want our kids to respond quickly to our texts.
But what does quickly mean? Is that five minutes? An hour? Or is later that same day okay? We want our kids to do their chores in a reasonable time frame. So is that right when we tell them to do it? Or just before I think about it again and have to remind them? And what does it really even mean that they should care more about school? Does a certain amount of time spent on homework count as caring? Or do they have to prove that they care in some way? It's like we only know that we've been let down when we start to have feelings about their behavior. Because our minds have then decided whatever's happening isn't meeting our expectation.
Essentially, that it's not good enough. And once again, the ultimate problem is that our big kid hasn't actually bought into this contract. That gap between what we've asked for and what they actually do, that's where we open ourselves up to a lot of disappointment, frustration, and hurt.
Now of course when your big kid doesn't do the thing you expected them to do, whether you said it out loud or not, of course it feels like a disconnect. Like they're ignoring what's important. Or at least what matters to you.
Or what you think should matter to them. And because so many of these contracts come from love and our own sense of responsibility for raising caring, responsible people, when these expectations go unmet, it truly does feel personal. So let's look at a couple examples of what we make it mean when our kids don't meet our expectations.
Let's say you pick your kid up from school, and you're excited to hear about them, hear about their day, and then they give you a one-word answer. All that really happened was you were hoping for more, and they gave you less than expected. If there's a part of you that feels hurt by that, maybe there's a sentence in your brain saying, it feels like they don't care, that they don't want to connect with me.
Or maybe you come home from a long day of work, and you find open containers and trash all over the kitchen counter. It feels like disrespect. Clearly, you came home hoping to find a clean kitchen, and you were disappointed by that.
But if you're feeling really frustrated by that, there might be a sentence in your brain saying to you that somehow you've done something wrong by raising such an irresponsible kid. And now it's your job to make them more responsible. Or maybe you call your kid to check in, and they answer their phone, but they tell you they're really busy.
They say they'll call back later, and they don't. If you feel hurt, you might be thinking, it feels like I don't matter to my kid, like I'm not a priority. I even noticed the other day, my son, who's about to leave for college, he walked downstairs and out the front door to his car, which means he didn't walk through the kitchen, where he would see me and presumably then have to tell me where he was going.
I saw my mind make it mean, he's done being here. He's over having to tell us where he's going. He avoided the kitchen, so he didn't have to talk to me.
It's fascinating how quickly we make assumptions about how our kids are supposed to behave, and then how quickly our minds then spin a story about what that means. Our frustration and hurt in those moments, we feel like it's about the way our kid walked out of the room, or the trash in the kitchen. But our feelings are really about the meaning our minds attach to these behaviors.
If they cared, they'd notice. If I mattered, they'd respond. If I were a better mom, this wouldn't be happening.
My friend, these thoughts are the real cost of invisible contracts, because they turn everyday disappointments into evidence that you're losing connection with your kid, or evidence that they're going to go out into the world and be terrible human beings, or that you're failing as a mom. I know that you're doing all of these things, showing up for your kid, holding them accountable. You're doing all of this because you love your kid.
The expectations you have for them aren't meant to be a quid pro quo. You're not consciously thinking, because I do all this for you, then you owe me respect and connection. But at the same time, really, is it too much to ask for a little bit of appreciation? You're not just disappointed.
You feel frustrated and resentful, maybe even a little heartbroken. And let's be honest, these disappointments don't just happen once or twice. It often happens repeatedly over time.
So your resentment builds up. It's the accumulation of a lot of unmet expectations, stacking on top of each other until it feels like proof that things are headed in the wrong direction. So let's talk about why we create these contracts in the first place.
At the most basic level, expectations are just hopes. They're what you want. What you hope will happen.
You want your big kid to show appreciation and to be responsible and connect with you. Again, all because you care. These expectations come from love, but they're also shaped by so many other factors.
One might be how you were raised. Maybe in your family growing up, everyone sat down for dinner, and so you expect the same with your family. Or maybe something didn't happen in your family of origin, and so you want to create something different with your own kids.
Our expectations can also come from societal or cultural messages about what it means to be a good mom or a good family. From the time we became mothers, we've been surrounded by examples of how it's supposed to look. On social media, we see these perfectly coordinated posts and family dinners and vacations where everyone looks happy.
We've seen movies and TV shows where families are laughing around the dinner table, or kids confide in their parents. And this is also translated into our own invisible contracts for ourselves, standards of what we think it looks like to be a good mom. Because according to society, being a good mom means your kids do well in school, or at least they try their best.
A good mom makes sure her family eats dinner together. She doesn't yell. She doesn't lose her patience.
Her kids want to spend time with her, and they're not always on their phones. Saying all of this out loud, it seems wildly unrealistic. But be honest with yourself.
This is the standard you're likely holding yourself to. All of these hopes for what it looks like to have done your job well as a mom, they creep into our minds, and then we build contracts around them. The problem is, these hopes aren't just neutral.
They're loaded with judgment. Because when life doesn't match this perfect picture, it truly feels like we're failing. But these expectations don't account for the messy, complicated, imperfect reality of raising kids.
The truth is, they are working so hard in their own minds to figure out who they are and be independent. So often these contracts don't account for the developmental push and pull that naturally happens at this stage of motherhood. Another source of our expectations is the past.
There have been so many moments when our kids were little where we felt connected with our kids, when they used to listen, when they used to comply so much more easily. So it makes sense that if you felt that connection when they were younger, you don't want to lose it. And that's where invisible contracts can also be influenced by fear.
