Helicoptermom

The helicoptermom. She can’t leave her kids be. She’s always lurking, lingering, watching them, playing along on the playground. What an absolute–ly good mother.


I just realized recently how much the term “helicopter parent” infuriates me. Are we really at a point in society where we shame parents for paying attention and staying involved? But if her child gets abducted from a family BBQ or falls into a zoo enclosure the first thing everyone will be asking is, “where were his parents?” 

Tell me I’m wrong.

I’ve had plenty of people throw the term helicoptermom in my direction, and all jokes aside it half applies. At home, my kids play plenty with and without me. In public, you can bet your bottom dollar I’m closer to them than you are. We have a standard rule that goes, “who could get to you faster? Me, or a stranger?”


On playgrounds, we don’t leave the woodchips – because I have three children to keep an eye on and scanning a small area is easier than scanning a whole park.

At the beach we don’t leave moms side – because rushing water, waves and currents act a heck of a lot faster than I might be able to spring into action.

In a store we remain in the cart or next to the cart – because kidnappings happen and shopping centers are busy places.


I give my children space, room to grow and the ability to make their own decisions and mistakes. But no one will be asking, “where were his parents?” about my kids – because I am always right there.

Sincerely,
The Helicoptermom.

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