And there's another phrase that goes with "helicopter parenting":
They didn't do all of this stuff when we were kids, and we turned out fine!
Yeah, except for the those of us who didn't turn out fine, or died.
But nevermind the drama of that retort. The fact is that our world is different today. Sure, I was allowed to ride my bicycle all over my neighborhood, but everyone in the neighborhood knew my parents, and knew me, and kept an eye on all the kids. That was the deal in the 1970s. But our society is more transient. My husband is the longest resident on our street and he's been here only 10 years. Our society is more atomized. We do not live where we work and so we do not engage in our communities the way people used to do.
I barely know my neighbors. There's the Indian family down the street, whose son we refer to as Kevin Ganpoor after the character in Mean Girls ("I'm a mathlete, so nerd is inferred"). There's the Cheerleader Mom. There's the guy who never says "hi," whom we see only smoking and walking his Westie (such an adorable dog with such a prune of a man). The man and woman across the street we know a little bit, but they're older with grandkids. And our next door neighbor is a nice single guy who refers to what is obviously his girlfriend (from the amount of time her car stays parked in front of his house) as his "friend."
We don't really have real friends in our neighborhood, and I don't think we are unusual in that regard. So pardon us if we're a little less likely to send our kid out alone into this sea of virtual strangers once he's bicycle-age.
I barely know my neighbors. There's the Indian family down the street, whose son we refer to as Kevin Ganpoor after the character in Mean Girls ("I'm a mathlete, so nerd is inferred"). There's the Cheerleader Mom. There's the guy who never says "hi," whom we see only smoking and walking his Westie (such an adorable dog with such a prune of a man). The man and woman across the street we know a little bit, but they're older with grandkids. And our next door neighbor is a nice single guy who refers to what is obviously his girlfriend (from the amount of time her car stays parked in front of his house) as his "friend."
We don't really have real friends in our neighborhood, and I don't think we are unusual in that regard. So pardon us if we're a little less likely to send our kid out alone into this sea of virtual strangers once he's bicycle-age.
Of course, maybe by the time he's on a bicycle, we'll know these folks better. Maybe raising a child hooks you into the community in a way that simply living in it does not. But at the rate people move into and out of the neighborhood, I am skeptical that I'll ever be more than "hi neighbors" with them.
Still, it's not just the personal mobility of children that's changed since I was a child. After The Boy was born, we were terrified by the folks at the hospital to such a degree that we feared that any tiny misstep would kill him. The nurse who wheeled me out to the car on the day we were released to go home, gravely instructed me, "You sit in the back seat with the baby." I hadn't had any other thought but to do that, but her tone conveyed that even a short car trip without an adult in the backseat was a tragedy-in-waiting. It was six weeks before either of us took The Boy anywhere on our own because there would be no one to sit in the back seat with him. And, even now, when we all go out, I still sit in the back seat with him, even if it's only a ten minute drive.
And maybe that's a good thing. Start the parents off with an attitude of maximum caution and allow them to learn and gain confidence. At seven months, I no longer live in constant terror that I may damage The Boy permanently. I'm still cautious, of course (he's my BOY), but I am confident enough to break the rules now and again . . . . Sometimes, he gets to sleep with his Paddington lovey even though we are cautioned not to put stuffed toys into his bed because they are a suffocation hazard. If it's the only thing that will calm him down, he gets Paddington.
Personally, I am thankful for the carseats and the pads for sharp table corners, the BPA free plastic, the toys with no small parts, the cabinet and toilet locks, the swaddle blankets and sleep sacks. I am even thankful for the warnings that scared us to death in the first few weeks. I'm happy that my baby's world is safer than the world was for me. I am glad that the world cares, on some level, whether he lives or dies. It's called progress. All the products and the warnings won't save him from every potential harm. His dad and I know that we still must be watchful. But it sure helps.
Personally, I am thankful for the carseats and the pads for sharp table corners, the BPA free plastic, the toys with no small parts, the cabinet and toilet locks, the swaddle blankets and sleep sacks. I am even thankful for the warnings that scared us to death in the first few weeks. I'm happy that my baby's world is safer than the world was for me. I am glad that the world cares, on some level, whether he lives or dies. It's called progress. All the products and the warnings won't save him from every potential harm. His dad and I know that we still must be watchful. But it sure helps.
