Photo by Technologik
Yesterday morning, at about 7 a.m., I was heading up I-57 toward Chicago, sitting shotgun as a fellow third-grade mom drove and another mom chatted with us from the backseat. We were making our way through a torrential downpour, at a speed that felt safe without being too safe, when a charter bus whizzed by us in the passing lane.
“Um, that bus was going pretty fast for the conditions,” the mom next to me said.
“Wasn’t that one of our buses?” asked the other mom, from the back seat.
It was. I instinctively hoped our daughters were on the other bus. Then I felt terrible—both buses were filled with precious third and fourth grade children from our neighborhood elementary school. I also felt slightly ridiculous. Were they really in danger, any more than they ever are? And do I really think I can protect my children by worrying?
As parents, we worry anyway. There doesn’t seem to be much we can do about that, other than periodically talk ourselves—and each other—down from the brink of panic and helpless misery.
I guess it’s a natural feeling, though. Somehow, when I’m the one behind the wheel of the car transporting my own flesh and blood to our destination, at least I know what’s at stake. Your crazy love heightens all your senses, and your awareness of potential dangers.
That’s exactly why I felt relieved, when we all reached Chicago’s Field Museum, that I had offered to chaperone. I had some control over my daughter, and five of her friends. They would always be in my range of sight.
As it turns out, that was only partly true.
As a parent, you’re never completely in charge
The Field Museum was extra crowded and chaotic with end-of-the-year field trips. The exhibits are mostly dark, winding and complex, with many offshoots, side rooms, and “forks in the road.” At times, it feels a bit like a cornfield maze, except you’re in an Egyptian tomb, or you walk around a corner and see a pack of life-like, stuffed hyenas ready to attack.
There was so much to see and explore, it was silly to think of making them all hold hands and stick together like preschoolers. Each girl had their own idea of what looked interesting within any given exhibit, and each one explores that interesting thing at her own pace. (My daughter, for instance, was the only one in our group who wanted to read everything. Sigh.)
More than once, I was frantically scanning the dim rooms and looking around corners, trying to locate all six children in my charge. And suddenly it occurred to me—it would be SO easy to lose track of a child at the Field Museum.
Learning to let go, a bit at a time
Five hours later, though, everyone was accounted for. After we put the 100+ kids on the two buses, I went back into the museum to buy an iced tea, put my feet up on a chair, and gaze at Sue the T-Rex’s hindquarters. I needed to decompress—to let my defenses down and get used to being responsible for just me again.
It was a very good feeling.
And as I sat there, I realized that while nine is still very young, S and her classmates are learning a lot about how to be responsible for themselves, too, and for one another. They’re at that age where they need to explore around dim corners. They need to see what an oasis in the middle of an African dessert might look like. And then they need to trust themselves to find their way back to a safer place, where they can catch their breath before setting off to explore whatever’s next.
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{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }
This is such a poignant post getting at an issue all parents face about boundaries and control. My older daughter is 6, and we’re getting to those questions of where can she ride her bike without us, how far can she go, who’s house she can go in. Part of it is safety, sure, but it’s also for our own comfort–if we can see her, we don’t have to worry as much. It’s hard to let your kid out of sight to explore wherever she wants to go, but like you say, they need to explore and learn on their own.
Our children are capable, and need to re raised as capable. We give them the tools, and provide the safe haven. In turn they journey into adulthood with confidence and ability. I enjoyed your tweets yesterday as you advanced through the day, field trips are an experience all on their own.
This post reminds me of why in nine years of elementary school, I haven’t ever chaperoned a field trip. Our field trips are similar 8-hour long-days to Minneapolis museums and other adventures that leave everyone exhausted.
A funny incident happened as my daughter prepared for one, a number of years ago. After I dropped her off at the school, I went home and found she’d forgotten her lunch. I drove back, only to pass the bus on its way out of town. I drove after the bus until I made it came to a stoplight. Then I jumped out and literally ran after the bus. It sped up and never saw me. I jumped back in my car and followed, again, only to be left behind, wanting to save my child the misfortune of going without lunch, but unable to do anything to help her.
I went home and cried on the floor about how she was setting off on an adventure “to explore around dim corners” without me, and part of that new found responsibility was feeling the good and bad that goes with freedom. An important step in parenting that has left me able to let them now explore.
Letting go is a hard concept for me. Some might consider me a bit of a control freak…I’m sure they’re wrong.
