We grew up in a different kind of world, one with scraped knees, dial-up tones, and Saturday morning cartoons you had to wake up for. Our parents weren’t tracking every move on a phone; they were trusting us to figure things out and show up for dinner.
My mom and her friends got together for bunko or bridge every week. We’d hang out in the next room, listening to their laughter, learning what adult friendship looked like — real connection, real conversation, no phones in sight.
We saw family all the time. My aunt and grandmother were regulars in our kitchen, where we cooked together, played games, and simply were together. It wasn’t a “planned” family gathering. It was just life: shared, messy, and full.
My friends and I spent hours playing in the woods, making up elaborate games and choreographing dances no one would ever see. There was no content to create or capture. It was pure imagination, play for the sake of play.
Technology was minimal, and maybe that’s what made presence possible. We learned to look people in the eye, to talk around the dinner table, to be bored, and to find our way out of it.
There were no curated playrooms, no color-coordinated lunches, no family group texts buzzing all day. We had community, the kind you bumped into, not scheduled through a calendar. And we had simplicity, the kind that made space for connection.
What I Want My Kids to Learn from the 90s
As a modern mom, I love having access to resources, community, and information at my fingertips, but I also want my kids to know another way of living.
Here’s what I hope to pass on from that slower, scrappier decade:
- Freedom to roam. I want them to ride bikes, explore the woods, and discover the world beyond their screens.
- Minimal tech, real presence. Simple devices, less distraction. I want them to learn how to have conversations, to sit through a meal without a screen, to feel comfortable in stillness.
- The art of waiting. For the next episode, the next season, the next big thing, because anticipation builds appreciation.
- Imagination over entertainment. May they find joy in cardboard boxes, backyard adventures, and rainy-day reading.
- Face-to-face connection. I want them to know the power of real conversations, not just notifications.
- Simple joy. Popsicles on the porch. Sleepovers in blanket forts. Music on repeat from an old playlist.
- Community trust. I want them to grow up knowing their neighbors and to believe the world isn’t something to fear.
- Resilience. To get back up when they fall, to solve problems, to figure things out on their own sometimes.
- Presence. Because life isn’t meant to be documented; it’s meant to be lived.
🎧 Your Turn
What do you miss most about growing up in the 90s, and what parts of that childhood do you want your kids to experience?
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