Parenting Teens

…by now, that I’m not your typical parent, and I most certainly am not one that qualifies as a “Helicopter parent”. In fact, I hadn’t even heard that term until a couple days ago, then all I could do was nod and agree “Oooooooh I haaaaaaaaaate them kinds!” under my breath. For those that don’t know, a “Helicopter parent” is one that hovers over their kids, rescuing them from any hint of dismay or trouble, and thus not allowing their kids to breathe, or learn from their own mistakes. They’re the rescuers, the smotherers, the ones that make the rest of us roll our eyes and declare we’ll NEVER be that way.

And I’m not that way, at all. Which is exactly why I was so stunned to find myself surrounded by not only “my” 6 teenage girls, but 100 other freshman at the orientation last night.

It may or may not be apparent, but I’m usually not a fan of other people’s kids. Especially in large, noisy groups. I don’t like crowds, and people tend to get upset if you give their kid the stink eye for misbehaving, and it’s practically painful for me to keep my mouth shut for long periods of time. So, MY intention was to ignore freshman orientation, as it was for the teens, and parental attendance was not necessary. Then my daughter suddenly got worried.

“Mom? Her (the youngest) thing is tomorrow right? So you’ll go with me tonight, right? I want you there… please??!”

I’m often mean (just ask them) but I’m not completely heartless, so I said I would, made quick arrangements to have my sister watch my youngest and our schitzo dog, and went over to the orientation with her. And 5 of her best giggly girly friends. I then found myself holding all their purses, as they ran off together (rebelling against the ‘dot’ system that had put them in different groups and instead opting to hang together) on the various activities planned for the freshman that night, by the “E-group” of seniors.

I sat there, alone, with various knitted objects in my lap, with nary a teenager in sight, just some of the teachers who gave me a sympathetic nod. I listened to the bells ring every 15 minutes and cringed a little inside. I didn’t like high school the first time, and don’t EVEN remind me how awful I felt dropping off my son for his first day of high school… and now I have another one joining the ranks? Life is officially NOT FAIR.

About halfway through I was able to make my escape due to A - a personal matter that needed immediate attention, and B - Nana and Papa offered me Triple Chocolate Ice Cream if I could get there. If it were just A - I probably would have stuck it out a little longer, but we’re talking Triple Chocolate Ice Cream! A girl has her limits, you know…

I did make sure to check on the girls, give them back their purses, and give hugs where they were wanted/needed before I left. As I stepped outside of the door, though, I paused to look back for just a moment and watch my daughter. She’d gotten over her nervousness, and was huddled with her friends, giggling, as they moved to the gym for their next activity. There was laughter, smiles, hair flips, sassy remarks, and a variety of fashion choices that made me cringe a little inside… but most of all, there was the very beginnings of confidence.

She had needed me, just for that little bit, and I was there. I didn’t, and won’t, hover, but I’ll always be ready to drop everything and be there to back her up when she needs it - even if it’s only to be in the same building for a half an hour while she gets her bearings.