When We Have to Helicopter

I'm not a helicopter parent. Oh, I have my moments, and not that anyone probably thinks they are, but at least I feel like my tendency is to err on the other end of the continuum. This is probably why I love Jen Hatmaker and Tim Kimmel's variety of parenting - let them encounter struggles and coach them through so they feel strong and capable afterward.

But before I get on my soapbox, this post is actually about facing the fact that sometimes, laissez faire breaks down. Sometimes I need to be more involved than is my bent. Sometimes, our kids need a helicopter. Much as it kills me to say that. And the fact is, as much as I love my boys, that doesn't mean I always want to do the things that are good for them. It's easier to tell myself they don't really need those things.

A couple weeks ago, two different friends I love and respect who are veteran educators separately invited me for coffee in order to discuss our complicated situation with my son's education. They invited me. (backwards, I know) They fed me. They reviewed my giant file folder. They asked tons of questions. And in the end, and with more words and delicious food and gentleness, they came to the same bottom line: This is going to be hard, and You're gonna have to do more.

The fact is, he has special needs, so the regular program is not designed to work for him. I cannot sit back and let the professionals do their thing without understanding what they're doing, how my son is responding, where we stand, and what we should expect. I am the best advocate for him, and he needs me to be that on a weekly basis. No matter where he attends school. I've had more than one person tell me, "At times it will feel like a full-time job."

Can I just say? That scares the bejesus out of me. I don't inherently understand the terminology used in his IEP. It's uncomfortable asking his therapists and teachers for explanations and evidence. I'm the parent who does a little dance when articles say not to help your kids with homework. And now I have years of painstaking homework and monthly parent-teacher conferences and therapy sessions where I have to stay and watch and understand rather than just drop him off?

Even as I type that, it sounds so ugly. All along, I've known deep down what I've been really clinging to: mine. My time, my energy, my ease. All my selfishness has been laid bare. I want to do what I enjoy, what I'm good at, and I don't like having to give that up for something difficult. I sound like a toddler.

But what I've been realizing in the weeks since then, is that this is parenting. So far, it has been relatively "easy" because I've mostly wanted to do what my kids needed me to do. But that's not really selflessness. That's just my selfishness and their needs aligning.

And actually, I think every parent hits this wall at some point -- I've just now started noticing. The testimony from a friend about the dietary gymnastics she's having to perform for her kids (who have medical issues). Another woman's willingness to drive across town for athletic practices because her son has a phenomenal passion/talent she never expected. A neighbor's years-long commitment to taking care of her elderly parents with Alzheimer's. It's one thing to see people showing boundless love and think, How sweet. It's another to realize the choices they have made to be that person -- the things they have sacrificed or embraced to show that love.

My "sacrifice" is actually very manageable. Not when I look at 18 years all at once. But last week. And this week. Even next week. I've been talking to the teachers, visiting the school, meeting with the therapists, studying the reports and files, reading online, creating a few baby steps toward making our home more supportive, attending a few education seminars, and setting up therapy sessions for this summer.

And you know what? It hasn't been that bad. I'm kind-of excited about my new-found knowledge. The rubber won't fully hit the road till next fall, but in the meantime, I'm reminded that Nineveh tends to look a lot worse than it is. My steady resistance to changing our "normal" life was just stupid. If I'd been a movie character, I would've been so frustrated with me.

But it's not like now I'm done; I've suddenly become selfless and it's so great. In fact, now that I'm more aware of my selfishness, I see it popping up everywhere. My decisions not to play with the boys because I don't love hot wheels and sword fighting. Choosing sports leagues that require the least commitment because I don't want to drive around on weeknights. My resistance to cutting lactose from my son's diet because it's easier to prep food without restrictions. Sometimes, these things are good for our family (my kids need free play, they don't need intense sports yet, and it's better for him if he can drink lactose) BUT let's be honest: sometimes I don't do them because I just don't want to. I still want life to be easy and fit into my expectations.

Which is not to say our entire home needs to revolve around the boys. Or that I'm taking over their education. Or that I'm giving up all my own extracurriculars -- more that I'm recognizing a shift in where that balance is found right now for me. Their needs are changing, and that means I need to adjust with them.

And I guess what I'm really trying to say is that those adjustments aren't easy just because I love my boys. As parents, sometimes I think we just need to hear that. To know that. It helps when I look at my boys or think about their preciousness. I am in love with each of them, and that definitely makes it all worthwhile. But being a good parent to them still requires effort and conscious choices and sacrifices.

Right now, it requires me to lean in. I'm a big Sheryl Sandberg fan, and with her husband's sudden death in the news lately, her book and campaign have been on my mind. People are often surprised that I--a stay-at-home mom--am a fan. But it's because she encourages women to "lean in" to their callings and passions and pursuits rather than holding back out of fear or insecurity. This week, I've been realizing that it's time for me to lean in a little more to motherhood. And while becoming an expert in special education would not have been my first choice, it is my best choice right now, and that is all that really matters.