This weekend as we traveled down the coast, we stopped in a little town called Astoria. We had a truly revolting meal at a diner that boasted longevity (established in 1918!) and then wandered through the tiny downtown and out onto a pier overlooking the Columbia river.
From our perch above the water, we watched the boats and birds, and tried to keep track of the lone sea lion who frolicked below us. Is that his head? There’s his head! Noo… that’s a seagull. Wait! He’s over there! There’s his head!
The sun was shining, the sky a brilliant shade of blue, but I just couldn’t enjoy myself.
At first I told myself it was the bad fish that I’d had for lunch. But I knew better. I just couldn’t relax there on the pier. I was jumpy, irrational, snippy.
“CJ! DON’T TOUCH THE RAILING!”
“CJ, STAY BACK FROM THERE!”
While the rest of my family leaned over the rail and contemplated the view with dreamy satisfaction, I lurked behind them, one hand hovering above my son’s shirt, ready to grab him at the slightest misstep.
I was Afraid. Scared. Worried. Nervous.
My stomach felt sick, my legs shaky. All I wanted to do was to get far, far away from that railing… from the long drop just behind the railing to the water below.
I didn’t use to be like this. Once upon a time, I was relaxed. I let CJ run ahead. I was never reckless, but I always gave him freedom… appropriate freedom. Go ahead and fall, CJ.. that’s how you learn. I refused to be a helicopter mom, endlessly hovering and worrying. I would be rational. Reasonable. Kids need to take risks. They need to fall down. I believed this.
But then one day in the middle of winter I watched CJ run right off the end of a dock into deep cold lake water. It all ended ok… I was there… I jumped in and fished him out and he was fine. But I spent the next week reliving that moment when I saw him run off the dock. Trapped in nightmares of how it COULD have gone, if it hadn’t gone so well.
I haven’t been the same since.
Now, when we walk down the sidewalk, I can’t let CJ run ahead. When he’s riding his bike and gets more than a few feet in front of me, I feel myself start to panic. And when there’s water involved? From the outside you might see a tight smile, glazed eyes, you might notice an increased tendency to hover. On the inside, I’m hanging on by a thread. Tiptoeing the line between complete panic and controlled fear.
It’s not a pretty thing.
And now I’m caught between my beliefs and my fears… my ideals and my reality.
I still believe that children need to have the room to run, to fall down, to try new things and to take risks. But I also know that they don’t always stop at the end of the dock. And I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to CJ.
Even while I know I can’t control every situation, I find myself trying.
It’s like I’m the helicopter that whirs around CJ’s head announcing from a bullhorn, “I’M NOT A HELICOPTER!”
Well, you sure do LOOK like a helicopter.
But today I’m tired, and so I’ll confess to you that I am a helicopter, even though I don’t want to be. To be honest, I don’t know if I can ever be anything else.
***
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xo Jen
September 6, 2007 at 11:37 pm
Okay, I’ll admit it: I’m a helicopter mom. I try not to be, but I find myself hovering nonetheless. And I’ve had this horrible reaccuring dream where all three my children fall/jump off a peer into water that’s over my head. I’m trying to get them all to the dock but it’s hard to keep three kids’ heads above water. Ew, I get skitish just thinking about it. That’s why I enroll them in swimming lessons religiously ever year. Nope, I’m not a little paranoid. I’m a lot! :)
September 7, 2007 at 2:36 am
It’s called anxiety and it’s very normal after a brush with an event that could have been a disaster. Time to see some limits on walking off docks and it’s ok to be jumpy just means you’re hyper vigilant. Or, my idea, buy him a life jacket and make him wear 24/7. At least he’d float. LOL. Hugs. I have been there.
September 7, 2007 at 5:25 am
Oh my that’s a hard one. Especially after a close call like that. I tend to hover more than I ever thought I would, especially with Becca because she’s a little daredevil and she’d be the one running off the end of the dock too. You almost have to hover sometimes since you never know when they’ll get it in their head to do something that you’d never expect…
September 7, 2007 at 5:36 am
I always hover because it is impossible to keep my child corralled. If we walk down the street, I have to be right at his ankles or he’ll wander into a construction site or a moat of alligators.
And isn’t Astoria where they filmed the classic Kindergarten Cop?
September 7, 2007 at 5:41 am
I would certainly hover more too if I had been through such a terrifying experience. I think it’s just fine to hover a bit in certain situations. You sound like you’re doing great!
September 7, 2007 at 6:08 am
I’m a bit of a helicopter mom myself. I guess it’s just hard to find just the right balance. A lot of the time I want to just go ahead and let my kids learn for themselves but there’s a little nagging voice always saying “He’s going to fall! She’s going to put that in her mouth! I don’t like the looks that bird is giving the kids!” I’ll let you know if I ever get it figured out. You do the same ok?
September 7, 2007 at 6:23 am
I feel that every mom should be a helicopter in some way big or small. If not, how do our kids know that we will always be there to protect them. Now maybe if you have a 35 yr old kid still living at home it is time to push them off the helicopter :-)
September 7, 2007 at 6:26 am
I don’t blame you for being scared after an experience like that. I go back and forth between hovering and trying to give space. It’s such a difficult balancing act–but a lot of motherhood seems to be like that. I am sure you are doing the best job possible for CJ, and if you have to hover sometimes for your own peace of mind, well, at least he’ll know you care enough to be concerned.
