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Why I Don’t Hover Over My Children
Growing up, my mom didn’t hover over me. She would send me outside to play while she busied herself with baking, cleaning, or chatting with friends. It was just how things were back then; children played outside, allowing mothers to get stuff done without a second thought.
Now, I find myself watching my daughter play with her blocks, sunlight reflecting in her delicate blue eyes. She frowns and shifts as the light bothers her, chatting away about the castle she’s building, the sleeping baby princess, and the dinosaur sisters guarding the kingdom. Sometimes, a pang of guilt hits me. Should I be down there with her? Should we be working on letters? Shouldn’t I be closer, showing her my love?
But then I remember how I often encourage her and her brother to play outside—even in our forested backyard with its wild inhabitants. Once, when my son was just 3 years old, a bear strolled by while he was lounging in his hammock. He sprinted inside, heart racing, but still talks about that thrilling encounter. Yes, there are wild animals like coyotes and mountain lions lurking out there, yet I still believe in letting them explore, as long as they avoid playing alone at twilight.
These days, there’s a strong push to monitor our children’s every move, to shield them from all potential dangers. We’re told to wrap them in bubble wrap, keeping them safe while they peer longingly out of a spotless window. Sure, the world outside can be risky. But I think hovering steals precious experiences from them—memories, realizations, and stories. My husband has a scar from a childhood mishap involving a hatchet and Mississippi river mud. That scar is part of his narrative.
If we wrap our kids in cotton, they’re bound to grow up with smooth skin, but they may also miss out on life’s adventures. I want my children to feel free, to experience their bodies as they climb rock fortresses, tumble from trees, and make choices—both good and bad—that are theirs alone.
My childhood was filled with moments my mother didn’t even know about, and I want that same richness for my kids. A life full of stories, and yes, even some scars.
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In summary, while it’s tempting to hover and micromanage every little detail of my children’s lives, I believe in giving them the freedom to explore and learn from their experiences. I want them to grow up with their own stories, their own adventures, and yes, even a few scars along the way.