By Kathryn Peck
I hang around; I hover; I watch. I’m a textbook helicopter parent. And that’s the same for each of my 4 children. I’m the parent that stays to watch entire practices, that won’t let them walk but rather drive all the way to the door at kindergarten drop-off, and I’m the parent that lingers on the playground, warns “be careful” a hundred times, and climbs up the jungle gym steps to make certain my kids get to the top of the slide ok.
But I recently learned the hard way that you can’t be a helicopter parent forever. At some point, it comes to an end, and your kids have to go it alone.
But I recently learned the hard way that you can’t be a helicopter parent forever. At some point, it comes to an end, and your kids have to go it alone.
For me, the beginning of the end of helicopter parenting happened on my oldest son’s first overnight Boy Scout camping trip. Not one, but two nights. He’d never slept anywhere away from home that wasn’t with family.
It wasn’t long, minutes perhaps, before I began wondering how everything was going. Had they arrived at their campsite yet? What were they eating for dinner? How was my son’s new sleeping bag working?
With no electronics allowed, that also meant no photo updates or emails from leaders with updates on how the boys were doing. Unlike in school or sports, there was no app that was periodically updating me on what was happening. This was something entirely new – for both of us.
Leading up to the camping trip, my top worry seemed to be if he be scared at night. Did he have enough nightlights? I became obsessed with nightlights. I ordered 3 off of Amazon. 1 that clipped to the outside of this backpack (but I secretly wished he’d keep it in his pillowcase in case he needed a light at night). Then I bought a light that doubled as a lantern and a flashlight. Then the afternoon before he left, I also bought him a headlamp. All of my anxieties seemed to take the form of a battery-powered flashlight of some sort.
Other concerns: What would he wear to bed? Pajamas or sweatpants? Where would he put dirty clothes? I bought a nylon bag for this. Would he brush his teeth? Would he need or want a clock with him?
Turns out, he wore the same outfit every day and didn’t even change into pajamas. He didn’t brush his teeth with the new little travel toothpaste I bought him at all, and I never saw that brand-new stick of deodorant I packed again. And the excess of lights? He used one. And, he had the time of his life.
My heart soared and broke at the same time.
My heart soared and broke at the same time. Soared because of his newfound independence, but broke for the same reason - he no longer needed my helicopter parenting. But that’s just it. You raise your child with the hopes that they develop the aptitude and confidence to succeed in whatever that may be, even if it involves a bit of hovering.
Later, he confessed that while he loved his weekend camping trip, when he thought about home, his stomach ached a bit and he was happy to be home. What more can a mother ask for?
-
About the author: Kathryn is the owner of Bicycle Pie and mom of 4 little ones. Also a writer, editor, and former owner of one of Boston's premiere baby boutiques, she continues to write about motherhood, children's products, family life, and all other things that test our skills and patience as parents.
Photo credit: Marissa Adams/Bicycle Pie
Previous
