Mummycopter

I have come to suspect that I am a helicopter parent:

In the playground I follow my son around rather than sit on a bench with my iphone or magazine.

When we're shopping I enforce the “stay close to Mummy” rule rather than let him wander off in a shop to poke, taste and possibly break things which I don't want to pay for.

When we are waiting for the bus or train he knows he has to stay where I can see him and be well back from the road or tracks.

At parties I like to know where he is at all times.

If there is pool my watchfulness increases 100 fold.

Yes, I'm a helicopter. But I'm not embarrassed to be one and sometimes wish other parents would follow my view with regard to their kids safety.

Some of my protectiveness comes from the fact that my son has Ehlers Danlos Syndrom. He's more likely than other kids to lose his balance, fall, hurt himself, start bleeding and not be able to stop, dislocate something, or worse. He's only three so he hasn't learnt to think before acting and can't tell whether an action will lead to an accident. So I watch him around hazards like slides, jungle-gyms, stairs and swings. I've seen other mums roll their eyes at me when they see me following my son around, telling him to be careful and assisting him on difficult equipment. He looks normal, except for his skinny, low muscle tone, legs, flat feet and lanky body. But I don't care. Sometimes, when I see the rough behaviour and language that comes out of other kids at the playground, I wish those parents would take an interest in their kids' play.

When it comes to shops and public places my attitude has been moulded by my many years as a retail assistant (currently in a gift shop attached to an exhibition space). I get sick and tired of people letting their kids wander around shops unsupervised. I don't mind the touching so much because kids' learning can be very tactile, but I do mind the pulling of items off shelves, the throwing, stretching, ripping, trampling, licking, unwrapping, running, shouting, and breaking which goes on. Every week I see parents walk into the gift shop in which I work and make a bee line for the books in the back corner where they don't have to see or hear their children. Then, when I have to tell off said children for, as an example, throwing snow globes, the parents seem first surprised then affronted.

I also don't put my son on a lead, because he isn't a dog. I hold his hand. Sometimes he runs off but never far and he knows the rules. By asking him to stay close I'm teaching him self control and at the same time I'm training myself to go at his pace rather than dragging him around all the time. I have found that I want to see what he's exploring. What my children are interested in is important and I need to see that so that I can talk to him, play with him and share with him about things that he thinks are cool. I like talking to my kids and spending time with them and sticking together helps us do that.

Worse are the parents who send their children into the store alone while they go to the café. I send those children back to their parents because I don't allow kids in the shop unattended, and for good reason. Because it isn't just the destruction of merchandise on the table here, it's the reality of child molesters and abductors. They exist and when they see a bunch of kids in a busy shop they think they've hit the jackpot.

A lot of parents think I'm being ridiculous but it happens. It nearly happened in my shop.

Last week I had an angry mother confront me when I told her that her daughter could not go in to see an exhibition on her own. The mother was furious that her daughter was allowed to stay home on her own at night, could catch a bus on her own but wasn't allowed to wander around a public gallery by herself. She scoffed at my reasons, that her daughter could be vulnerable to predators, refused the free entry I offered her to accompany her daughter and walked off in a huff. I thought it best not to inform her that her daughter was only ten and can't legally be left at home alone at night until she's twelve. I could at least know that I wouldn't have that young person on my conscience if something had happened after I let her in on her own.

Attending parties combines the clumsiness with the stranger danger, really, and the fact that my son is really curious (as all good three-year-olds are) and there have been incidents with tablecloths and broken cups before. It's easier just to keep an eye on how he's getting along than to have to search for a dust pan and brush when his curiosity leads to a large crash.

Lastly, swimming pools, and really bodies of water of any size. It doesn't take a lot of water for a child to drown and it doesn't take long. When it comes to child locks, kids seem to have a real knack for getting them unlocked. I know one little girl who managed to get a pool gate open at the age of two-and-a-half, even though it was a double lock.

On the plus side, my son is petrified of water, has been since his first bath at two days old. He doesn't just run into pools and has never willingly gone swimming in the sea. The down side to this is that he cannot swim at all. If he fell into a pool or spa or fountain, he'd panic and have no skills to draw upon.
Hence the vigilance.

Helicopter parents get a bad wrap. Apparently we're breeding a generation of kids who don't take risks, have no initiative or independence, are dibber-dobbers, and rely too much on their parents.

I like to think that I'm teaching my kids to weigh up the risks, to try things when they feel ready but to not be afraid to ask for help when they need it, to tell me if anyone has said mean things or tried to hurt them in any way – too many kids keep silent about abuse out of fear that they will be told off as dobbers or just not believed, how heartbreaking is that? – and that their parents will love them unconditionally.

And in my “overbearing parenting” I'm also enforcing manners, courtesy and politeness and actually teaching my kids to be assertive when I demonstrate standing up for our rights in a clear but polite way. At least, that's how it seems to me.

Of course, I'm not interested in bullying my kids' teachers and care givers, doing their homework for them (when they start getting it), or spying on their Facebook pages and mobile phone messages (when they turn 16 and show that they're mature enough to have them). That's like Black hawk Helicopter parenting, darkening children's sunny skies with ominous shadows and an oppressive drone.

I like to think of myself as a nice helicopter. The kind with a large stash of band aids, ice packs and Arnica cream inside, and snacks and emergency changes of clothes. But still a helicopter.

One day I'll start to hover a bit further back, when my son understands that the people who push him and laugh at him when he hurts himself are just dumb thugs and not worth his emotional investment, when he learns to swim and understands the importance of water safety, when he really is old enough to go out unsupervised and is big enough to kick prospective abductors in the nads.

For now though, I've decided just to be a proud little Mummycopter.