I am a self-proclaimed helicopter parent. I originally thought the term meant one who rises above everything while looking out for everyone. Turns out, it references a parent who hovers.
I’ve been told this by all the “professional” parents around me and some school care-givers as well. They don’t actually say “helicopter parent” to my face, but, rather they whisper or infer it. It’s okay. We waited until our forties to have a family.
If I seem cautious with my children, it’s because life has taught me a lot and I’m trying to protect them from excessive E.R. visits. But, I want them to learn from my mistakes. Rarely a good thing to be sure. I wrestle with this everyday. My Mom and Dad wanted a better life for me and my sister; I want better for my children. But I wonder, are we making life too easy for our children?
I see other parents do it and sometimes I cringe. Recently, at dinner with another family, I witnessed a full nuclear meltdown when the child hadn’t received a particular color of crayon. My wide eyes and gaping mouth did little to hide my shock at how the parent handled this. Instead of taking their child aside and discussing the unacceptable behavior, the parent walked up to the host station and requested a red crayon for her “poor” child who neglectfully did not receive all of the appropriate shades in their crayon box. Crisis averted…or delayed?
I may have also unwittingly made similar mistakes. (But my son is really cute!) I’m not kidding; even his pediatrician asked me if it was difficult to say no. It is. But I do. And I stick to it…mostly. (But, seriously… he’s reallllly cute!)
The truth is that we have made life so easy for our children. And, by doing so, made it easier for us. A perfect example…iPads have made eating out a breeze these days. Plop your child down, hand them a screen and enjoy your meal. Not since TV dinners has life been so simple…and quiet.
But what do you do if you forget the screen or it’s not appropriate to have one with you at an event? Does your child know how to behave without the subtle hypnotic sedation? Does your child know how to be (gasp!) patient?
Our son has a tablet. We used to let him use it after we ordered our meal and until his food arrived. (Hey, don’t judge. I’ve watched other kids play WHILE they eat.) And yes, before you ask, he could play again after he ate. We justified his long day (and ours too, I’m afraid) as to why it was okay. But it wasn’t.
Suddenly we noticed our son wouldn’t look up when people approached the table or came to refill his water. He was obsessed with “Can I have my tablet?” as soon as we sat down. Sometimes even before. He could squeeze in twenty five questions in the 15 feet it took to get from the door to the table. When he was given his little visual babysitter, he didn’t say “hi” to people when they said “hello” to him. He wanted to play with his “screen” even when there were other children at the table.
None of this felt right. And then…THE CRAYON! Luckily, my son was busy playing with his tablet and didn’t see this. But, witnessing that exhibition made me realize we are tuning our kids out as much as they are tuning us out.
So, we told our son he could use his tablet after he ate all his dinner. We explained that before that, it was our family time. We explained that we wanted to share our day with each other. He balked. He whined. He even cried a bit. I may have, at this point, as well. I wanted to give him his tablet to keep people from staring…but I didn’t. Instead, I gave him a choice. I explained he could have the tablet AFTER dinner or NOT AT ALL. This choice seemed less child-friendly. But, sometimes the old way is the best way. And my parents raised two children with very good manners. And, my son agreed that after dinner was the better choice for him.
I want my son to stand up when a lady approaches or leaves the table. I don’t want him looking down at his lap through the whole meal. I want my son to hold the door for people. I don’t want him so wrapped up in his new iPhone watch…or necklace?…that he doesn’t notice people running toward him with their arms waving. I want my children to see that there’s no elevator BEFORE stepping inside.
And, as a helicopter parent, I won’t let my children get the shaft.