Tag Archive | helicopter parenting

Launched

Summer is ending and everyone is heading back to their respective lives, so I’m getting nostalgic about what it was like when my now adult children lived under our roof. Here is a blog I just wrote for The Huffington Post about missing my daughter and her friends. And these are my thoughts, below, about sending my son off into the world.

Thirty two years ago, the summer after I graduated from the University of Michigan, I eagerly stuffed my used Ford Escort with my scant possessions and drove 10 hours to Washington, D.C. to start my first job as a paralegal. The position was intended as a one year stint while I decided whether to pursue journalism or law school. Within a few months, I landed a job with a publishing company and ended up spending six years in our nation’s capital, where I fell in love with the vibrant city and began my life as a journalist.

A few weeks ago, my husband and I packed our 13-year-old van full of our son’s possessions and drove him to the identical destination the summer after he graduated from our alma mater. He’ll be starting a position with a federal program assistant teaching in a Washington, D.C. school. Though history is repeating itself in our family, it didn’t quite strike me until the long drive, where I had plenty of time to contemplate how the years since leaving D.C. had quickly flown by. My husband and I were newlyweds there. As we traversed the hills of Pennsylvania, I was awash with memories: the first friends we made who we’re still close with today; jogging in the sticky summers after work; lingering over dinners where we regularly split a bottle of wine; and riding the crowded metro to the mall for July 4th fireworks.

When my son was deciding where he should apply for jobs, I immediately suggested Washington, D.C. We hadn’t visited much since we left, so he knew little of it, but agreed it was worth trying. Once we headed there, staying with our long-time friends, he realized it was the right decision. He was immediately put at ease meeting his six new roommates, others in the same federal program. On the same metro we once rode, I pointed out all the young people surrounding us. We headed out to a hip restaurant in a revitalized area near the baseball stadium that was buzzing with excitement. I saw his eyes light up the way mine had when I first moved here so many years ago. Though I ventured here solo, not knowing anyone except one friend from college, he was able to have his parents accompany him, and see this city through our eyes.

This is our second launch. Our oldest child packed up her belongings three years ago and headed to the East Coast to start her new life. She attended college two hours away and spent the summers there, so the transition was slightly easier; we were more accustomed to life without her. Our son’s school is located near our house. Though he lived on campus with roommates, we saw him often. We could hear the door opening late at night when he stopped by spontaneously, desiring a cuddle with our cat or dinner leftovers. We could count on him to join us for birthdays and holiday dinners, or stop by whenever he needed the car. With our youngest heading back to her college in North Carolina in the fall we will truly be empty nesters without the occasional companionship of our only son.

When you drop your child at college, it’s difficult and heart wrenching to let them go. Still, there’s some consolation in knowing they’ll return home for holiday stretches and long summer breaks. College doesn’t substitute for the home where they were raised. But launching them after that is so much harder. We’ve already booked our son airline tickets to join us for Thanksgiving, and since the school will likely be closed for a winter break, I presumed he’d be back in December. My husband doubted it. “Washington, D.C. is his home now,” he said. Indeed, I realized that, though I wasn’t quite ready for it to be so. After parenting children for 25 years, I still like to think of our time apart as merely temporary.

I understand this phase is healthy, that letting go of your child is necessary and a part of life. But the separation is bittersweet. Those post-college years truly represent the end of childhood, when your parenting work is mostly done, your influence on their lives limited.

Two days after we returned from leaving our son, we received a text. “I love it here,” he said. It was gratifying to know that though we will miss him, his transition is going well. And just a few weeks later, I had a just as satisfying experience, when I ran into a friend at the bank, as I was transferring my son’s last month of rent money for his college apartment to his account. “You’re witnessing history!” I said to her and the bank teller, reflecting on what hopefully will be the end of our 22-year financial commitment to our son.

My husband and I are trying to take comfort in developments like that and in the meantime will cherish the remaining three years we have with our youngest on her breaks from college. As I watched her pack this week, she talked about the next time she’d be returning “home.” I smiled, grateful that she still views the place she was raised to be that home. I’ll take that, for now.

 

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Resiliency In the Face of a 13-Year-Old

With the onslaught of articles on the perils of helicopter parenting, including this piece, and concerns that this will leave our children unable to forge on in the face of adversity, I was inspired to witness such strength and courage this past summer at the Bat Mitvah of a dear friend’s daughter. The world is a difficult place now. It seems there’s tragedy and unrest everywhere we turn, so to see this burst of sunlight, a young woman who gave me such perspective, was truly a privilege. I discussed the experience in this article that I wrote for The Huffington Post. As we go through our days, trying to maintain our sense of optimism and positive outlook, I think we could all do well to take a little of Mia’s spirit with us. I hope you enjoy the piece!

When Dealing With Your Child’s Teacher, How Much Is Too Much?

My freelance articles are the result of my developing a story idea and selling it to an editor or I’m assigned a story topic. I rarely turn down a story that an editor asks for, as the task of selling a piece is daunting. I spend much time in the sales and marketing venue and often am unable to convince editors to assign stories that I think are perfect. Two weeks ago, I was contacted by an editor of a new website. And she had a compelling story to assign. She wanted me to write an article providing advice for parents who want to forge the most positive relationships with their child’s teacher from the start. How can parents stay involved, yet not seem like they’re in helicopter mode? What situations do require intervention? What do teachers need most from parents in the way of support that leads to the best educational experience for their child? The result was this article, Best Parent/Teacher Relationships. The teachers I interviewed were grateful for the opportunity to share not only horror stories of what happens when parents overstep the appropriate boundaries, but also ways for them to intervene most helpfully. The takeaway: empower your children to advocate for themselves. In this era of many parents who probe every aspect of their children’s lives and often intervene to rescue them, it’s a valuable message.

