Until a few weeks ago, the E-man traipsed down the concrete stairs from our front porch to the walkway with no hesitation.
Now, he either holds up a hand for one us to hold, or he grabs the railing.
Gone is the confidence. Enter a new hesitation. And it's all my fault.
I am a hoverer. I admit it and I'm trying to change it. Given my own clumsiness, it's difficult for me to NOT anticipate the next disaster. It's time, however, to let go and allow the kids to play and tumble without imagining a trip to the ER.
Only in the last year did I quit issuing dire warnings to those left in charge of my offspring. The Hubs, my parents, my in-laws — all were subjected to my lists of endless instructions.
Funny thing is, the worst thing that ever happened to one of the kids was my doing.
Picture the mama in her cute, strappy sandals, out house-hunting one Sunday afternoon with Hubs, her then-2-year-old daughter and newborn son.
Can you see her, entering a charming old home that features a bannisterless wooden staircase up to a charming attic bedroom? See how, on her way day, she picks up her toddler for fear the child will topple down the stairs?
Oops. Now watch the mama trip. See how she frantically tries to catch herself, ping-ponging between the walls, before her daughter is catapulted from her arms.
Can you see this poor mother, who is watching her toddler somersault down the stairs even as she herself is rolling after the child?
They land in a heap at the bottom, at the feet of the horrified homeowners and several other people visiting this open house.
Hubs, meanwhile, has just rounded the corner, just in time to find his child and wife crumpled at the bottom of a staircase.
Tootie, thankfully, was fine. But later, each time I imagined her tumbling, how her pink sunglasses, now bent and twisted, still perched on her tiny nose when she hit the bottom and looked up at me, questioningly ... well, I cried and cried. Because it was my fault. Because if I hadn't been so damn overprotective, she probably would have tottered down those stairs without incident. All by herself.
And now, in recent weeks, I've managed to make my son fearful of stairs.
So my promise to myself is this: I will let go of his hand and urge him to make his own way — not just down the stairs, but in all the other situations in which I am tempted to intervene.
And I will comfort myself with the knowledge that at least our stairs do have a railing.
Sigh...
6 comments:
Stairs are a concern for me too. When I was 2, I fell down some stairs and hit my head on one and needed stitches on my eyebrow. Yes, I've got the Vanilla Ice, break in the eyebrow thing happening. And because of it, I'm very protective of my kids. Thank goodness for railings.
{{raising hand}} My name is moodswingingmommy and I am a helicopter mama too. You mean we are supposed to leave our children with other people without issuing dire warnings?
PS...We'd love to have you join us on Makeover Monday next week!
You know, I was just talking to someone today about how I had to stop hovering, otherwise Avery would never learn to find her way in life.
So I know how it is, for what little it's worth.
It's tough to know how much is too much, isn't it? Especially when other people are watching you. ("Did you see her? She didn't even try to protect her kid.") Besides, stairs are tricky!
Go easy on yourself, sweet mama. He will grow up to walk down stairs with confidence.
Not only will he walk down stairs with confidence, that confidence will grow! You aren't alone. Every momma tries to protect the little ones. This is a lovely post.
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