Ep. 26: What Do Kids Really Need from Us? - Part 1 (feat. Ethan Weiss, MS, LCSW)

EPISODE DESCRIPTION

In Part 1 of this conversation, Matti is joined by psychotherapist Ethan Weiss, MS, LCSW, to explore a question raised by a recent Wall Street Journal article about wealthy parents outsourcing more and more of the everyday work of raising children.

If someone else handles the meals, schedules, bedtime routines, scraped knees, and even reading the same book over and over again, what does that mean for the relationship between parent and child? Can we separate the “doing” of parenting from simply “being” with our kids? And are the ordinary, repetitive, and sometimes frustrating moments actually where much of the connection happens?

Matti and Ethan move beyond the extreme examples in the article to explore bigger questions about modern parenting: the difference between quality time and quantity time, what children learn through their relationships with the adults around them, and why trying to optimize away every inconvenience might come at a cost.

They also take a closer look at the idea that parents “just want their kids to be happy” — and why helping children experience the full range of emotions may actually be more important.

This is Part 1 of a two-part conversation. Check out the next post for Part 2!

Referenced in this Episode

• The Wall Street Journal — “When One Nanny Isn’t Enough, CEO Parents Hire a Whole Team”
  https://www.wsj.com/lifestyle/relationships/ceo-parent-nanny-assistant-teams-hiring-20d3a9c0

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TRANSCRIPT

Matti: These days, it feels like everything is about optimization: our health, our productivity, our sleep. We’re constantly looking for ways to improve ourselves and make our lives just a little more efficient.

And now, apparently, we’re doing it with parenting.

In July, The Wall Street Journal published an article titled “When One Nanny Isn’t Enough, CEO Parents Hire a Whole Team.” It explored how some wealthy parents are outsourcing what they call the “low-joy” parts of parenting to nannies and assistants while saving the fun moments—the vacations, the playtime, the special outings—for themselves.

The idea is simple: delegate the work so you can focus on quality time.

But that raises a much bigger question: What do parents actually gain by outsourcing the everyday parts of raising a child, and what might they lose?

Are the small things, the difficult things, and even the boring things actually the moments that create closeness? Is quality time really something you can separate from everything else? Or is this just another optimization trend that sounds good on paper but misses the point entirely?

Today, we’re diving into what parenting is really about, whether quality time can replace quantity time, and what happens when we start treating family life the same way we treat everything else: as something to optimize.

Here we go.

Joining me to discuss all of this today is Ethan Weiss. Ethan is a licensed clinical social worker and psychotherapist specializing in mental health treatment for children, adolescents, young adults, and families through his private practice, Yes and Therapy. Love that name.

He’s based in Sarasota, Florida, where he’s quite well known in the community, regularly appearing on local TV channels and platforms to share his expertise. Ethan holds a Master’s of Social Work from Loyola University of Chicago—woohoo!—and a Master’s in Child Development from the Erikson Institute.

Ethan, such a pleasure to have you on the show. Welcome to It’s Gonna Be Fine.

Ethan: Thank you so much, Matti. I’m excited to be here.

Matti: So, let’s jump in. I know you read the article. What were your initial reactions?

Ethan: Man, my initial reaction to this article was that I was really struck by the author’s perspective—or tone. Because on the one hand, if we look at this as a trend, we have to ask questions about the broader implications for child development.

And what I noticed is that kids are almost an afterthought. They’re hardly mentioned at all. The article is entirely focused on the adult experience and the adult justification for these choices.

So the question becomes: Is this a selfish and infantilizing trend among ultra-wealthy adults who don’t want to carry the responsibility of being a parent but want the label of being a parent? Or is this a response to a modern sociocultural landscape that demands constant, immediate participation in order to function—to be considered good enough?

And the absence of the child’s perspective is notable.

The other thing I picked up on is that the people interviewed—or used as examples of this phenomenon—are almost exaggerated and hyperbolic. It’s like, “We have an on-staff pet psychic, and then we have our chef’s psychotherapist to make sure the food tastes extra well,” or whatever. It’s so complex that it becomes eye-rolly.

