Helicopter mom. If you’re a millenial parent, then surely you’ve heard the term. Those of us bestowed with this less than charming title are given it because we tend to “hover” over our children in public, swooping in to rescue them at the first sign of danger.
Venture over to any public playground and you will see a clear division between two types of mothers – the “heli’s” – those who helicopter, and the “non-heli’s” – those who don’t.
I am a “heli”, a self-proclaimed helicopter mom.
I am my children’s shadow. You will never catch me warming a bench when I take my daughters to the park. You will never see me looking at my cell phone as they play on the swings. I stand at attention, practically on top of my girls, nervously wondering if I made the right decision to allow them to climb a ladder to reach the top of the slide.
Other moms sit in judgement of me. I can hear them at the park. “Why don’t you just let them play by themselves?” “C’mon, she’s a big girl, she can do it.” “Are you a pilot, because you sure do like to fly that helicopter?”
They have no idea why I “need” to be right next to my daughters – because they don’t know my blindness only allows me to see about 10 to 15 feet in front of me.
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These judgmental parents have no clue what it took for me to pack two…
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