The Hothouse

I recently finished reading A Nation of Wimps: The High Cost of Invasive Parenting by Hara Estroff Marano. Marano explores the current upswing in "helicopter parenting" and its many damaging effects on children, parents, and our society.

Some of the effects on the "over-parented" children are obvious: kids whose parents shelter them in the extreme grow into adults who lack all sorts of emotional and practical skills. Some effects are less obvious, but equally harmful: anxious parents deprive their children of adequate play time, opting instead for Little League or Italian classes or even just staying at home, safe from imagined hazards.

Marano explains how easy it is for parents to fall into this trap. When we wait longer to have children and have fewer of them, they become overly precious to us. Those who over-parent do so with only the best intentions: to protect their children from danger, to provide their children with opportunities.

In the end, these parents create stunted, damaged adults. Adults who overburden university counseling centers. Adults who fail their frustrated employers.

I do not believe I am a "hothouse" parent. Marano cites an example of a mother of a 4-year-old who had never been away from the child for more than a couple of hours. I sent my 2.5-year-old to California for a week! And was happy for the break!

But I can understand how easy it is to let your child become your life. Especially when that child is your first. Especially when you stay at home with that child.

Marano writes about parents being hyper-concerned with their OWN children and uninterested in children in general. She warns that instead of working to create unfair advantages for our kids, we should try to improve conditions for all kids.

Is this blog a reflection of my own selfish obsession with my children? Look at me! Look at my kids! Aren't they smart/cute/hilarious?

Or is it my attempt to hold on to some semblance of my adult self? To have a place where I can focus on things that I like. A place where I can be a parent, yes, but also a wife, a daughter, a reader, a writer. To avoid becoming a helicopter/hothouse/snowplow parent. To have a life outside of my children.

The latter. Please let it be the latter.