Currently running in the February Issue of Bella Magazine

One of my teen boys just requested that I stop smothering him. Ah, is that what I have been doing? All these years I thought I was mothering. Mothering…smothering. When did I cross the line?

I’ve heard of helicopter parenting but never imagined that the phrase applied to me. Helicopter parents hover around, consider their children as extensions of themselves, and are uncomfortable with letting them feel pain or allowing them to fail. Ouch, does that apply to me? If it does, I can tell you it is not a genetic trait in my family. I was raised by distinctly non-helicopter parents. I can still remember grade school when it was first obvious to me that the other kids were getting a lot of help from their parents. Their projects were shiny and fantastic and mine were put together with spit and an old shoelace. Yet I still remember being proud because I did it myself. (Okay, and a little jealous of the pizzazz that the parents brought to a project.) Dear friend Amy told me that when her first-grader Justin was assigned the task of making a community building, such as a post office or grocery story, Justin got a shoebox and some crayons. His dad, however, put his genius and engineering degree to work and produced, as Amy recalls, “the Smithsonian.” Kid gets an A but Dad gets an F. I can hear the helicopter blades whirring from a distance.

When we had toddlers, I met my first afflicted mother. We were invited to dinner at a home where the family’s youngest child was getting ready to graduate from high school. Her mother confessed, “I am so ready for this. I’ve been doing homework for the last twenty years.” Innocently, I naturally assumed that she was enrolled in an excruciatingly slow graduate program. I inquired what degree she was pursuing. “My kids’ high school degrees!” she exclaimed. She explained how she personally dragged each of her children through high school. This destroyed my fantasy about the vacation time I would enjoy when my little bundles were in school. I realized that this mother was what the educators refer to as a Blackhawk, the most hovering of all helicopter parents. I thought she was a bit wacked and resolved I would never be anything like her.

Alas, this fall I found myself in a teacher’s conference for one of our sons and to my horror and surprise, I wept throughout the conference. Although I admit it was a very tender time of the month for such a conference, even I was shocked when I could not staunch the tears. (I didn’t know I cared that much!) Dear Dave, father and husband of the year, took me out for a fancy breakfast at Famous Anthony’s afterwards. He grabbed my hand, gazed in my eyes and said gently, “Can you explain the tears to me?” I had to confess to him (and now to you, dear readers) that everything I heard about our precious son’s failings felt like a knife in my heart. I irrationally felt that the critiques were aimed at me …and me alone. I was being judged and found wanting. Just so you know, this is the primary symptom of Helicopter Parenting.

Wise Dave, who has earned every one of the considerable gray hair on his head, had to set me straight. “Martie, you have not missed any homework assignments! You are the mom, not the student.” Oh, what glorious words. He’s right…again. We all know that if it had been my assignment, I would have handed it in early and near perfect. And if I were the student, my parents would not have known the topic, the due date, or how I did on any of my tasks until the report card came home. Ah, the good old days.

Helicopter parenting is a relatively new phenomenon where baby boomer parents have Gen Y kids and they can’t seem to let them succeed (or fail) without getting psychopathically involved. This is most often seen, ironically, with college students. Many universities have recently created a new position called Dean of Parents. I’m not kidding. This dean is solely responsible for keeping the helicopter parents from landing on campus.

Danny’s comment to stop smothering him really got me worried. The tears at the conference shocked me as well. So I did what any thinking person would do. I Googled Helicopter Parenting. As with everything, there is a quiz you can take to see if the term (condition, syndrome, illness) applies to you. Here are some sample questions:

1. When your child is having difficulty in school, do you contact the teacher?
2. How often do you contact the teacher?
3. Are you nice when you contact the teacher?
4. Do you threaten the teacher?
5. Have you ever been asked to leave the school building?

I was so relieved. I passed. I am not a Helicopter Mom. Come to think of it, my kids would say I’m more of a steamroller.