Then, on the other side, as a counterbalance, the journalist gives us a parent who is a former lawyer in what seems like a pretty high-powered position, who has completely left the workforce to homeschool and parent her four kids full-time. She talks about how meaningful and rich the day-to-day spontaneous interactions are.

I think what gets lost in the shuffle—and what I’m interested in talking about with you—is the middle ground. What does this actually look like for the 99.9% of people for whom this lifestyle is completely inaccessible?

Because there are elements of this in ordinary life. Parents are constantly asking themselves: Am I participating enough? Is there more I should be doing? Am I a good enough parent? Or caregiver? Those are questions people are always reflecting on and going back and forth with.

And then there’s the other side: What is the impact on kids? If we’re talking about the extreme version of this approach to parenting, the real litmus test of its efficacy and value is: What are the kids’ perceptions?

Because when we talk about “quality time,” it’s notable that the only people describing the time as quality are the parents in the article. We’re not asking the kids: Do you find this time sufficient? How do you feel about the three hours on Saturday before your parent goes off to “fill their cup” for the rest of the weekend? Is that enough? Does it feel like quality time to you?

That’s a long-winded response to your question, but those were my initial reactions to the piece and the philosophy it seems to be exploring.

Matti: Yeah. Well, it’s funny you mention that because the “fill my cup” reference is actually from the article. One of the mothers said, “I’m a max-three-hour mom. I spend the weekend mornings with my four children, and then I move on to activities that fill my cup.”

That was a jarring thing to read.

And great point about how the article is really more about her than the kids.

It’s also funny you brought up the two extremes because I was going to ask you about those. There’s the person who barely does anything, and then the person who is very, very, very involved.

So, talking about the middle ground: Is there a difference between outsourcing childcare—which parents obviously do because they work and have things to do—and outsourcing parenting?

Ethan: It depends how you define parenting, right?

I think there is definitely, in this article and in the perspective it’s taking—because it uses “CEO” as a framework—a kind of corporatization of the lens through which parenting is being seen. It’s looking at jobs to be done, roles to be fulfilled, punch-list items.

And then there’s the other side of parenting that lives outside of that structure, which is a lot more abstract.

I don’t think you can really differentiate the two.

One of the parents in the article says something like, “I have a team that takes care of the doing so I can take care of the being.” On the surface, that sounds like it means something. But if you take 30 seconds to sit with it, it’s virtually meaningless.

Because the doing is the being.

It’s less about evaluating whether the time you spent with your kid was a seven out of 10 on the quality scale because you didn’t have to pack lunches. Maybe you felt less rewarded by the quieter middle ground.

But there’s a poem by Robert Hayden—I think—and there’s a line where he talks about his father waking up in the morning and stoking the fire before everybody else is up. And the speaker doesn’t fully understand that until he’s an adult. The line is, “What did I know of love’s austere and lonely offices?”

And I think so often it is the things that are done quietly, without a need for recognition in the moment, that demonstrate how we show true unconditional positive regard, love, and responsibility for the people and things that matter to us.

That’s what I resonate with.

What does it look like when you take all of those lonely and austere markers of love out of the day-to-day relationship?

Now, again, I’ve never lived this life and I never will. It’s so far afield from my philosophy on parenting and my parental goals that I can only speak from that position.

And reading it feels horrifying because it’s so antithetical to what I believe and how I aspire to parent.

But I also want to approach it with some semblance of cultural humility. There is a reason these things meet a need. The question is: What need is that? Whose need is it fulfilling? And is it sustainable?

I had a question for you, actually. What was it about this article in particular—and the questions it raises—that caught your eye? What resonated with you?

Matti: For me, I would use the same word you did: I was a little horrified by what I was reading.

I’m not a parent, as I’ve mentioned on many episodes, even though we’ve talked about parenting a number of times. But I have a lot of nieces and nephews, and I was a kid. I remember being a child. I remember growing up.

I come from a very big family with a lot of siblings, and I think I’m very sensitive to kids getting attention and having their needs met because that was more challenging in a large family.

As an adult, I can look back and say, “That could have been done differently,” or, “I wish that had been done differently.” There are things we all look back on.

