Helicopter Parents: We all Know Them

To be honest, I hadn't heard the term helicopter parents until recently and when I did and read some extreme stories of hovering parents, I thought, "Oh my gosh, I know them!" We all do. The parents who plan every second of every day and make every choice for their children from birth to college. The parents who choose their children's friends and activities, regardless of the wishes of the child. The parents whose child has never been rushed to the E.R. for a broken bone resulting from a skateboard accident because their child has been encased in bubble wrap from birth and never allowed to play on anything more dangerous than a tricycle. The parents whose child doesn't know how to interact with other children because they were never allowed unscheduled, unsupervised playtime. The parents who call the resident advisor at the dorm and demand he or she enforce a dorm-wide eight o'clock curfew because their child can't get twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Okay, so the last example is a little excessive, but in some cases, not far off the mark. Call them helicopter parents or, in extreme situations, Black Hawks. They are the parents involved in every aspect of their children's lives, beyond the age of eighteen, beyond high school, beyond college. They hover, thus the name, in an effort to maintain control in all situations and intercept ideas or influences that don't fit into their plan for their child.

Some would say, that's parenting and in truth, all parents do hover. The question is not "do you hover?" The question is how much do you hover and when do you stop.

When my first child was a newborn and I was a brand new mommy, I was rarely far from his side. I hovered over his cradle constantly, checking on him at least every ten to fifteen minutes when he was sleeping, often waking him in an attempt to reassure myself that he was still breathing. I carried him around in a Snuggli when he wasn't asleep. My middle child received much the same attention, although I learned to let sleeping babies lie. My youngest was a mommy's girl from day one and she was my miracle baby, so I couldn't help but hover, right?

Then they turned one and started walking and falling and climbing and running and generally trying (and succeeding) to make my hair turn gray with their antics. Parenting from that point on became a constant juggling act, trying to keep them safe and healthy while letting them explore their world and learn boundaries. I learned to let them fall down instead of catching them every time, but caught them when the fall could be dangerous. I learned to let them explore but within limitations I set. First the living room and playroom were acceptable and child safe exploration zones, but the stairs and kitchen were strictly off limits. Then I let them join me in the kitchen and bang on pots and pans with wooden spoons while I cooked or cleaned. They learned not to touch the stove or slam cabinets. I taught them to turn around and back down the stairs and later to hang onto the handrail. I guided them and I was there to remind them of the possible dangers and pitfalls in adding new territory to their world.

Now they are teens and pre-teens and boundaries have expanded to include school functions and sports and activities and overnight stays at friends' houses. But I know who, I know when, I know where or it doesn't happen. I log into the school's online gradebook two to three times a week and check for missed assignments or poor test results and follow up on any problem areas and enforce my "bad grades, no fun" policy. I check their homework and help study for tests. I don't call the teachers unless there is a continuing problem. I visit with the counselors or teachers with my children present, so they are aware of issues and have an active role in their education. I still juggle, but the juggling doesn't involve stoves and stairs. It involves watching over them but allowing them to make their own mistakes even when I know they might get hurt. It involves letting them learn to work out disagreements and personal differences with schoolmates and friends, when I really want to jump in and beat the snot out of an obnoxious bully. It involves helping them learn to stand up for themselves and then stepping back and letting them choose whether or not to take that stand. It involves letting them try, even though they might fail.

Helicopter parents would say I'm not playing an active role in my children's lives or that I don't expect much from my kids. I disagree. I have high expectations for my children. I expect them to join the military or go to college - no working dead end jobs right out of high school. The college or trade school and area of study or branch of military are their choice, but I will voice my opinion when asked. (Who am I kidding? I will voice my opinion even when unsolicited.) I expect them to be the kind of people that would make their grandparents and aunts and uncles proud and make them proud of themselves. I want them to believe in themselves and the choices they make, even when I am no longer supervising them on a daily basis. I expect them to turn the other cheek, but fight the good fight. I want them to work to live, but not live to work. Above all, I want them happy in the life they choose to build for themselves.

I've tried to give my kids tools to prepare them for life. I've stressed the importance of education. I've taught them to be self sufficient. They can cook and clean and do their own laundry. (Not that they necessarily do, but they have the knowledge to do so.) I've taught my boys to respect women and my daughter to respect men. I've tried to teach them to wait for love and not settle for less. I've tried to instill an appreciation of the written word and the importance of an open mind. I've showed them to be independent and strong but turn to their family for guidance when needed. I've taught them to weigh their decisions and make good choices to achieve the kind of life they want to live.

I think that's the line that helicopter parents cross. There is a huge difference between taking an active role in your child's education and future plans and planning it for them. There is a drastic difference between preparing your child for life and choosing that life for them. The lessons learned in childhood aren't just learned by the children. I learned with each child and each stage of childhood. Learned to hover close when they were small and helpless, then drift back a little, ready to swoop in when needed. And finally, to hover almost out of sight, so they always know I'm there if they need me but they are free to fly solo.