I really hate to judge, but “Helicopter Moms” have always driven me totally crazy. I frequently roll my eyes at that mother who hovers over her children at the playground or a friend’s house, rarely letting them out of her site. The mother who has so many issues that her poor children aren’t allowed to have any good, old fun. How annoying are they?
I was pretty easy-going with Lily and by the time Evan came around, I was as mellow as jello. Whether the kids are at the park, the pool or playing with each other, I am able to totally tune out the chaos and noise, and just let the kids be kids. I think it’s better for everyone that way.
This summer, however, something changed. My children decided to actually… swim at the pool. To dunk underwater without the aid of floaties, vests or an adult. To kick their legs and pump their arms and actually move in the water. Gone were the days that they fearfully clung to me and were content playing under the fountain in the kiddie pool. And with those days, my peaceful afternoons in the water were over. They have become heart-stopping adventures as my elder children plunge confidently underwater for endless moments.
With them in the water, I am that annoying mother who holds my breath and can’t engage in a conversation because my eyes are glued solely on them. I grip the rail, palms turning white and heart rate quickened. I watch them, filled with a combination of pride and fear, realizing that I have become that mother I so despise. Only once they are draped in towels and headed home can I fully exhale.
I guess that Helicopter Moms aren’t so horrible after all. At least pool-side.