The Recipe for Less Stress on Modern Parents? Relax

I’ve been intrigued with two new books focused on the challenges that modern parents face. I’m in the midst of reading Jennifer Senior’s book, All Joy and No Fun, which was featured on NPR recently. I feel a bit validated, as many of the issues women are facing today, and their problems, were highlighted by their own mothers in the book I wrote with Deborah Carr, Making Up With Mom: not enough “me” time and too much time invested in their kids. Senior says that women today are stressed, primarily because they’re in the service of their children. In our book, the mothers of these women complained that they brought the pressures on themselves. They don’t let their children entertain themselves. They should be less indulgent and less scheduled. They helicopter parent them until they lose the ability to be resourceful and self-sufficient. We wrote that these types of complaints were cause for a generational rift. I’m curious, if we went back, seven years after interviewing these mothers of young children, whether they would agree that Mom was right. In her book, Overwhelmed, also featured on NPR, Brigid Schulte, makes many of the same arguments that Senior does: that women today feel compelled, more than ever, to do it all, to be the perfect career woman and the perfect mom and in doing so, are super stressed.
When my children were young, I found myself on the same treadmill as those featured in both of these books. A type A person by nature, I scheduled my kids in scads of extracurricular activities, booking them with a lineup of summer camps that made them busy as a corporate CEO. With my oldest child, now 22, I was slightly obsessed with ensuring she get into a college with the most prestigious name. I poured money into standardized test tutors. I sweated over ever B that came home on a report card (though there were rarely any.) I worried about my kids’ welfare and their future. I worried about my job. But, listening to the authors on recent NPR interviews — who themselves are the parents of young children caught up in the rat race — I realize that I’m no longer that person. With the benefit of time, I have changed. Now the parents of three almost grown-ups: ages 22, 19 and 16, I have a very different view. I’m not obsessing. And I’m no longer overwhelmed. With my third child beginning the college search, I’m not focused on pushing her to apply to the most competitive schools. Instead, I want her to attend a place where she’ll feel comfortable and happy. She’s decided, to reduce her own stress levels, to apply to several schools where she has a strong chance of being admitted. That’s lifted the pressure on her to agonize over scoring high on the standardized tests. She’s bright, resourceful and delightful and I’m sure she’ll make the most of her education and be successful — wherever she goes. And I’m taking a cue from my oldest. As she embarked on babysitting before finding a full-time job, she remarked that the only qualification of a mother these days is to be a cook and a chauffeur. She sees the craziness of parents’ lives today and has sworn that she’ll do it differently. Should she have children, her time will not be spent in the car. A recent college graduate, she’s looking to surround herself with a community of supportive friends. Instead of slaving away at a low paying internship or punching a clock at a nine-to-five office job, she got a position on a farm. Money isn’t the priority for her; the chance to be outdoors in nature makes her far happier, at least for now.
If anything good is to come out the intense lifestyles of today’s middle-class parents, and their musings about the negative impact it has, it’s that our children will likely do things differently. I’m already seeing that in the millennials who are focused on meaningful passions and non-profit work, on changing the world for the better, on protesting round-the-clock hours spent at work, on leading a balanced life. This all makes a great deal of sense to me. Instead of getting caught up in such matters that ultimately will seem trivial: sports trophies, long discarded report cards and a bevy of college acceptance letters, my wish for my children is simple: to have people in their lives they love who love them back. That support can get you through the toughest of times. I’m sure that mothers today will continue to complain about how they’re falling short and how insanely busy their lives are. I hope that this discussion will ultimately lead to moderation, to giving kids — and with that adults — less to do, so they learn how to be bored and even work at a minimum wage job and perform household chores. In the end, these years will fly by and many of us will wish we spent less time agonizing over the challenges, and more time embracing the true joys that come with parenthood.

When We Rescue Our Kids, Are We Preventing Their Success?

 

I’ve been spending quite a bit of time reporting about the lives of millennials: their spending habits, their future careers and passions. In the course of researching a piece I’m now writing for The Fiscal Times, my sources have raised the issue of how boomer parents are afraid to see their children fail, and they routinely swoop in to rescue them. My recent conversations with life coaches are particularly illuminating. They say that parents are footing the bill for sessions with coaches to give them a leg up in the marketplace. But they don’t stop there. Marketing professionals tell me they know of instances where parents actually attend job interviews with their children. I presumed this would be a deal breaker for the young adult, but I was astounded to learn that this doesn’t cause employers to wince. They know they need to respond to the needs of this age group, which soon will make up the majority of the work force as boomers begin to retire. Boomers often felt detached from their own parents, rebelling against their way of life. And they’re committed to sparing their child from any undue hardship. Only a minority of parents I know insist that their teenage and college-aged children get a summer job to earn their own money.  I, too, find myself guilty of swooping in, occasionally intervening with teachers to explain why my child turned in an assignment late (even though there was no valid excuse), or making calls on their behalf to potential summer job employers. (I at least insist that they work). But the experts I’ve spoken with say that young people learn from failure — and struggle. That often gives them the resources they’ll need to stand out in the competitive job market. It has led me to wonder whether we boomer parents — myself included — should rethink the way we approach our children. Ultimately, in trying to save our children from failure, we could be making it harder for them to succeed.