So I think I’m very sensitive to making sure children feel cared for and loved. Treating them almost like a product—which is an extreme way to put it—felt very wrong to me on an emotional level.

And then, because we talk so much on this show about modern trends and social media and everything else, I saw a lot of familiar themes here: optimization, but applied to parenting.

So I read it and thought, A, I have a lot of thoughts and questions, and B, this is a great topic to tackle.

Ethan: I agree. I see elements of this everywhere, and the temptation to minimize the stuff that is unpleasant is human nature. I don’t want to throw stones at that.

But I agree—there’s a piece of horror that comes with it.

And there’s also the question of not just what it does for a kid to see their parents participating fully in the stuff that is hard and unpleasant for the sake of something that matters more—namely, them—but also what it does to a parent or caregiver to participate in those things.

Something that came to mind when I was reading this was two prevailing theories of how development unfolds.

The first is one a lot of people are familiar with: Piaget. That’s the stage model of development. As we grow and become more complex, and our brains develop, we have a more nuanced relationship with the world around us. We can manipulate and engage with physical objects and the environment in new ways, which then feed back into new accomplishments and developmental achievements. It unfolds sequentially.

There’s another one that I like because it’s a little splashier. I think he’s also a member of our tribe, and it’s always nice to have somebody batting for the home team, right?

His name is Lev Vygotsky, and his theory is sociocultural theory. What he posits is that our learning and development are shaped by our interactions with society and our surrounding culture.

There’s a more skilled other that we follow, watch, and model ourselves after. That allows us to develop into a human who fits into our unique social, cultural, and environmental niche.

I love that because it means development is a co-occurring and collaborative experience. We’re never truly independent, and we’re never truly dependent. Our optimal—if we’re going to use that word—state is interdependence.

I am because you are, that sort of thing.

And I thought about this when I was reading the article because there’s a piece that feels missing: feeling like you are a valued member of a community, that you have something to give, that you have a participatory role.

Because what they describe is an environment where a kid is entirely passive. Stuff is being arranged or facilitated, and they are showing up.

There are obviously pieces of effort and focus. They have dance classes, gymnastics, school. They have to participate to some extent. And some kids will naturally and temperamentally be driven to excel and achieve.

But then the question becomes: What are the expectations?

At one extreme, they may be nonexistent—“I just want you to be happy”—which I actually think is dangerous as a parenting goal.

Matti: The glasses are off. Okay.

Ethan: Sorry. No, they can come off. But what’s the point of having glasses you can take off if you don’t take them off for dramatic effect?

Matti: Okay, good.

Ethan: I’m going to wait for a moment, and then I’m going to take them off.

But seriously, if the whole system is devised to protect happiness, that can become an issue.

At the other extreme, it’s: “You are the scion of a great and mighty dynasty.” The expectations and stress that come from achievement can be gargantuan.

Again, I’m speaking from my own parental and sociocultural lens. How I feel about this is pretty specific. There are reasons people do what they do and believe what they believe that are different from mine.

But broadly, it comes back to this: What is the sociocultural niche you’re being raised to fill? And does your environment and parenting style match that?

When you see this method—as a person who grew up in a large family where time for individual attention was probably sparse—you have this horrified reaction to the philosophy.

What do you think it would have done, positively or negatively, to have had a fleet of people attending to your every need who weren’t family?

Matti: Yeah, good question. I don’t think that would have been good.

I don’t think that would have replaced what I—or maybe some of my siblings—really wanted, which was something from our parents.

Having someone do a task for me or simply be there for me wasn’t necessarily the answer. If I think back, I wanted them. I craved something from them.

So, no, I don’t think it would have sufficed.

Ethan: That’s what my gut tells me too. There’s something more than just having a very responsive personal assistant fulfill your needs.

Matti: An AI agent.

Ethan: Exactly. And that’s bleak.

That’s one of those unequivocal things where I’m like, “That can’t be good.”

Though Arnold was a very attentive AI babysitter in the romantic comedy, The Terminator series.

Matti: An AI agent.

Ethan: But I agree. That’s what I see too.

If you go back to the top of the article, it talks about outsourcing repetitive tasks, including reading the same book over and over.

And it’s like, okay, so she wants to read a book—as long as it’s a bop.

