My daughter started high school this year, and I can’t believe I’m old enough to have a daughter starting high school. It feels like yesterday when she started first grade in a new school and wouldn’t go into her classroom out of fear and embarrassment from us arriving a couple minutes late (I know, total mom fail. Poor decision to
elaborately braid her hair that morning given my remedial girl hairstyling skills).
She’s in an all-girls high school, a transition from her one-class-per-grade K-8 co-ed school, and I’ve been both excited and anxious for her in making new friends and managing her time with 10x more homework and being on the soccer team which involves daily practice after school and weekday games. I want to know every. single. detail. And I want to help. But I’m realizing, too, that that kind of rabid-ness may not be ideal for her development and I am NOT a helicopter mom – or at least, I don’t want to be a helicopter mom! (I’m definitely not a lawnmower mom.)
So, I’m working on dialing down my innate drive to interfere and letting it go a little. Not entirely, let’s be realistic, but a conscious effort to allow her to find her own way. I know she’ll come to me for guidance if needed. I know it’s okay to fail. I know she needs to learn. I know she will do just fine.
It amazes (and horrifies) me when I hear stories of parents being weirdly involved when their kids are of grown age. Like graduate students’ parents calling the school to take care of things for their adult children. Those stories inspire me to let go now. That’s doing favors for no one.
I’m resisting. And turning down the dial. And taking deep breaths. So she can breathe and grow too.