The fear that if you don't expect a certain level of behavior or interaction, you'll lose the chance to connect and influence your kid altogether. Or that you're not doing your job to prepare them for adulthood in the right way. Our minds also create these contracts as a way to try to make life feel predictable and safe.
If I can picture how I want things to go, my brain thinks maybe I can make that happen. If I set the expectation, maybe I can avoid the of disappointment. But as you've probably noticed, this doesn't always work.
Because here's the piece I really want you to walk away with today. Expectations are really about emotional payoffs. We don't want our kid to put the dishes in the dishwasher just because it's efficient.
Because frankly, it's actually probably more efficient for me to do it myself. No, we actually want our kids to do it because it would make us feel supported and respected. We also don't care about that family dinner just for the food.
We want it because it represents connection. Like we still matter to our kids. And that text we're waiting for isn't just about logistics.
We want it because it helps us feel secure, like we still have a place in our big kid's life. During the first year my youngest was at college, there were a few nights when his blood sugar went really low, and I could see it because I'm still connected to his continuous glucose monitor. So I couldn't help it when I noticed I'd text him a simple, everything okay? And I'd wait.
And when those three dots came up and he texted back a simple, on it, it was more than just the logistics of him taking care of his blood sugar. Those two words for me meant safety. Actually, safety for him and for me.
In other words, I got to feel safe because he had responded in the way I hoped he would. This is the emotional payoff we're hoping for when we have these invisible expectations. And my friend, of course we want this payoff.
Underneath every expectation we have is really a hope about how we'll feel if that expectation was met. The payoff is the emotion we think the expectation will give us. The peace, the love, the connection, the relief.
This is really the heart of why unmet expectations hurt so much. Because it's not just that the thing didn't happen. It's about the feeling we were counting on that we didn't get.
So let's talk about how you can start noticing your own invisible contracts. Because remember, a lot of the time we're walking around not even consciously aware of them. One place to start is to look at those moments when you feel disappointed, or resentful, or frustrated, or hurt.
Those emotions are usually a sign that an invisible contract has been broken. Ask yourself, what did I expect would happen here? What was this hope I assumed my big kid had already agreed to? Either because I told them a hundred times before, or because I feel like it's what they should know by now. Now part of this is going to feel obvious.
Of course you have these expectations, and I'm sure the vast majority of your expectations are not unreasonable. They all make sense. But by asking these questions, you're giving yourself an opportunity to articulate these expectations more clearly to yourself, so that you can see how much meaning you're attaching when they are not met.
This isn't about judging yourself for having expectations. It's about slowing down enough to notice what they are, so that you can decide with intention what it actually means that this expectation hasn't been met. As I shared in the beginning, my oldest son didn't text me back when he first got to college.
And if I'm honest with you, he still doesn't. But what I recognized then was that the reason I felt hurt about that was because I was holding an invisible contract that sounded something like, if I text you, you should text me back, and not four days later. And even more of the underlying thought I was having was, if you cared about me, you'd text me back.
I was missing the emotional payoff of receiving that evidence that he cared. But the reality is, my son never signed that contract. To him, not responding wasn't personal.
It wasn't about me. It was just him being busy living his life. So I realized I had a choice.
I could continue to experience the ignored texts as rejection, or I could take responsibility for my invisible contract. Because the truth is, my son loves me. So why was I continuing to make him prove it? My friend, my invitation for you is this.
The next time you feel that sting of frustration or disappointment, stop and ask yourself, what contract did I just expect my kid to honor? Naming it does not mean you have to let it go. It just gives you awareness. And that awareness is the first step to being intentional about what you do next.
And my friend, unpacking your expectations and making intentional decisions about what to do about them is the work we do inside Mom 2.0. Because recognizing an invisible contract is one thing, but actually learning how to stop needing your big kid to fulfill it so that you can feel okay, that is a much deeper practice. It's learning how to notice when their silence becomes, I don't matter. Or when their lack of motivation becomes, I failed.
Or when their bad decision becomes, I need to fix this. It's noticing all of that and then learning how to separate what your kid is doing from what you're making it mean about your relationship, their future, and you as their mom. This doesn't mean you ever stop having expectations or stop parenting.
And it definitely doesn't mean you become some detached mom who suddenly doesn't care whether her kid texts back or makes good decisions. It means you learn how to stay connected to yourself while you parent the kid who is actually in front of you, not the kid you need them to be in order for you to feel okay. And if you're listening to this thinking, I want that.
I would love to help you. You can learn more about Mom 2.0 through the link in the show notes. My friend, it is impossible to stop having expectations.
But you do have an opportunity to stop making your piece dependent on whether your big kid needs them. You can still want that text back. And of course you're going to want your kid to be respectful.
You can still want them to follow through and make good decisions and occasionally act like they really like you and want to be around you. But you don't have to turn every unmet expectation into a verdict about your relationship, their future, or whether you've been a good mom. The next time you feel that sting of disappointment, resentment, or hurt get curious.
Ask yourself, what contract did I just expect my kid to honor? And what was I hoping I would get to feel if they did? Because once you can see that contract, you get your choice back. You can decide what to ask for, what you want to let go, what boundaries you want to set. But most importantly, you get to decide what you want to make this moment mean.
Your big kid may never sign every contract you've written for them, but you don't need them to because you get to decide who you want to be in this relationship anyway. And that, my friend, is actually where your power is. 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.