Matti: Right. Reading the same book seven times.

Ethan: And she only has to read it once.

First of all, how can you possibly get the voices where they need to be if you only have one run-through?

Matti: Exactly. You need rehearsal. Dress rehearsal.

Ethan: Matti, I’m telling you, the nuance and subtlety of Go, Dog. Go! only emerges with repeated practice.

And things like Hop on Pop suddenly become profound on, like, the 50th reading. At about the 30th reading, every kid’s book starts becoming about mortality.

Matti: What’s the most number of times you’ve read a book in a row to your kid?

Ethan: Oh, man. I don’t know.

See, it’s hard because it all blends together. And this is the point: I don’t remember the number. What I remember is how much I loved that.

There was shared attention between me and my kid. There was shared time. And that was what mattered.

There are books we’ve read a bunch because they wanted to. There are books we’ve read a bunch because I like them and wanted to, and they would consent to letting me read my favorite kids’ book.

And it is a brutal experience when you want one of your favorite books to become one of theirs and they’re like, “Yeah, nah. I’m not feeling that.”

You’re too thirsty to make it happen.

But repetition is everything.

And I think one of the things that gets lost in this optimization race is that no two experiences are the same. There is no reading the same book twice. That’s the truth.

Every single time you sit down, you’re sitting down as a different parent with a different kid. Both of you have had different experiences that affect who you are in that moment.

The dynamic is unique.

It can be similar, but it’s not the same.

What comes out of the reading is determined by all of those variables—both perceptible and imperceptible—that make that moment a unique blip in the development of a relationship.

Because we’re not just talking about child development.

The Vygotsky thing says development is sociocultural. And that means it’s intersubjective.

I am developing as an adult and as a parent through my interaction with my kid, who is developing as a kid and a human through their interaction with me and the world around us.

We’re constantly mirroring each other, almost fractaling into this infinity of experience and development and influence that enriches everything.

And it’s so easy to turn everything into a binary: I’ve read this book before; I haven’t.

I think that’s what gets lost when you optimize—or think you’re optimizing.

I don’t know if that’s too heady. I’ve definitely been accused of that before. But I think it’s really important.

Matti: So, can we talk about the happiness thing again? Because when you said that “I just want my kid to be happy” can be very dangerous…

I’m not a parent, but I sometimes think about what I would be like as a parent.

And I’ve read people talking about their parenting experiences who say, “All I care about is that my kid is happy.” But usually, I’ve seen it in the context of, “I’m not putting pressure on them to get straight A’s. I don’t care if they have some prestigious job. I want them to have a job they like.”

I don’t necessarily think they’re saying, “I only want my child to feel happiness.” I think they mean, “I’m not going to pressure them to achieve something or become something because I want them to, or because I think it will make them successful.”

Is there a nuance there?

Ethan: I think there’s always a nuance, which makes me infuriating to talk to if you’re married to me.

But yes.

And I think language is notoriously imprecise.

Generally, if you have five or six parents or caregivers saying, in a very understandable way, “Yeah, I want my kid to be happy. That’s what I’m aiming for,” I’m not over here crossing my arms and shaking my head saying, “How dare you say that?”

Matti: “I am anti-happiness.”

Ethan: Right. I’m not anti-happiness, and I’m not sitting over here waiting to dunk on someone.

It’s just a great opportunity to take a step back and ask: What do you mean by that?

Because it can mean, “I don’t want to put unnecessary pressure on my kid to achieve, thereby limiting their ability to enjoy life or find joy in everyday life.”

Or, “I don’t want them to feel so overwhelmed by what they’re expected—or think they’re expected—to achieve that they are miserable, sad, scared, anxious, or stressed more often than not.”

If that’s what you mean, yeah. That’s completely understandable, and it’s part of a larger parenting goal I can absolutely get behind.

On the other hand, you might find people—and I don’t think this is uncommon—for whom “I just want my kid to be happy” really means, “I don’t want them to experience unpleasant feelings because I have a hard time being okay when my kid doesn’t seem okay.”

So it becomes: I don’t want you to suffer because I suffer when you suffer.

That’s precarious.

