Amy Sessler Powell's MOMents - Helicopter Crash?

Will benign neglect replace the helicopter?

I’ve been thinking about parenting styles lately because I sense we are on the edge of a cultural shift from the helicopter parent to benign neglect.

Benign neglect or the idea that less is more when it comes to parenting seems to be gaining support while helicoptering, doing everything for your children, is losing ground. I have no scientific support for this view, but it just seems that way to me.

Some people are not so sure the helicoptering worked. We hear stories in the media about incompetent college kids who call their parents to tell them the fire alarm is going off rather than evacuating. We hear about brats whose parents call the college professors and threaten to sue over bad grades.

As these stories come to the fore, whether they are true or not, a whole population of parents will be relieved to see the tide turn. Some parents, believe it or not, fatigue of the competition to outdo each other. Some don’t really care whether Thanksgiving turkey suits for the class skit are made from organic cotton and are perfectly content with kids making the paper bag variety and not involving us.

I remember a friend quietly telling me that she would be happy not to volunteer for everything at school and enjoy her free time while she waited for all the helicopters battle each other for the privilege. She would step in if any of them burnt out. Another confided in me recently that cloth diapers threatened to ruin her marriage. To her, they were a disgusting nightmare, but to her husband they symbolized providing the best, most natural situation for the precious bundle.

I’m not really sure if I was consistent with either approach. I definitely wanted my children to have natural fibers in their clothes for a while, but at some point, I realized that much of this silliness matters not.

Sometimes, the benign neglect is forced on you and it is in those moments, you realize how little you can control. But, you also realize that kids are resilient and find power within themselves to cope with things they face.

If a restaurant or the town where we live has the name of one of my children in it, there is little I can say or do to appease the others.

I remember the pain when our favorite trash man left, leaving my three-year-olds devastated. I felt their disappointment. I felt frustrated at my own lack of control over the situation.  Miraculously, everyone survived. It would not be the only loss in life.  Everyone survived it.

My brother reminded me recently of his first conversation with our parents when he was a freshman in college. He was upset about not getting all the classes he needed so he did the most natural thing – called his parents.

An aunt was visiting so our mom said, “Talk to Aunty,” and then glossed over his problem by saying, “I’m sure you’ll figure out what to do.”

And he did. Maybe there is something to this benign neglect.