My ex-wife, and to some extent her new husband, are uber-helicopter parents for their son. My daughter, on the other hand, was told by her mother to fly on her own once she turned 18. Why the difference?
I think when my ex-wife gave up her career to care for her son she decided that he would be her “project”. She needed to focus her energy somewhere so that’s where she decided to focus it. Her son is a borderline special needs kid so that probably got the ball rolling… but even at 16 he can’t do anything on his own without his mother hovering close by. For example, they are looking at colleges for him and he has expressed an interest in going to college in Montana (they currently live in California). According to my daughter they plan to pack up and move to the same town as the son’s college is in so they can be close by if he needs them.
Following your child around the country doesn’t seem healthy to me, but the mother and father both seem okay with it. I can’t imagine how this kid is going to grow up and function as an independent adult. I, for one, as the opposite of the helicopter parent and often forced by daughter to experience things on her own, in a safe environment, so she wouldn’t be so dependent on me or anyone else. I think it has payed off in her case…
My kids make their own lunches - I inspect, but it is 95% always very healthy, pack their bags the night before, make their own breakfasts and must be ready to be out the door at 8:18 am on the days I am driving or I am leaving them behind. If they leave something behind ( shoes/lunch/homework) I don’t bring it. Calls home are met with a " Well, what lesson have you learned from this little adventure?"
When I see parents sitting at the end of a driveway waiting for the school bus to give their kids a ride back to the house ( granted, where we live some driveways can be like a half mile long.) unless it is subzero weather or raining before school, there is NO FARKING REASON TO FERRY THEM FROM THE HELL THAT IS KNOWN AS WALKING IN FRESH AIR CARRYING THEIR BAG. God, this just makes me weep for the future. The weather might touch our children. AIGHHHHHHH!
When I hear moronic mom’s saying, " My kids would never make their own lunches." I come pretty close to getting all stabby.
I think it is the parental units giving the approval and assistence (real and perceived) that they never got from their own mommy and daddy that prompts this kind hovering.
OMG. There’s a mom on the edge of my social group who is like this. Her kids are in friggin’ High School (about 13 and 16, I think) and they don’t even do chores around the house because she’s never made them do it! Listening to her complain about them without yelling at her really tests my self-control.
I weep for the future roommates of those kids.
Can I say that when I was in grade school (I’m 26), I couldn’t freaking stand parents like you? No offense.
Here I am, doing my own school project by myself like it’s supposed to be and other kids are handing in these things that their parents did and so are way better than what any 8 year old can do. So then the kids who did do it on their own feel like crap because theirs don’t look anywhere near as good.
HATE.
No offense.
My son had sun poisoning, second degree burns and dehydration requiring IV fluids one summer from 3 hours out in the sun in northwestern New York. I’d hate to think what the Arizona sun would do to him by afternoon (you do know that even the best sunscreen doesn’t work for more than 3 hours, right?) We’re not all lucky enough to have sun tolerant skin - we’re both covered in pre-cancerous moles with a family history of melanoma. But I will add that he’d be responsible for his own hat, at least, and if the teacher weren’t willing to sunscreen him at 6 years old, he’d be wearing long sleeves and long pants every day at recess. Yes, 20 minutes is long enough for him to blister.
And now I sound like a freaky helicopter parent, but really I’m not! They make their own breakfast at age 4, he started making his own lunch in first grade (from an approved list that stayed on the fridge), they’ve had chores since 2 (toddlers can load silverware in the dishwasher and pick up dirty socks with the best of 'em!) and his homework has been his problem since 6th grade. (In fact, I got yelled at for being too hands off on the homework issue once in a thread here.) He’s been doing his own laundry since 5th grade or so, and babysits his little sister and cooks meals for her when he does so.
I am, at the moment, being a little hovery as we’re trying to get him into a better school. He’s 16, and while he’s going with me to school visits and such, I am the one asking most of the questions because, well, he’s both shy and just doesn’t know what to ask. But my hope is that my showing him how to chose a school now, for high school, will teach him how to do it himself for college. I did read over some application essays, and led him through rewrites of those, but I did it by leading, not telling him what to write: “You say here that school uniforms help keep the students focused. Tell me two ways they do that.”