Because then we’re sending the message—or creating an environment—where our kids have to either be okay or pretend to be okay in order to manage our feelings.

And kids are geniuses at figuring out what is necessary to optimize the environment into which they’ve been born. They develop skills, tricks, and strategies. They know how to navigate the unique system around them to get their needs met.

Sometimes people say, “That kid is just attention-seeking.”

Okay. Let’s play with that for a second.

Maybe the kid is connection-seeking.

That takes some of the judgment off a phrase that has become so loaded. If we say the child is connection-seeking, then we can ask: Are they missing connection?

The kid has done what they need to do to get their needs met. It may not be the way we would want them to do it, but it points to an unmet need.

So, back to the happiness thing: If our message—or the message our child receives—is, “I want you to be happy. You must be happy. If you’re sad, angry, or scared, then that’s not okay,” we’re in a really tricky spot.

Our kids can start viewing their own sadness and anger as unacceptable.

And there are sociocultural differences in how this plays out. With boys, sadness can be treated as unacceptable: Don’t cry. Don’t show it.

For girls, it can often be anger: Don’t feel that. That’s not an acceptable emotion.

I’m using a binary gender framework to make a broader point, not because that’s the only experience out there. Sociocultural programming is much broader than that.

But if I feel that certain emotions are disqualified for me, for whatever reason, then the internal voice of self-doubt and self-deprecation can start to get louder and louder.

We see rising levels of anxiety and depression. I’m not saying there’s a one-to-one correlation here. But if we shift the focus from “I just want my kid to be happy” to “I want my kid to develop a sense of themselves as capable of experiencing and navigating a wide array of emotions and still being okay,” then we’ve given them something much more durable.

Using Vygotsky’s language, we’ve scaffolded them. We’ve given them a boost that helps them step into the world as an interdependent adult.

Someone who can have a really rough breakup, feel awful, and still think: I have people in my corner. I have resources I can access if I need them. Ultimately, I’m going to be okay. I’m going to feel joy again on the other side.

And when they do feel joy, they can appreciate it because they know they’ll feel sad again. They’ll feel angry again. And sometimes situations warrant those feelings.

If we view feelings as signals—pointing to something we can learn or something we haven’t fully understood yet—then they become data. They become information. They become a beautiful point of self-discovery and self-knowledge.

But only if we allow ourselves to consider the entire spectrum.

And that’s where “I just want my kid to be happy,” even if the intent is broader than it initially sounds, can get us into tricky territory when our kids become teenagers and suddenly can’t control what they’re feeling half the time because hormones are spiking in one direction or another.

They think, “I’m feeling irritable. I’m such a bad kid.”

And it’s like, no. I don’t like having the door slammed in my face, and we’re going to have a conversation about that. But it doesn’t speak to the quality of your character.

Matti: Now I’m back in those years.

Ethan: So, of everything I just said—because sometimes I just follow a thread—what stood out to you?

Matti: What I was hearing—and maybe I’m oversimplifying it—is that the foundation you want to build for your kid is happiness, or okayness, or something solid.

That’s what you ultimately want them to keep coming back to.

But you don’t want them to stay there all the time. It’s okay for them to venture out and feel something difficult and deal with it. But the goal is that they can come back. Not stay up in the stress or anger or whatever it is forever.

Then the next experience might take them somewhere else, and that’s okay too.

So maybe when we say, “I just want my kids to be happy,” maybe what we really mean is that we want them to have that foundation and the ability to come back to it.

Ethan: I like that. I don’t think that’s oversimplified at all.

I tend to overcomplicate everything in my life, so it’s nice to have the counterbalance.

And yes, I think it comes back to this idea of resilience.

If we’re preventing all these small crises—if we’re creating or curating a childhood without small crises—we’re missing opportunities.

And I mean crises from the perspective of a child. Perception is reality, as cliché as that sounds. Trauma is in the eye of the beholder in terms of how we respond physiologically.

The same is true of situations that feel overwhelming and push us to the very limit of our capacity.

Vygotsky talks about something called the zone of proximal development. It’s essentially a place that’s just a little bit above what we can do on our own.

