Sitting at the park surrounded with parents and their children, it is common to hear “don’t go too far”, “please don’t get dirty”, “apologize to your friend” or “we are going home now if you don’t stop.” Parents seem to continually work to help their child solve a problem of some kind, keep them safe and happy, or teach them a valuable lesson.
I had never thought of myself as a helicopter parent until one bright day last month, as I was walking my daughter to school, I noticed that she was walking in front of me further than she ever did (by the way, this physical distance has been getting greater with each passing year). And all I could hear myself say is “stay close”, “don’t go too far”, “slow down, you might fall” or “watch for the cars.” And as the low-grade panic was settling in, I have realized that this was it—I have become an overprotective mother, the one that strives to be ever-present, perfect, loving, and helpful, while at the same time slowly and quickly crossing the fine line between mothering and smothering.
I never realized how difficult it would be to always maintain the perfect balance of having your child sense your unconditional and overpowering love, while at the same time taming and keeping those same feelings in check. But isn’t the good mother supposed to be always present, an undying source of praise, love, positive energy and help? Isn’t the good mother supposed to shield and protect her child, carry the burden, take on the responsibility for their happiness?
When our children are young, we are there day and night, helping with each step, with each little bump in the road. We heal the fevers, kiss the booboos, chase away the nightmares, wash their little hands, and secretly cry when we leave them at preschool for the first time. The desire to see them happy, smiling and growing well is so powerful, that us mothers would often do anything to help make that happen. We offer help when it is not necessarily needed, we give advice when our young ones were on the way to discover it themselves, we continue picking their clothes so they don’t go into the world wearing colors that don’t match. We warn about dangers over and over again, we continue cooking breakfast even though they can pour their own cereal, we carry their backpacks, and we continue to fervently make their beds. While all of these are ways in which we hope to keep our babies safe and happy and to express our love and admiration—let’s consider that at times, less can be more during our lifelong process of mothering.
While I am definitely not suggesting that we discontinue the meticulous and lovely above-mentioned activities, I am advocating we take the time to figure out how much is too much, or in other words—when does mothering become smothering? I have come to believe that having faith in the love and care we have given to our children should take precedent at some point, where we can then just let them take a little bit longer to make their own bed or where we can encouragingly watch while they struggle with their homework for a while before offering help. Instead of constantly letting this enormous amount of love take over us, inspiring us to continuously hold and carry our children through life in order to protect them, maybe we should sooner rather than later put them gently down. And walk by them. Maybe we should at times encourage them with our silence, listen much more than we talk. Maybe we should allow them to fall, scrape their knees, so that they can learn to get up and dust themselves off. If we are always there to catch them, how are they ever going to learn that they are capable of picking themselves up? If we are quick to help with every trouble, we are sending them a message that they are unable to take on life on their own. If we are not allowing them to experience sadness, anger or frustration, how will they learn that these emotions are perfectly acceptable and can lead to curiosity and wonder, instead of necessarily a concern? When our child tells us “mommy, I can do it myself”, we need to believe them. We should feel proud and sit on our hands, rather than offer assistance and pose criticism. As mothers we can provide loving guidance without always rushing to the rescue, by patiently teaching consequences and encouraging independence. It is a painful task of motherhood to move from the front row that was all yours during the beginning years of your child’s life to the middle row, where you sit and trust that he or she would make the right decision (whatever that means…), learn from mistakes and ask for help when it is needed.
Trust and have faith that all of your acts of love are engraved inside of your child and are lighting his or her way—so that the next time they are walking too far in front of you, and as this distance continues to grow, you know that they will be the best they can be, hearing your voice inside of them and feeling your mothering heart.