September 7, 2007 at 6:38 am
Helicopter moms aren’t necessarily all that bad… until your child is an adult with his own home & family!!
I have no doubt that I’ll end up being a ‘copter mom too (when the time comes!)
September 7, 2007 at 6:41 am
I am sooo a helicopter mom too, I think I have been this way since the birth of my child…I wonder if it is something genetic? Or just applicable to women!
September 7, 2007 at 6:47 am
Don’t worry we are all like that at times. I have a new found fear of heights, that I discovered this summer at the Hoover dam. AN odd fear, not one of me falling off, but rather one of my kids climbing up to see something and falling off. This fear reappeared a few weeks later when we were at the Grand Canyon. Apparently I think my children are going to plummet to their death at a sightseeing destination.
September 7, 2007 at 6:52 am
Bless your heart! (Forgive me, I live in the south and we just say it, for real). I can’t imagine the terror you felt when that happened. Go ahead and hover a bit, girl! That’s your baby boy. A friend of mine watched her son fall off a dock when he was 4 and couldn’t swim, into black water you can’t see through, and she was 8 months pregnant with her 2 year old holding her hand and couldn’t jump in after him. She started screaming and her mom ran out and jumped in, started fishing for him. She got him, he spluttered and coughed for a minute and then was perfectly fine. Karen cried for two hours and shook for a week. And then went to a swim instructor and said teach them everything, the 4 year old and the 2 year old; I don’t care if they cry about it, and charge me whatever you want to charge. I’ll mortgage the house if I have to. Who can blame a mom for hovering after something like what happened to her or to you? It’s your job – you’re the momma!
September 7, 2007 at 7:59 am
After that experience, you have the right to hover. Did I possibly read about the Green Lake incident in the Seattle Times? I heard it somewhere. Several years ago, I was walking around Green Lake with a PEPS friend and her stroller rolled down the hill into Green Lake with her 5-month-old son strapped in. She ran and ran but couldn’t catch it before it flipped over the rocks into the water. Luckily, he was fine just a little shocked from the cold water.
Water is a scary thing. Ironically, we’re off to our first swimming lesson this morning.
September 7, 2007 at 8:05 am
I know how you feel. I lost Payton at the park one day. And I mean *lost* him lost him. The panic and fear is indescribable.
That’s been about 4 years ago now and it does get better. But it took a long time for me to be comfortable at parks with him. And moms…we’ll never totally get rid of the anxiety.
September 7, 2007 at 8:28 am
Sometimes I think “parent” is a synonym for “paranoia.” I’m fearful whenever my little ones are near the water because of a dream my hubs had involving the near-drowning of our 4-year-old. We visited the beach over the holiday (gulf coast) and my stomach was in knots most of the time.
September 7, 2007 at 8:33 am
I think even w/o the horrifying water experience you had that you’re a mom…being at least partially helicopter is okay. You’re aware. You’re trying not to be. And you’re not letting him know that you are one. THAT is the key point. Be a helicopter in disguise. Like a transformer doll or something. On the outside you look like globatron (or whatever the hell their names are these days) on the inside you’re a helicopter. Kid sees cool mom and you get to be hover freak. It works well.
September 7, 2007 at 8:38 am
I can’t blame you for being that way around water again. I think there are times when we HAVE to be a helicopter mom. I used to be too much when my son was a newborn, but I’m learning to be a little better now.
September 7, 2007 at 9:13 am
Sometimes, you gotta hover! I lost Baby Puppy in Wal-mart for 20 terrifying minutes (she was hiding behind some boxes). I will never forget the sound of that “Code Adam,” followed by a description of my daughter!
September 7, 2007 at 9:53 am
Megan at Velveteen Mind wrote a fabulous post about the difference between being a helicopter or a hanglider. This post really reminded me of it.
And I’m left wanting to give you a great big hug. What a heavy weight to carry with you. And yet, how can you not? How can you love your child as much as you do and not be affected by an experience like that?
September 7, 2007 at 3:23 pm
I alternate between hovering and then noticing that I’m hovering and taking a step back. But I don’t know what I would do if I ever had an experience similar to yours! How scary!
September 7, 2007 at 6:15 pm
how apropos reading this post is!
i just spent a half hour discussing how difficult it is for me to let henry run around on the playground. i was patting myself on the back for sitting on a bench in my in-laws (fenced in) backyard and letting the baby run up and down the hill, climb on the stones, pick up sticks and shove them up his nose.
and yet. YET! i am terrified that one day, while i’m basking in my self-congratulatoryness, henry will book it out into the middle of the street or fall through the fireman’s hole thing in the playground jungle gym.
great post! clearly resonates with lots of moms. i think i’m a closet helicopter mom…
September 7, 2007 at 7:13 pm
Hi. My name is Cate…and I’ve been a helicopter mom since 2005.
Ya…I’m a big-time heli-mom! I think it all stems from all the stuff that I’ve had to go through when I was younger, and the health issues that my boys have already had to deal with. I still let the boys learn things on their own…like Logan wasn’t taking the hint, so I let him fall off the couch…he’s a little more careful now!
BUT…their lesson-learning happens in an uber-controlled environment!
I have to say I admire you…if I had watched Zander or Logan go off the end of a pier like that (gives me shivers!), they would never leave the house again!