Helicopter Parenting

I have often heard 'helicopter parenting' said as a negative. It seems that parents either ARE helicopter parents, or they strongly dislike them. 

In case you haven't heard the term before, 'helicopter parenting' is used to describe parents who 'hover' over their kids, being over-protective of them.

I am the type of parent who is not your typical definition of a helicopter parent. If my child is brave enough to climb somewhere high, swing from that bar, ride really fast, etc. I let them. As long as they are safe (i.e. not playing on or very near a road), I think that courage is learnt through play.

But there is one area that I absolutely will 'hover' over my kids... and that is bullying. 

I CANNOT (note the capital letters) stand bullying. 

My sons are 3.5 and 1.5 currently. They have already been the recipients of bullying. Fortunately, they are fairly clueless about the idea of being nasty for fun. But the eldest is just starting to realise when other kids are being mean to him, and their words are beginning to affect him. 

We were at a playground earlier this week and there was a 'pack' of six boys approximately 6- or 7-years-old being led by the apparent pack leader to 'pick on' any other kids in the area. When we arrived, my boys naturally joined in, trying to play with them, but they were quickly ejected from the group.

"You aren't our friend."

"You can't play with us."

"Don't go near those boys. They are just silly babies."

"Don't share your cars with THEM."

Their body language and voice tone were mean. 

Z (1.5yo) laughed and chased them, thinking it was a funny game.

L (3.5yo) slowly withdrew and sat on the outside of the playground. 

I asked him if he was ok, and did he want to talk. He looked crestfallen as he said that he was fine and he didn't want to talk. 

I asked him if he would like a hug and he again said that he didn't.

After a while he came closer to me and asked, "Why do they keep saying I am a silly baby?"

I replied him, "I don't know why. But is it the truth? Are you a silly baby?"

"No!" he replied. "I am not a silly baby."

We talked some more and he did go back to play eventually.

But I sat there with a storm inside me. 

Why is it ok for us as parents to sit back and allow bad behaviour to be normal and excuse it as 'kids just being kids'? Since when do they get to set the moral standard for playground behaviour? How do children learn that it is ok to tease, belittle and be nasty to other children? What kind of adults will they grow up to become? Why are we so paranoid about cleanliness but negligent when it comes to character?

As parents, we need to recognise the difference being over intervening, and allowing bad behaviour to run riot. 

So my sons are #wildandfree. They climb on things. They dig the dirt. They jump off stuff. 

But if they ever DARE to bully, name call or hurt another child, I will be 'on' them quicker than they can imagine. The world has enough hurtfulness. I don't want to raise children to be adults who contribute to it. 

An Ache of Motherhood

One of the most painful experiences of motherhood, is watching your children come face-to-face with the ups and downs of relationships.

This morning, we were at a playground. Levi has been slowly getting to know these slightly bigger boys, who are about 5-years-old. But today, Levi was the 'annoying smaller kid' who was wrecking their game. My precious, but not perfect, 3-year-old was sincerely trying to play with them. But he just didn't get what they were doing. 

I know these other boys from our many playground trips. I've met their parents and have had conversations with the helpers/maids who watch over them. They are not bad kids. One of the boys in particular, is actually quite sweet. 

But today, they 'ganged up' on Levi. They chased him, pushed him, called him names. I watched Levi process what was happening. At first he thought it was funny, just a new way of playing. But slowly I saw him realise that they were not actually being nice to him, and I both saw and felt the change of emotions in him.

I teared as I thought about humanity at large. We are so quick to reject what annoys us. How can I blame these bunch of kids for rejecting my son, when we adults lack the self-control and compassion to embrace those who are different?

When someone 'stomps' all over my 'game', my agenda, my preferred way of relating, my defences come up and I react, trying to protect whatever is mine: my rights, my choices. 

Today, I cried for Levi but I also cried for us all on both sides of relationships. 

As he came running to me, looking for comfort, snuggling into my side, I thought about our Father God, the ultimate parent. If I feel like this, how much must He feel in His amplified love? 

I prayed that my boys would grow to embrace others'. I wish that they would enjoy the differences, to have curiosity and not to shun. May they be a part of changing the way we humans relate to each other.