A parent, caregiver, supportive other—or your Jedi master—comes in and gives you the little shoulder nudge you need to reach just a couple fingers higher than you could by yourself.

And once you’ve done it, and you know you can, and you know what it looks like, you can do it yourself.

But without that process of being just a little bit out of our depth, repeatedly, we don’t have the opportunity to develop self-confidence and self-efficacy.

We don’t develop trust that the world around us is going to give us that little boost.

And we don’t learn that people believe in our competence.

That’s different from putting pressure on a kid to get straight A’s.

It’s saying: I’m setting expectations that are slightly higher than what you think you’re capable of, and then I’m going to give you a shoulder so you can reach them. Then you can see them too.

And then we climb. We climb the stairs together until you get to a place where you’re in your twenties and we’re having a conversation as two adults.

There’s still a dynamic of parent and child, I hope.

Matti: Right. You’re not besties.

Ethan: You’re not besties.

But you have this deep affinity and respect for the humanity of each person—for their journey and their process.

I know some people will roll their eyes that I use the word “journey,” and I respect that. But I also recognize it’s not everybody’s cup of tea.

Matti: You mentioned that when you’re venturing away from your foundation because you’re dealing with something, it’s very important to have people you can go to—whether that’s a parent or caregiver.

If your childhood consisted of hanging out with your parents for three hours on the weekend at the private beach, but everything else—bath time, bedtime, reading, tying your shoes, teaching you to ride a bike, cleaning up your scraped knee—was done by the nanny or assistant, are you going to have those people when you’re a teenager or an adult?

Who are you going to go to? Those people are probably out of your life, right? They were employees.

And if you never built that relationship with your parents, I would think it makes it much harder to have those people in your life when you really need them.

Ethan: I would think so.

We’d probably have to talk to Princess Charlotte or something and get her take on it.

Matti: I just texted different people, by the way, so we’ll see.

Ethan: Honestly, if anybody had a direct line to her people, it would be you. Let me know when she gets back to you.

But we are talking about this rarefied air—this bubble of aristocracy and dynasties that can operate in a similar way.

The question would be really interesting to put to one of those people. I imagine that, on the regular, some of their parents are maxing out at about three hours because the rest of the time is filled with affairs of state, affairs of empire, whatever.

And some of these people find their way.

So, is it possible for someone to develop a deep understanding of themselves and others in that environment? Absolutely.

When asking questions about development, the first answer is always: It depends.

It all comes back to this complex, impenetrable system of variables.

In that way, development is more like the weather than a specific physical reaction.

Matti: That’s an interesting comparison.

Ethan: Well, we can tell that a hurricane will generally hit a particular area. But try to be confident that it’s going to rain on your wedding day from two weeks out. You can’t really do it.

We get closer and closer, but it’s still oblique.

And I think that’s true about development too. We never know what person we’re going to meet, what experience we’re going to have, or what crisis we’re going to find ourselves in.

And then, through our engagement with that crisis, we don’t know what it’s going to do to how we see ourselves or navigate the world.

I tend to think there’s probably something very lonely about being surrounded primarily by employees.

Whether or not that loneliness can be articulated before someone is older? I don’t know.

What I would like to see as a sequel to this article would be one that explores parent-maxing—which is a term I think I just made up, but maybe I didn’t.

Matti: That’s so good.

Ethan: I think it also somehow involves bone smashing.

Matti: Maybe inadvertently.

Ethan: Inadvertently—and just spooning creatine into your mouth.

But I would want an exploration of where dignity lives here and where it gets lost.

Is the pet procurement specialist treated with dignity? The nutrition expert? The child stylist? The transportation engineer? The travel nanny? The preschool and kindergarten application counselor?

In this model, do those people have the opportunity to experience being treated with dignity?

Because it’s about surviving in the system we find ourselves in.

And I’m never going to denigrate someone who hustles in the way they need to hustle to take care of themselves and their family and find dignity within their work.

Matti: So, I have, a controversial question for you…

All right, that feels like a great place to end Part 1.

Tune in next week for Part 2, where I ask Ethan this question, and the conversation turns to what parenting actually requires and how we can make sure we’re doing enough.

We’ll see you then.

This transcript has been edited for readability.