When I was getting ready to go to college, my mom and I attended a new student orientation thing at UC Davis. I think we stayed overnight in separate dorms. I was 18, she was 46. I played it cool, she was like a giddy school girl. I don't remember a lot of the details about the trip. I do remember that my mother could not stop talking about it. She had my academic trajectory planned, she raved about the dorm food, and she made lots of friends.
I'm not telling you this story because I was raised by a helicopter mother. In fact, my parents gave us plenty of rope and responsibility. We were raised to be independent but there was always support and cheers when we needed it. I owe my life's successes to my parents. I tell you this story because it makes me laugh that anyone acts like this with their kids ALL THE TIME! And then I stop laughing and worry that this whole over-parenting thing is a wickedly deceptive pass-time. Over-parent? ME? You mean over-love, there's never too much love!
Kevin and I laugh about the freedom we had as kids. We both rode bikes all around our neighborhoods, Kevin even rode around town! We don't let our kids play out front without us. And there were child abductions and stranger danger in the 80's so that's not it. Our perspective is just different.
But it goes beyond safety. We want our kids to be successful. Right? So we seek out ways to make their little futures successful. And along comes our worry and fear. I worry that Keith doesn't know how to hold a pencil or draw a person. I worry that Lauren is going to punch someone. I worry that Patrick will bomb a math test. I worry when they tell me they don't have friends. I worry when they tell me who their friends are. I worry that they will fail and let's just say it.... I FAIL. Mama does not want to fail.
I take it personally. I really do. I don't want to fail so why not help, encourage, and maybe just do it for them. STOP! I am telling you right now. You have to stop. Stop and I will tell you another UC Davis story.
I thought I wanted to be a psychologist until I flunked (Royally Flunked, F- hide your paper in your backpack flunked) my first Intro. to Psych test. I was pissed. I didn't go to the professor and complain about her teaching style or the tricky questions. I certainly didn't ask my parents to call the Department Head and get him to let me take the test again. I sat my happy butt in my desk chair and studied like I had never studied before. I didn't get an A in the class, I got a B+ and slid on over to my safety major: Political Science. failure is part of life, your response to failure is the definition of your life.
The skills that we can learn from struggling with what ever life throws at us equips us for success. The lessons that we learn from making mistakes help us figure out what to do with our opportunities. The personal accountability that we take is the first step to maturing and soaring.
Helicopter parents are known because they are at school all of the time. Like a true helicopter parent, I'm at school a lot and the other day I had to shut down my engines. I want you to understand what a fight it is to be a better parent. Patrick was invited to be a part of the Human Relations committee at school. We talked with him about it a lot, specifically praising the fact that he is a leader. We even had him write the date of the meeting down in his planner. The day of the meeting came and I forgot to remind him (I know.....). He missed the meeting. FAIL! Here was my temptation, call and/or email the principal and explain the situation and blah blah blah. Here's what we did: we told him to march his happy butt up to the principal and do the explaining on his own. AND if he couldn't find her, he needed to march his happy butt into her office. You have to understand that for my child, this is HUGE! And guess what? He remembered and he did it! I was near tears. You have to teach your kids to accept accountability and admit mistakes AND give them the confidence to speak on their own behalf. This is my biggest challenge with Patrick, I talk for him all the time (working on it though). So it gets better. The next meeting, I happened to be on campus and I fought my helicopter hard. I wanted to walk over and just take a look to make sure that he made it to the meeting. I was walking off campus with my friend and actually turned around and walked back in the direction of the cafeteria before I stopped myself (I'm sure I looked like a crazy person with helicopter mommy and free range mommy pulling me in two different directions). He did make it to the meeting. I just had to wait until afterschool to find out.
This week was a tough week for my boys. Without going into too much detail I truly hurt for them this week, socially and academically. I have had a pit in my stomach because they failed, made mistakes, and stumbled. And quite frankly, people have failed them. While you are in the midst of it, reflection is difficult. I just want it to be better. I want them on the happy side of the fine line. But they can't be protected from everything nor should they. So, I am not in front of them clearing the path. I am not hovering over them checking every last detail. I am not carrying them so they never trip. I am walking beside them, holding their hands when they need it, encouraging them to run ahead outside of my reach, letting them do for themselves, and praying a million prayers over their heads.
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