Does This Make Me a Helicopter Parent?

The other day I took the kids to the lake, mainly because it was finally warm enough to do so. When we go to the lake, or a playground, we have an unspoken rule that if a sibling is playing with friends, the other siblings can join.  This is especially true if one sibling runs into friends and the others don't.

I hate it when kids exclude each other. When I was teaching, the fastest way to tick me off was to exclude other kids from games or conversations. I don't mean that I expect all kids to be best friends or that I think every kid in the class has to be invited to every birthday party. But, if you're playing in a public area? Everyone plays.

My personal parenting philosophy.

So. On this day, Lovebug ran into one of his friends. The friend was going to the playground adjacent to the lake and I let all the kids go there. When I (finally) got there, everything seemed fine. I did not see the parent Lovebug's friend was with (who was not his own), but that's not all that rare at playground. A lot of parents just stay on the beach while the kids play. 

Anyway, at one point I notice that Ironflower isn't with the other kids. She's off by herself and she looks sad. She says that Lovebug's friend has forbidden her to play because she's a girl. I tell her to just go play with them anyway. A few minutes later, she's off alone again, fighting back tears. The friend said he wouldn't play if she did, and she wanted to let her brothers play because they were having fun. 

I march over to the boys and start speaking to Lovebug. Ironflower jumps in and states that Lovebug stood up for her and Lovebug reassures me that he wants her to play. As I'm praising him for that, the friend states again, "No girls can play." 

I say, "We don't play that way. We let everyone play." 

And the kid looks at me and says, "Well, if she plays I won't play." Lovebug starts trying to cajole him into playing, basically begging him to play together. And the kid keeps repeating his stance. You have to admire his conviction, if nothing else. 

Poor Lovebug is in the middle, poor Ironflower feels awful and I decide it's time to leave. I tell Lovebug that we were only sticking around so that he could play with his friend (which is true - I love it when they run into friends at the lake or playground, it's so much easier than trying to organize play dates, plus, I don't have to clean my house) and since his friend won't include everyone, we're going to leave. And so we did. 

On the way to the car, Lovebug asked me if he could still have a play date with this kid. I explained that the kid's behavior had made me really unhappy and I just wasn't sure that a play date was a good idea. I don't know if he's a sexist little jerk at heart or whether he was just acting up because his mom wasn't there. Either way, it doesn't bode well for a play date. 

Hot Guy thinks I might have been a tad over-protective in this situation. What do you all think? What would you have done? Should I say anything to his mom?  I would want to know if my kid was acting that way. But I don't look forward to that conversation, either. 

Tell me what to do, great interwebz oracles. 

Stop Playing With Your Kids

Not you. I'm sure you play with your kids the right amount. I'm sure your kids can entertain themselves for an age-appropriate amount of time without having to stare at some kind of screen. I'm sure your kids don't rely on you to direct their play. I'm sure your kids are great.

But those other people? Need to stop coddling their children. 

Look, it's no secret that I'm not really into playing with my kids. Unless it involves a sand castle or a soccer ball or this odd game we play at the playground. I've recently had to step back from Legos and blocks, not because I don't enjoy them, but because I get a little too attached to my creations. But I'm not saying this as a parent, I'm saying this as a former teacher. 

Stop playing with your kids.

Recently I did a little Facebook stalking. Don't look at me like that - you've done it too. But maybe not with your now high school and college aged former students. Students that I used to watch play every day (okay, some days) at recess and every Friday during "Fun Friday". Little first and second graders who are now dating and going to college and whatnot.

I'm a little worried about the whatnot, but all the ones on Facebook seem to be hiding the whatnot rather well. Anyway, the kids who were best playing seem to be the most successful now. And by "best at playing" I mean able to take turns with toys, find something to do independently and not beg for the computer the entire time.

