wReflecting on childhood in the 1990s stirs up feelings of nostalgia. We roamed far and wide without supervision, rode our bikes, crafted burrows, and swam in streams. Post-school hours were spent crafting and playing board games; while the internet existed, my parents encouraged me to use a landline phone. Media was tangible—cassettes, CDs, VHS tapes—and often enjoyed together as a family. The memory of going to the video store to select a movie still thrills me.

These feelings are common, especially when you have a child of your own, and social media algorithms tap into this nostalgia. Three years post the birth of my son and starting a parenting column for The Guardian, I noticed my interest in “parenting in the 90s.” This phenomenon seems to have gained traction this year, with former 90s kids pondering how to raise their own children. It appears that significant technological advancements have resulted in valuable losses. But is it feasible to reclaim what was lost? And how have we adapted parenting since then?

“Absolutely, it’s a total pause,” states Justin Fromm, a father and content creator based in Las Vegas.
We’ve created a very successful replica video store in one of the rooms in his house for his daughter. “The whole family would pile into the car, head to the video store, and wander the aisles, deciding what to watch,” he reminisces about his childhood. “It was exhilarating and filled with possibilities. Scrolling online doesn’t compare.” There’s something special about physically going somewhere to select a movie together, the long-awaited anticipation of finally watching it. It felt like a true event. “Everyone remembers the ritual of choosing a movie together in a blue and yellow themed store, the carpet, the excitement.”

Although not everyone has the space or budget like Justin, the motivations behind his choices resonate widely. “As a parent, I consistently shield my kids from content I don’t deem healthy for their minds,” he explains. “We lean towards older films and shows, primarily due to their healthier pacing. They are not overly mixed or stimulating.” His daughters adore classic films like *Harriet the Spy* and *Dennis the Menace*, with *George of the Jungle* being the current favorite. Likewise, I found myself gravitating toward 90s media thanks to my son, with *The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh* capturing my attention. The contrast between the narrative pace of 1997’s *Teletubbies* and modern programming is striking.

Justin’s acclaimed video room represents a conscious effort to define screen time, aligning with the 90s parenting ethos. “Back then, people criticized TV for damaging brains, but it had its place in the living room,” he notes. “Now, media pursues us relentlessly, everywhere. In my household, media consumption happens at specific times and places.”

As concerns mount regarding the impact of screen time, alongside various campaigns advocating for childhoods free from smartphones, it’s understandable that many of us are reflecting on the era just before everything changed. Some parents, such as
schools, have introduced landlines for children, while a parent group in South Portland, USA, allows kids to call each other, thereby forming a “retro bubble” against screens. Browsing through 90s parenting-themed reels on Instagram (ironic, I know), I stumbled upon
a video depicting adults and children participating in a backyard water battle, all organized via landlines, of course, as they left their smartphones in bowls atop a high cupboard. Back when we weren’t glued to screens, our summers were often spent engaged in extensive neighborhood water fights, with mothers signaling the action when they appeared with buckets or garden hoses.

Jess Russell strongly values the importance of play. A former primary educator and special needs coordinator, Jess stays at home with her two children, aged one and three, and actively promotes learning through play on her Instagram account
@playideasforlittles. “I grew up in a rural setting, always outdoors. My mother was a stay-at-home parent, and we engaged in numerous arts and crafts,” she shares, striving to replicate this experience for her children. They spend ample time playing in the garden, engage in board games like *Hungry Hungry Hippos*, and watch TV as a family.

Part of Jess’s motivation for her current lifestyle stems from her disillusionment with educational directions that steer away from play and towards outcome-oriented systems. She feels fortunate to be at home with her children, a choice more attainable in the 90s when single incomes could usually support housing expenses. I share similar sentiments about working part-time. The nostalgia for the 90s reflects the struggles modern parents face trying to balance work and family time, all while fostering a playful environment.

