I am that mom, the helicopter mom who constantly follows her child around the park.
The one that makes you roll your eyes at the worried look on my face if I lose sight of my child for a split second. Just getting to the park took a ton of energy. We had to fight his anxiety. Just getting him out of the car was such an accomplishment.
To you and your friends I seem overprotective. At first glance you might even think that I should let him be more independent, but for us going to the park is not as basic as it is for you.
I mentally scan the area to make sure Isaac doesn’t run away, because he would have run without hesitation if the gate had been open. My attractive boy has no sense of danger; he loves watching cars go by and wouldn’t hesitate to run in front of a car he likes just to get a closer look.
I’m here too, watching his body movements carefully. Checking to make sure he’s not overstimulated, because that could mean he could start attacking other children nearby.
I listen to everything that’s happening around me.
I try to pick out sounds that might make him feel overwhelmed. As we walk, I constantly check the ground for something Isaac might put in his mouth, because he will do so without even thinking about the dangers.
I listen to the sounds he makes so I know when to move him to something else – because his irritated scream means he’s getting possessive of the swings. I try to keep him peaceful so he doesn’t have a meltdown because I don’t want my child being watched by adults who should know better.
I don’t want to explain that he’s not having a tantrum. That he’s actually communicating with me in the only way he knows how. I don’t want him to get to the point where he loses all control in a place that doesn’t feel secure.
I don’t want him to suffer in a way that I can’t fix, no matter how difficult I try. So I’m going to do everything in my power to prevent that. I want him to have the best time possible, so I’m right there by his side. Making it a little easier for him.
This means I can share in all the magical moments.
I can watch his whole face delicate up when he smiles and listen to his giggle every time the swing comes towards me. I can clap every time he reaches the top of the climbing frame. Cheer him on as he goes down the slide.
This means that every time he looks back, he sees my face and he knows for sure that mommy will always be there for him.
