“Let’s get our girls together!” exclaimed my daughter’s friend’s mom as we chatted at the roller rink. “What’s your number?”
As I shared my contact, I was already aware of my decision: I wouldn’t be dropping my daughter off at her place.
I’ve come to accept the label of being an overly cautious mom, one who’s often told to “let kids be kids.” While some might view this as a critique, I embrace it. I believe in being vigilant when it comes to my children.
Reflecting on my own upbringing, my mother was similarly protective. I wasn’t allowed to attend a sleepover until middle school, and that was only after she had met the other child’s parents. My outings to the mall or movies didn’t start until high school. While my friends were dating in sixth grade, my parents set the dating bar at my sophomore year, and there were strict guidelines in place. Any misstep would result in lost privileges.
In those moments, I felt frustrated. Why were my parents so out of touch? Why was everyone else having fun while I was stuck at home? I would retreat to my room, blasting my favorite songs and pouring my feelings into my diary about how unfair my life felt.
However, I came to realize that my parents’ stringent rules were their way of protecting me, not stifling my freedom. They were waiting for me to grow mature enough to make wise choices, including recognizing when to seek help in tricky situations.
This protective approach started early. When I was in third grade, I received my first sleepover invitation, which my parents immediately declined. I was devastated, picturing my friends munching popcorn and watching Beauty and the Beast without me. They allowed me to join the group for a few hours but made it clear that safety came first.
My mother later explained that some of my friends had older siblings or family members whose presence could pose potential risks. It was better to be “safe than sorry.”
Now that I’m a parent, I understand their perspective. I’ve seen friends whose parents granted too much freedom too soon, leading to unfortunate choices or unsafe situations.
Recently, my tween asked if she could invite a friend over for a Friday night hangout. I reached out to the other girl’s mother through social media, and she was quick to agree. I envisioned us sharing a glass of wine while the girls played.
When they arrived, the introductions were brief. The mother soon announced she had dinner plans and would return in two hours, leaving without ever stepping inside my home. She hadn’t inquired about our household safety measures or whether my daughter had older siblings. All we shared were first names and phone numbers.
I was taken aback. It wasn’t that I imagined the worst-case scenario, but rather that this mom seemed to know so little about us and had entrusted her child into our care with minimal information. I suspected the cell phone she left with her daughter was her only source of reassurance.
The girls played joyfully until the mother returned. After a brief chat at the door, she suggested a playdate at her house. I was caught off guard. How could I express my reluctance to drop my daughter off with strangers without sounding rude or judgmental?
My concerns for my children’s safety are genuine. I worry about the friend’s older teenage siblings and the content they might expose my daughter to. I also think about the possibility of unsupervised friends visiting, and what might happen if one of them poses a threat. Gun safety, drugs, and the risk of sexual assault weigh heavily on my mind. These are real dangers that exist in our world, and as a parent, my foremost duty is to safeguard my child’s well-being.
To strike a balance, I suggest meeting another parent and child in a public place, like a park or skating rink. This allows me to gauge the parents and establish comfort before considering a home visit over coffee. I won’t drop my daughter off based solely on a casual exchange of names and numbers.
Trust is built over time, and I want my kids to learn that it’s okay to take their time getting to know new people and to trust their instincts. I’m fine with being seen as uncool; I’d rather my children experience temporary frustration with me than face the lasting trauma of a preventable incident.
I know I won’t always make perfect decisions. I may sometimes be overly protective, but I’m okay with the occasional error of being too cautious.
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In summary, my parenting philosophy prioritizes safety and trust-building over convenience. I aim to ensure my children’s well-being while helping them understand the importance of cautious social interactions.