Please don’t let me be a helicopter mom…

A couple weeks ago, my kid came home from daycare with a black eye. I saw him, and rushed to his diaper bag to get the “Ouch Report.” They send them home with him every time there’s an incident when he gets hurt. I read it; apparently he was napping when it happened. The people working put him in his crib, and he slept while another toddler stood outside of his crib throwing legos around. He threw one and hit my sweet boy in the face. My first thought: WHY IN THE FUCK ARE THEY LETTING KIDS THROW LEGOS?

All I wanted to do was march back to daycare, scream at the providers, and punch that toddler in the face. But we all know that isn’t a realistic solution. So instead, I fumed for a while, and then sat trying to justify why it happened; what else could have been going on at the daycare, and finally came to the conclusion that it was an accident.

Two weeks pass. The eye heals. All is well.

Yesterday, I came home to see a huge scratch across the SAME freaking eye! Again, I rushed to the diaper bag to get the “Ouch Report.” There wasn’t one! WTF?!!! So I start questioning my husband. Supposedly it was Oliver’s fault. He took another kid’s binky, and the kid wanted it back. So that apparently gave the other kid permission to gouge my kid’s eyeball out! Makes sense… not.

So why am I posting this?

I read a book once that talked about helicopter parents. “A helicopter parent is a parent who pays extremely close attention to a child’s or children’s experiences and problems. Helicopter parents are so named because, like helicopters, they hover overhead.” They say (whoever they are), that the affects it can have on your child are terrible. They never learn to make decisions. They never learn to stand up for themselves. And they never learn to navigate life as an independent person. Because they always have their helicopter.

All I want to do is protect my little boy. From anything and everything. Other children, sharp corners, grass, cold water, sun, and everything in between. But I keep telling myself I can’t do that. And the fact that he’s a boy makes everything ten times worse. He’s a bruiser. And he’s trouble already at 1 year old. Tomorrow is his first birthday, and I am so scared and excited at the same time to see what’s in store for us in the year to come.

Whatever it is, please God, don’t let me beat up any toddlers. Please don’t let me be a helicopter mom!


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