It boils down to more than just screens; it encompasses connections, family moments, and shared time. “Parenting in the 90s exemplified ‘slow’ parenting,” Jess observes, explaining that days weren’t packed with scheduled activities. Boredom, as emphasized by Melanie Murphy, a mother of two from Dublin, is vital.
Instagram: “Your Nostalgic Millennial Mom’s Friend”. “Those extended, unstructured periods were a surprise gift. I desire that for my children. I don’t want an overly scheduled life for them.”

When her two- and four-year-olds experience boredom, their imaginations are activated, Melanie recounts. “They construct forts, turn floors into lava, and convert tables into dragon nests. We don old clothes and delve into dirt in search of bugs. They prepare meals and tidy the house… We groove to music and have dance parties. We watch my childhood DVDs on the projector. Sure, structured activities and adult-led plans create chaos, but as long as the kids are content, I’m fine with it.”

Certainly, kids from the 90s would chuckle at this.
One humorous video highlights the absurdities of 90s childhood, featuring a kid dashing after his mother in a changing room and giving himself a haircut in the kitchen. When I ask a friend if her parenting style resembles that of the 90s or if she knows someone whose does, she ponders: “Hmm, like sleep training, lots of TV, and burnt pancakes.”

She’s spot on. Yet, each advocate of 90s parenting I encounter acknowledges the allure of rose-colored glasses. I ask Melanie what elements of the 90s she’d prefer to leave behind. “Physical discipline. You were taught to ‘toughen up’ emotionally rather than to process feelings holistically,” she says, pointing to practices like sleep training and the “naughty step.” The negatives included “secondhand smoke everywhere, mental health neglect… The gender stereotypes were overwhelming, alongside diet culture and ultra-processed food norms.” Her mother counted calories with Weight Watchers, and even back then, Melanie found herself counteracting with junk food. Best left in the past. She also emphasizes that not every family enjoys movie nights together; for some, media consumption lacks supervision, and children might encounter highly inappropriate or traumatic content.

At times, the carefree approach of 90s parenting can veer towards negligence. Yet, I cherish how “free-range” my childhood was. Justin shares similar sentiments. “My parents weren’t always aware of my whereabouts, and that was okay,” he recounts. “I got hurt sometimes; my kids occasionally break their bones. We learned to avoid the actions leading to those breaks.” (Indeed, I broke my bones too.)

“That type of risk-taking is crucial; it’s how kids learn to assess situations. We’ve been scrutinizing our childhoods so much lately that we need to reclaim those teachings,” he remarks. He believes there’s been an overcorrection, and people “hunger for something freer, something resembling non-fear-driven parenting.”

In essence, we are in pursuit of balance. “We are more informed now—about emotions, neurodiversity, health, and nutrition—which undeniably has its merits,” adds Melanie. “It’s not a time machine I yearn for, but a beautiful fusion of the relaxed spirit of 90s parenting blended with today’s emotional intelligence.”

I thought it would be insightful to converse with someone who actually parented in the 90s, so Jess connected me with her mother, Lynn. “I savored those moments with my children, cherishing every hour spent outdoors or with friends,” she reminisces about the long days. She emphasizes that stores closed on Sundays, a simple joy allowing family time. “Many parents today yearn for that simplicity in family bonding.”

“We lived in a modest two-bedroom home and managed just fine… Now, it seems people must meet a certain living standard. That pressure is something I truly regret for them.” When I ask Lynn if there’s anything she admires about today’s parenting, she struggles to pinpoint anything specific. “I genuinely respect the balance modern moms seem to achieve. I never had that. It was undeniably straightforward.”

Initially hesitant about the concept of 90s parenting, Jessica admits it felt somewhat sentimental and was likely fueled by millennial nostalgia on social media. Yet, if that’s true, why write this? Is it sadness stemming from the fatigue of juggling work and parenting (especially with her son’s struggles to sleep)? Even reminiscing about the 1996 classic *Space Jam* evokes deep emotions tied to selecting a VHS at the local store. I can’t shake this longing for simpler times, perhaps indicating a need for more fun in my life. I’m thinking it might be time for a water fight. Who’s ready?

Parent-Child Relations: Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett’s Baby Raising
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