One of the boys I remember really well still looks so much the same. He's a kid who really struggled academically and his behavior wasn't the greatest. But when he did get to play at recess or on Fun Friday he was so happy and so capable. Now, even though his spelling hasn't really improved since the second grade, he has a job and friends and hasn't dropped out of school. That's incredibly significant when you check out the statistics on his classmates, even the ones who were more academically gifted than he was.

I know this evidence is anecdotal, not scientific. Here's a slightly more scientific article about motivating your kids. And one about the importance of play. And one about the importance of self-control. And an academic paper about independent play.

The thing is, when a kid relies a parent, baby-sitter or other caregiver for play all the time, the kid doesn't learn. The kid doesn't learn to entertain herself, to wait his turn, to share, to create or problem solve or exhibit self-control. And that makes teaching the kid SO MUCH HARDER. Really.

Plus, you know, someday your kids will have to function in the world without you. Why not let them practice when you're nearby instead of when you drop them off at school or college or their first job?

Since I'm Socially Inept. . .

I thought I would get advice where all socially awkward people get advice: the internetz. So. . .

Ironflower is my social butterfly. She makes friends wherever she goes and instinctively handles herself well in social situations. But she's also pretty sensitive, so when she first started talking about . . .um, let's call her Nastygirl. . .last year I didn't take it very seriously. Nastygirl told Ironflower that her Tinkerbell backpack was babyish. Nastygirl said her drawing was ugly. Nastygirl, it turned out, always had a negative comment for Ironflower.

I encouraged Ironflower to ignore Nastygirl, explained that she must be very unhappy. I eavesdropped on a playground conversation or two, wondering if my daughter had brought this on herself. But it sure didn't sound like it. As I got to know Nastygirl's mom, I was really surprised. Nastygirl's mom is really sweet. And seems to have no idea that her daughter hates my daughter. I didn't know how to bring it up and decided not to since Ironflower had other friends in her class.

I was incredibly relieved when they were put in different classes for first grade. It's not so much that Nastygirl was truly upsetting Ironflower anymore, but who needs a constant negative commentary? And I lived in fear of her nice mother suggesting a play date.

But naturally we've run into them twice now that soccer has taken over our lives. At the last game, Nastygirl laughed when Ironflower got hurt. And told her she wasn't any good at soccer. Ironflower is already a little self-conscious about her (lack of) soccer skills, so naturally this didn't help at all. I think at this point it's bothering me more than Ironflower, thought, the poor kid just expects Nastygirl to be, well, nasty to her. But I can't decide if I should say anything to Nastygirl's sweet mom, or just ignore the situation. If my kid was making comments like that, I would want to know. But Hot Guy and I are very big on our kids not turning into bullies or their minions, which I can't say for everyone around here. And honestly, I cannot imagine what I would say in this conversation, how I would say it or if I'm being a total helicopter parent.

What do you think, wise internetz?

Hey Neighbors, Are You the Jackholes, the Idiots or the Grossly Overprotective?*

Today's missive from the new Superintendent of Schools made me realize that it may be time for me to move the kids to a yurt in Mongolia.

We had a half day today because of the heat. It's 100 degrees, and most schools around here only air condition their offices (and doesn't that just say a lot about educational priorities?). So, you know, it's damned hot with 25 bodies per unair-conditioned room. The superintendent had to reassure the parents that they did not make this decision lightly. I suppose that was to appease all the jackholes bitching about how they went to school all day when it was a billion degrees, yadda, yadda. We also thought seat belts were  for flinging our action figures and that only Evel Knievel needed a helmet.

Then the superintendent had to promise us that our children would be allowed plenty of water breaks and would not do any strenuous physical activities. I guess that was to reassure the parents who believe that all teachers are dumbasses who would stage a dodgeball tournament on the hottest day of the year or something. Or maybe it was for the parents who never allow their children to experience any kind of discomfort or unhappiness.

Whichever the case, I really don't want my kids to mix with kids whose parents are jackholes, idiots or grossly overprotective. Those overprotective parents produce some mean-ass kids, let me tell you.

