Navigating the Helicopter Parenting Skies: A Self-Reflection
Jump into my chaos - sports games, concerts, breweries to parenting. Navigating the helicopter parent fears, finding laughs raising little rockstars!
This column sparked from a chat with a friend who's seen me in both pre and post-kid eras, casually dropping the question, "You done any 'adult things' lately?" No harm intended, but it got me thinking about two things:
People who don’t have kids don’t understand that when you have them, your kids’ schedule becomes your schedule.
Am I a Helicopter Parent? As I embraced the title of stay-at-home dad, saying goodbye to office politics and welcoming the chaos of diaper changes, a nagging doubt emerged. Have I, in the pursuit of unconditional love, unwittingly transformed into the helicopter parent I swore I'd never become?
Here's a rundown of the contemplation I've been engaged in over the past few days. Dads and fellow parents, I'm eager to hear your thoughts as well!
The Nap Time Saga: The hours of nap time are when the house is silent and I find solace. It's a sacred two to three hours, a haven where I can nap, work, or savor a moment of tranquility. Nap time is a sanctuary of sanity amid the chaos of parenting but a crucial space for doing adult-only activities.
Kid Schedules Rule: I mentioned this above, but post-kids, their schedules intertwine with mine, a combination where extracurricular activities now interrupt my once sacred weekends (and free time in general). The relentless demands of Corporate America, with its perpetual notion of work, pushed me to trade in my career for the unpredictable, but often more rewarding, rhythms of parenting.
Overall, it’s true that I have less adult time than I did before kids but there ain’t nothing wrong with that!
Therapy Realizations: A conversation with my therapist peeled back layers of guilt regarding my oldest's candid remark about working during playtime. In turn, this triggered a revelation. A smidge of work during naptime doesn't tarnish my role as a childcare giver. Balance, it seems, is the elusive remedy for parental success. If I’m not finding time for adult work then I can’t be the best caregiver to my girls.
Humor in Challenges: Let's address the elephant in the room – depression and anxiety, the uninvited guests in my parenting life. Worrying about my girls' success and happiness becomes like a high-wire act. But I don’t attempt to control every facet of their lives because that would be like trying to teach a cat to fetch — a futile endeavor.
This is where I feel strongest about my parenting skills. I allow my daughters to, within reason, fail and get hurt. I’m not always hands-on and I preach being independent. That, in and of itself, disqualifies me from being a helicopter parent.
Future Dreams for My Little Ones: My girls, two tiny music enthusiasts, groove to everything from Springsteen rifts to Miley Cyrus anthems. Sweet and caring, nonetheless their emotional rollercoasters make teaching the delicate balance between politeness and assertiveness comparable to crafting origami with a toddler — challenging but essential.
As I dream of my girls' future, the mantra is simple — chase happiness like it owes you money. Going against the norm isn't a plunge into the unknown; it's a leap into liberation. Whether they choose the scenic route or the expressway, I sincerely hope their decisions are guided by what feels right.
This is another spot I feel I have already backed off and instead, let them drive what their interests are going to be. Some have turned out to be much different than anything I’ve ever done before!
Adult Time Redefined: As the “going out clothes” gather dust, replaced by at-home hot tub dates and massages, the glamour of adult time persists. Concerts, breweries, and date nights still fill the calendar with quality time, laughs, and love. Just not as often, but they do happen.
So, am I a helicopter parent? Perhaps just a mini-copter, navigating the skies of parenthood with a compass of humor and the occasional turbulence of uncertainty. Parenting is a dance, and I'm learning the steps as I go, sometimes stumbling but always finding my way back into the rhythm of the chaotic melody.
Until next time, stay witty, stay sane, and remember, parenting is like juggling flaming torches — find your rhythm and embrace the occasional circus act. And to all fellow parents out there, may your skies be filled with laughter and your mini-copters stay aloft, even during the most unexpected turbulence.
Cheers to the wild ride!