When I reflect on my childhood, I remember a particular Fourth of July in the South Bronx. I was around five years old, standing in Joyce Kilmer Park, waiting for the fireworks display sponsored by Yankee Stadium. My father, as was often the case, had indulged in a bit too much alcohol. On this occasion, his drinking was exacerbated by his PTSD, which made fireworks a source of anxiety for him, as they reminded him of the explosions he experienced in the Army. Ironically, his inebriated friend brought along some fireworks for us to light, which should have triggered my father’s fears, but the alcohol seemed to dull his nerves.
We lit these long, thin firecrackers, placing them in a soda bottle and running away just as they ignited. There were moments when the bottle tipped over, prompting me to race back to right it—an action that could have resulted in serious injury. Yet, my father and his friend merely laughed at the chaos, seemingly oblivious to the dangers.
Growing up under such circumstances, I often felt unsafe. This fear shaped my approach to parenting. When I became a mother, I was determined to create a completely secure environment for my child. I immersed myself in research, taking classes, reading every parenting book I could find, and meticulously planning every detail. I even considered purchasing a device to analyze the metals in our home to avoid any potential toxicity. Thankfully, my husband helped me see the absurdity in that decision.
Once our baby arrived, I began creating lists for the pediatrician, documenting every nuance of our child’s behavior and health. I opted out of having a Christmas tree during our son’s first holiday season, worrying about possible allergens from bugs that might be hidden in the branches. My anxiety reached new heights as I grappled with conflicting advice on parenting, all the while trying desperately to avoid becoming my father.
A few months later, I came across the term “lawnmower parenting,” which refers to parents who remove obstacles from their child’s path to prevent any potential problems. This concept resonated with me deeply. I then had a revelation while watching a video of a neighborhood block party. I found myself incessantly urging my son to stay close and not wander away. At that moment, I realized that my fears were projecting onto him unnecessarily. The road we were near was actually quite far away, and I had been stifling his freedom.
Releasing my child from constant oversight was a challenge. I still grapple with worries about his diet and the safety of our home environment. However, I am now more aware of how my past experiences influence my actions as a parent. I am committed to breaking this cycle and allowing my child the space to grow and explore.
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In summary, my experiences as a child have profoundly impacted my approach to parenting. By recognizing and addressing my fears, I strive to create a nurturing and secure environment for my child, free from the shadows of my past.