Before I begin writing this, I want to make it VERY clear that I am not criticizing others, I am including MYSELF in this observation, for I am a self-professed helicopter mom.

I’ve learned to lay off a little as they’ve gotten older, but oooh-weeee! I wasn’t just a helicopter mom, I was a dangerously close to the ground, almost chopping off heads with my blades, helicopter mom.

I remember sitting in a parent-teacher meeting for my eldest when he was in pre-school, crying because 2 kids he really liked, didn’t want to play with him.

I cringe HARD at that thought now. I’m like, really, really embarrassed by that. I’d like to blame it on PMS or hormones or something, but I genuinely think that I believed this was the end of the world. The teacher definitely thought I was a complete loon.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still quite hover-y, but definitely not as bad as before. I’ve learned to step back a little and allow them to navigate life the way I did when I was a kid.

Seeing myself and the posts of people on the school Facebook page has caused me to examine the ways of today’s parenting, and I’ve come to this conclusion: we love our kids too much.

That doesn’t sound like a problem, right? It is.

Maybe love isn’t the right word. I’m changing it to: we CARE too much.

Again, bad.

Lol loved and cared for me and Teara just as much as we love and care for our boys, but her generation, whether consciously or sub-consciously, knew when to reign it in.

Parents today are made to feel as though every free moment should be spent entertaining their children.

I don’t recall Lol playing with us, ever. And that’s not a bad thing. My memories of her mostly revolve around food – shocker! She was always in the kitchen.

I’d be in the den watching TV and screaming, “I want that!” about every Hasbro and Mattel item that graced a commercial break. She’d respond with a lackluster, “Ok…” as she stirred the spaghetti sauce.

She wasn’t overly obsessed with screen time either. Granted, back then the only screens were on the television and the back door, but there was no such thing as limits.

If I got bored I’d ask if I could call for my BFF/neighbor Christine. When she’d said yes, I’d beg her to come with me because I was afraid of Christine’s Doberman Pincher, Rex who would bark at me like he was going to tear me from limb to limb when I rang the doorbell. She always said no and I’d chicken out and go play Barbies upstairs by myself or annoy Teara.

Today, it’s all about the God-forsaken play date.

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

There are 2 things I hate more than anything in life: talking on the phone and in-person small-talk. Playdates encompass both.

Thank the good Lord that my kids have neighborhood friends. I can throw their asses outside and go lay on the couch and listen to my book and play 1010 and talk to NO ONE 🙌

If this was 1986 with 2022 parenting, not only would Lol have called my neighbor to set up the play date, she’d walk me over to the house and ring the doorbell for me.

Then when Rex acted like he was going to eat us for lunch, she would politely decline the invitation on account of the scary dog. We would go back to my house and she would make me a snack as we’d discuss my dog phobia at length.

This is in no way, shape, or form a criticism of my mother’s parenting. She was normal. I am not.

Myself and other parents are so worried about each stage of our children’s lives that we are smothering them.

They will not know how to get through life if we don’t lay off.

I ask about their days and then we discuss in minute detail about what they’re going through and how to handle it.

Do you think Lol & Pa gave a shit about every little thing that happened to me in junior high? (That’s what it was called back in my olden days, not middle school.) No, they did not.

I did not tell them that the boy in my Home Ec. class snapped my bra and gave me purple-nurples on a daily basis.

I did not tell them that I accidentally threw my retainer out almost every day at lunch and had to dig through the garbage to retrieve it (because Lol would’ve killed me – retainers are expensive!)

I did not report back every food item I consumed that day because, believe it or not, they didn’t give a flying fuck if I ate pizza or chicken nuggets. (I don’t care about this either but for some reason, PJ asks the kids every day.)

The poor internet gets blamed for everything these days, but in this case, it’s true – it’s the internet’s fault.

Recently there has been some backlash from moms and dads who are sick of the nonsense, but in 2008, when I had my first son, the internet was even faker than it is now.

It was the dawn of all the social media sites and articles featuring “perfect” moms with their “perfect” children and their “perfect” parenting.

Everyone was trying to out-perfect each other, and we all got just a littleee too involved in our children’s lives.

As a result, every heartache is now dissected, and it causes major anxiety within the child and the parent.

The kids would probably have a much better chance of quickly and easily resolving their problems – while also honing their life skills – if they didn’t tell mom and dad about it.

Now mom is involved and obsessed that her baby is upset and it becomes a vicious co-dependent cycle of problem=comfort.

Again, I am speaking for myself here. I’ve lost many nights of sleep worrying that my child has no one to play with at recess. I’ve learned to let it go and let him figure it out on his own.

It doesn’t sound or feel like it, but I’m doing him a favor.

Lol was there for me when I needed her. She would know if something big happened. But every little insult and heartbreak was not reported to her and we were both better for it.

And as I always like to remind myself – Look! I survived!!