ARGH! Or, “My kids just don’t do chores - yours are so helpful!”
Well, how the hell do they think that happened? It’s not like the kid loves to take out the garbage, but when I say, “hey, kiddo, time to take out the garbage!” he takes out the garbage! How hard was that? And the kicker is, when their kids are at my house, they help out. Why? Because I ask them to, “hey, would you please help WhyKid by gathering up the small trash cans from each room while he empties the cat litter box?” And guess what? Their “lazy” kids work for me just fine!
Why the hell would you talk to parents in the first place? You’re a counselor for the college students, not a nursemaid for parents. Next time you get a call, hold the phone away from your ear and yell the following " no mamma, I’m not talking to another dysfunctional parent" and hang up.
Indeed - I’ve mentioned this before but when staying with my father’s wife and my two half brothers, mealtimes are just not a fun experience: the boys pick, one eats too slowly, one eats too fast, one won’t finish what he’s given or moans that he doesn’t like it (despite eating it happily the week before). It’s almost painful sitting through this as an observer.
Dad and step mum go away for a night leaving me to baby sit? Mealtimes are relaxed, everyone eats their food, no problems. Don’t like what I served (that you selected)? Fine, next meal’s at 7pm. Not hungry? Fine, next meal’s at 7pm. But then I also don’t present the experience as a regimented event and shout “we’re trying to have a NICE FAMILY DINNER!!!” at them so that’s probably why it’s easier for me.
Another thing that irritates my bottom is parents who will tell me that my children are always polite and well mannered * but, yet do not expect the same politeness and consideration from their kids*.
FTR, my children are like un-drunk soccer hooligans for opposing teams to each other at home, just itching for a fight and looking to blame the other for any transgression ( real and perceived) just to get things going.
If you don’t like what I made, says I, you can have a PBJ sammich. This isn’t a diner. This isn’t Burger King. You can’t have it your way! Where is it written anywhere that *Life Is Fair? * Capesh?
God, I do so love being the Supreme Empress of Dust Bunnies and Mismatched Sox.
Will you be either my mom or my boss, please? You get one job and Shirley Ujest the other, ok?
SiL has a conflict between wanting to be UltraMom and wanting to be UltraDoctor. The main two reasons I’m happy she’s “stuck” in the afternoon shift are that, one, that’s the shift which goes best with that natural sleep cycle which she refuses to admit she has (her natural sleeping hours are about 2am-10am) and two, it gets her off The Nephew’s back for several more hours a day than if her work hours took place within his school hours and get her off The Niece’s back for a few hours.
If she was able to get a morning shift, she’d go into full octopus mode. It’s one of the things she and my Mom have in common, a strong eight-armed embrace… help! My Mom’s trying to hug me to death!
Good point. My daughter has autism, and I do find it difficult to know where to draw the line when it comes to independence. When you’ve made an attempt at something straightforward, like having her walk from drama class to the adventure playground by herself (a minute’s walk through the park; no roads, just turn left and the playground is right in front of your eyes), and your ten-year-old daughter has instead repeatedly carried on walking straight ahead and just kept on going, it’s difficult to move from there to independence of any sort.
We’re also having to fight for a school place for her, and have spent years fighting for help in school, so I can see how being highly involved in your kid’s education could become a habit that carries over to college years.
I don’t think I am a helicopter parent - I’m not the kind who’d try to persuade the drama teacher to give her a bigger part in the play - but I do have to help her a lot more than parents of other kids her age.
My third grader just did her first research project. They wrote a paper (about five paragraphs) and then did a display. She did elephants and made a little elephant out of sculpty and put it in a shoebox diorama. I did give her a little guidance - mainly showing her that she should pull out the ears and trunk and not stick them on - but she did the modeling (I did the pegging and the baking).
The projects were all out on display. And I said to her teacher “these really turned out well.” “yeah,” she said, “some of the parents went a little overboard.”
I just wanted to say that the school down the road from you named after a color is excatly the same in terms of helicopter parents. I work with someone now who used to work in the student affairs office at said place of higher education and she mirrors a lot of what you say. I find it so funny that parents feel they need to steward their children practically through their thirties, otherwise the kids might :eek: learn to take care of themselves. Imagine that!
