Strong-Willed Kids: The Dream for Their Future, the Nightmare for My Sanity
When my older girl was a baby, I was that mom. The one with the hiking backpack, wandering through Europe with a latte in one hand and a one-year-old strapped to my chest. She was calm, observant, adaptable. Strangers told us how “easy” she was.
And for a while, she was. Then the universe laughed and said, “Time to be humbled.”
Enter my second child , the one who owns a shirt that says “someone’s feral child.” She’s wild, hilarious, fiercely independent, and powered by pure determination (and possibly yogurt pouches). She wakes up ready to debate breakfast, argues like a Harvard Law grad over snack choices, and yet somehow charms every adult she meets. At school, she’s the “so sweet” one. She is always hugging teachers and waving at everyone in the hallway. At home, she’s the one who looks me dead in the eye and says, “I don’t like your rule.”
Balance, right?
🌊 Two Different Kinds of Strong
Both my girls are strong-willed. They just wear it differently.
My oldest pushes back to understand… and sometimes to win. Her strength is rooted in emotion. She wants to know the “why,” to make sense of how things feel. She’s deeply empathetic, curious, and negotiation is her love language. She’ll calmly explain her case like she’s presenting at a board meeting, tears welling as she tries to make me see it from her side.
My youngest pushes back to lead and always wants to win. She’s bold, fiery, and allergic to being told what to do. She’s the kind of kid who will climb the playground slide backwards because “that’s how I like it.”
Both want independence. Both feel deeply. Both want control, one through logic and heart, the other through sheer willpower. And both are preparing me daily for a future career in hostage negotiation.
🧠 The Parenting Paradox
We all say we want to raise strong, brave, independent kids until we realize that means raising small humans who challenge everything we say. The same qualities that will help them stand up for themselves, lead, and love boldly are the ones that currently make getting shoes on feel like a battle scene. It’s the paradox of parenting strong-willed kids: we want the outcome, but the process is… loud.
Research calls this “goodness of fit.” It is how well a child’s temperament meshes with their environment and parenting style. Strong-willed kids don’t just test rules. They test relationships.
They’re not asking, “Who’s in charge?” They’re asking, “Can I have power and still be loved?” “Can I be fully myself and still belong?” Our job isn’t to take their power away, it’s to help them learn how to use it well. And to do that, we have to manage not just their big feelings, but our own.
🧩 How We Foster Strength (and Why It’s Messy)
I want them to be brave and independent, so we do things to build those muscles:
When we give choices:
“Do you want the pink cup or the blue one?” It helps foster autonomy and decision-making. Then… she decides she doesn’t want either cup, because she’s “not in a cup mood.” Lesson learned: autonomy builds independence… and sometimes chaos.
When we validate emotions:
“I see you’re frustrated that it’s bedtime.” It teaches emotional awareness and connection. Then she responds, “Yeah, I’m frustrated, so I’m not doing it.” Cool, cool, empathy achievement unlocked, compliance demolished.
When we encourage leadership:
“Can you help your sister pick a game?” It fosters confidence and teamwork. But then… she declares herself “the boss of the game,” and her sister revolts. Leadership, meet mutiny.
When we model repair:
We apologize when we lose our patience. It teaches accountability and trust. But then… they start apologizing for us (“Sorry Mom’s cranky, she needs coffee”). Touché, small humans.
And then there’s the everyday version of this. The slow, subtle kind of independence that tests both your patience and your schedule. Sometimes raising independent kids means it takes five minutes instead of two for them to put on shoes, buckle their seatbelt, or pack their own lunch. And it’s so hard when you’re in a rush, running late, and you hear that tiny, determined voice say:
“I do it myself.” That small but mighty sentence really means: “Listen here, lady, I’m the boss.”
And even though every fiber of me wants to jump in and “just do it,” because we really needed to leave about 8 minutes ago but the battle of which princess dress matches the shoes took way longer than I planned for, I know that by taking a step back, even as my inner Momster starts to bubble up, I’m supporting both their independence and my regulation. Independence takes practice… and so does patience.
Turns out, we’re learning to “do it ourselves” too.
💬 The Feelings Behind the Scenes
Some days I’m proud. Some days I whisper “I can’t do this” into my coffee. Both are okay. Parenting strong-willed kids can stir up frustration, guilt, and self-doubt. Their intensity brings out our own need for control, our discomfort with pushback, our fears of doing it wrong. But here’s the truth: their big personalities require our big growth. They teach us to stay grounded while they practice standing tall.
The goal isn’t to raise easy kids, it’s to raise capable ones. One’s that as heartbreaking it is to think about at three and six years old, won’t need me someday. My older girl’s emotional depth will make her the kind of friend and leader who listens before she speaks. My youngest’s fire will make her the one who stands up for what’s right and never backs down. Both will know their voices matter because we didn’t silence them, we shaped them, even when it tested every ounce of our soul. And that, I think, is worth every single bedtime debate, snack meltdown, and “I don’t like your rule” moment.
🪞The Reminder I Keep Coming Back To
Raising strong-willed kids will stretch you, humble you, and teach you more about patience than any self-help book ever could. But it will also show you what real courage looks like in them, and in you.
Messy? Always.
Managed? Barely.
But worth it? Every single time. 🤍
Cheering you on through the chaos,
Katelyn – Messy but Managed