The superintendent didn't touch on the other issues I have with parenting in suburbia, but I'm sure he would have, if not for all the parents listed above. For example, he might have mentioned that even if you spent your last pay check buying your daughter 10 pairs of Ugg boots, you still shouldn't let her wear them to middle school on the hottest day of the year. Or he could have let them know that it's not cute when your 5 year old shakes his glass at the restaurant server instead of asking for a refill. Possibly he could just say, "Not all of your children are gifted. Or future professional athletes. Deal with it."

As much fun as it will be trying to figure out which parents the superintendent is trying to placate with each new letter, I'm thinking the yurt might be better for my children's future mental health. Herding the sheep (or is it goats? I confess my knowledge of Mongolia comes from a few reads through a children's atlas and one episode of House Hunters International) will teach them the value of hard work, being constantly at a linguistic disadvantage will make sure that they never become arrogant and if Ironflower wants to wear Ugg boots all the time, it will actually make sense.

*Do you think people would be offended if I asked them this at the next PTA meeting?

And I Thought I Was A Control Freak

I have just received Ironflower's 8 PAGE packet for her dance recital. Now, I might welcome the packet if it told me exactly what make-up to put on her or what to do with her beautifully unruly hair. I might welcome the packet if it laid out her 2 routines so that we could practice at home. I might welcome her packet if she wasn't in preschool. But instead I look at the packet and think, are you FREAKING SERIOUS?

I still don't know how to do her hair or her make-up. . .or even what her costume looks like (which doesn't really bother me because the recital is not until late May, but why not just include this info in the packet?). But I do know that we can't make our own DVD of the recital AND that it will cost us $40 to buy one. I also now know that I can purchase extremely over-priced bouquets and photos. Oh, and there's a complicated lottery system for ticket purchases. I have also read about the procedures for picking up my child after the performance and extensive details about the dress rehearsal.

I am also to provide non-staining snacks and toys for her use backstage.

Snacks????? Toys??????

You know what I did backstage during the myriad recitals and performances I was in?

I talked to my friends and I watched the other dancers. When I got older, I put on more make-up. And I didn't get to eat anything. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I also walked 2 miles up hill to school (actually, I would have done that, if my mom hadn't driven me to school most of the time) and survived just fine.

I am usually the person who stands up for the booster seats until they can drive (or whatever the rule is now),  helmets and bouncy playground surfaces. I'm reluctant to leave my children with a baby-sitter or for them to have playdates without me. I overanalyze everything (which you have probably noticed if you've ever read this blog before). In short, I am a modern parent.

But I think we've gone off the deep end where dance recitals are concerned. First come, first served seating is no longer good enough for today's families.  DVDs have to be professionally produced. Bouquets have be  big and expensive. Photos must be taken by an overcharging professional. Children must be entertained backstage. Packets must be sent home 3 months beforehand. All the spontaneity of live performance must be crushed.

I am so NOT cut out for helicopter parenting.

It's All Down Hill From Here

We enrolled Ironflower in preschool yesterday. I did not even tear up. She has been telling random strangers that she's going to school soon and her joy is infectious. I may feel differently when I actually have to leave her there, of course, but for right now I can't wait for her to go. She will thrive and I will only have to manage Lovebug at the park on those days. It's fun for everybody.

The paperwork involved was not as much fun. I did not mind writing our address, phone numbers and emergency contacts over and over again. Goddess knows I made enough parents do it when I was a teacher. But the personal questionnaire was harder. Having been a teacher, I was terribly afraid of writing anything that could prejudice the teachers in any way.

When it asked if I had any concerns, I did not mention that I worry that Ironflower will throw temper tantrums that shake the school. When it asked how much TV she watches, I did not mention the days she watches 3 shows, I only mentioned the days she watches 1. When it asked if she would need help in the bathroom, I did not explain how she will first have to be convinced that she needs help.

In short, I lied. On her preschool forms. I keep telling myself that this does not mean I will become one of those parents who fakes the reading logs or does the homework, but I'm not convinced. This is a slippery slope and I'm not wearing hiking boots.