I’m like the Mercedes Benz SLS of motherhood
It’s no secret Amara and I have a special relationship.
We’re no typical mother-daughter duo. She’s been one of my best girlfriends since she was four-days-old shopping at the mall with me. And even though she’s now in the third grade, nothing has changed. I value her opinion. I trust her. She trusts me. I keep no secrets. I have one rule: if she asks, I answer honestly. I guess that comes from years of heartache, death, and everything good in between.
So it irks me when my hands-off parenting style is questioned, especially by others. Hello? Keep hovering over your own kids instead of over me, will ya? Back the heck off!
These helicopter parents – or [ahem] grandparents - can justify their children’s actions no matter what. And they allow their kids to be lazy. Why pick up after yourself if Nana’s just going to do it for you? Ugh.
What’s the opposite of a chopper? Me. Or some ground vehicle like a car. (Of course, I chose the Benz SLS because I have to be hot, sleek and perhaps sometimes with the top down. I'm no Yugo!)
When Amara does wrong, my daughter knows it. I won’t stand for it. It’s part of making her a contributing, responsible member of society. I want her to be mindful. I want her to be philanthropic. I want her to be loving.
But some people want to defend some of Amara's bad actions. No, she's not doing anything horrible or illegal. But that's not the point. I just want to speed off in our "Benz" so she doesn't have to listen to all the excuses. I don't want her defended. I want her to just be her. And I want her to grow from lessons learned.
Or maybe it's not an action. Maybe it's buying 20 of the same shirt but in different colors because she "looooooves" it. That may be an exaggeration, but not really. Does she really need to be indulged? She's eight and can barely dress herself in the morning. Exhibit A.
No matter what, it's so frustrating. I mean, who needs a helicopter? Most days, I'd be just happy having a bicycle.
So to all your helicopter types, I'm begging you, please, let your little (and not so little) ones grow up on their own. Let them learn their own lessons.
And while you're at it, leave me and my Benz the heck alone.