What I love about this, though, is the reminder…life is such a journey, and the growth – if you let it – never stops. We learn as many important lessons as our kids do through this process of child-rearing. Some of them seem to be opposite…we have to let go, they have to accept greater responsibility. Others are so similar…we all explore new territory and learn something about ourselves, about our capabilities, and our limits.
But I think that’s the key to maintaining healthy, loving relationships with our kids for a lifetime. Recognizing that we have as much to learn from them as they do from us. And making sure they know it.
One of my favorite parts of being a parent is the balancing . . . and the nudges of information. . . “You know, if you want to climb on that [fill in the blank of something not really supposed to be climbed upon] you can, but if you fall, it just might hurt.”
Balanced with, “Get down from the top of the wooden swing set now.” [There is no negotiation because one fall now probably means a trip to the ER for some stitches.]
Drawing the consequence lines – some you can experience (and learn first hand today), others we ought to wait for another day.
Letting go is difficult no doubt, but it is something we have to do… release the hand, a single finger at a time. You are a beautiful mother, Kristin. You should be proud.
I just found your blog, and I can completely relate to this post. Unfortunately, the worry never goes away as they age. I have an 18 yo. daughter who is going to Japan next month for 2 weeks and I am having some major anxiety over it. Thank you for your post, you talked me down.
Jason, that’s such a good point—part of what we’re doing by creating boundaries and maintaining control truly is for our kids’ safety, but another part of it is clearly about us, as parents. We want to feel in control for peace of mind, even if it’s a peace of mind that’s often false. You’ve inspired me to begin asking myself in these situations “How much of this is about my kids, and how much of it is about me?”
Trina, this is a truth to keep in mind: “Our children are capable, and need to re raised as capable.” A big part of my job, as a mom, is to bolster the confidence my kids need to tackle problems rather than panic when plans go awry.
TJ, your story about chasing the bus made me laugh and want to cry at the same time! I can SO imagine myself in the same situation, feeling desperate to rescue my daughter from the sadness/embarrassment/disappointment of not having her lunch. Part of the reason I still pack my kids’ lunches rather than having them do it themselves is that it serves as this point of connection and care in the middle of the day. But you’re right—we can only do so much. There is good and bad that goes with freedom.
Jeb, I’m sure you’re not a control freak! :) You point out something really important, though. As parents, I’m sure none of us would argue with the fact that we regularly learn a lot about ourselves and life through parenting. But it’s so natural to think we should hide that process from our kids, and pretend like we have everything under control. I love how you put this: “Recognizing that we have as much to learn from them as they do from us. And making sure they know it.”
Dave, yes, parenting is a great occupation for those who love subtly and are adept at creating balance. :) Unfortunately, you also have to be quick at the draw. So many of those moments, when you need to draw lines, are presented in an instant (often a stressful instant). That’s the part that’s a challenge for me.
Writer Dad, “release the hand, a single finger at a time” is a lovely way to think about it. Thanks for the compliment, too. Our parenting efforts often go unrecognized by our broader community, don’t they?
Margot, I’m glad you found my blog, and that I could “talk you down” from your worries about your daughter! I admire any parent with teenage kids—especially those going on adventures to far-off lands. I know that day will come for me, and I’m not sure I will respond as bravely as you. (It’s exciting to think about what an amazing experience this trip will be for your daughter, though, isn’t it?)
I’m over the top when it comes to protecting my kids. I do try to walk that balance between not embarrassing them but still feeling comfortable. (I draw the line with bike helmets–an absolute must). When I look back at my childhood though, I can’t help but feel either like a hypocrite or that my parents were incredibly negligent or that they just had less information at their fingertips to influence parental decisions. My oldest is 5 and I already have twinges of the long goodbye. For now though, I’ll do my best to keep them safe and enjoy the journey. Glad you made it through the experience.
Mark, yes, bike helmets are a must. It seems like most parents in our town feel the same way, so at least there’s nothing embarrassing about it to the kids. They’re all in the same boat. But when it comes to other freedoms and other safety precautions, I’m sure we’ll find more and more disparities between our approach and that of their friends’ parents. That’s the hard thing to explain to kids, isn’t it? Why some parents see things one way and other parents see them a different way. It’s also funny that you bring up how much freedom we all had as kids growing up in the 70s and 80s. Jason and I were talking about that, and I planned to include it in this post but felt like it would quickly become too long and complex (sort of like my response to you!).