As soon as the doors of our family SUV swing open, I find myself reminding my kids, “Please head directly to the sidewalk and wait for me.” We’ve just pulled up to our favorite park, eager to let loose some energy.
Honestly, this park is a family favorite mainly because I love it. It’s conveniently located just a short drive from our home, but what truly appeals to me is the sense of safety it provides. The playground is positioned far enough from the parking lot, where distracted drivers might be navigating their way around. The fishing pond is also distanced enough that I don’t have to worry about one of my kids tumbling in while playing tag. Plus, it’s frequented by a few families, which adds a comforting sense of community without overwhelming crowds.
I grab my handbag and the cooler filled with water bottles and granola bars, taking my toddler by the hand. Meanwhile, my older three children sprint excitedly towards the playground, competing to see who can claim the slide first.
Once I arrive at the playground and set our belongings on a shaded bench, my toddler wriggles free from my grasp, darting straight towards her siblings. It’s then that I can’t help but shout my familiar mantra, “Be careful!”
The reality is, I often find myself saying “be careful” more times than I can count. Whether we’re navigating through a store parking lot or preparing to dive into a swimming pool, I’m always there, urging them to be mindful. I’ve even developed different variations of this phrase, encouraging them to make safe choices, keep an eye out for younger kids, and just slow down.
Some may view my vigilance as overprotective or paranoid, but I know that my anxiety drives my behavior. My lifelong struggle with anxiety means I’m constantly haunted by the fear of something happening to my children. The stories of freak accidents I’ve encountered stick with me, compelling me to warn my kids about potential dangers.
Take, for instance, the tale of a young sports player who returned to her soda only to swallow a bee, not realizing she was allergic. Or the heartbreaking incident of a boy who was crushed by a garage door while watching his father. These stories are unsettling and often replay in my mind, shaping my protective instincts.
While my hyper-vigilance stems from a place of love, it’s also a reflection of my anxiety. Could this anxiety, despite its drawbacks, also be a gift? It certainly amplifies my protective instincts as a mother. Isn’t it our primary role as parents to ensure our kids are safe?
I frequently wrestle with the urge to become a helicopter parent. If I don’t manage my anxiety, I risk stifling my children’s joy and freedom during their childhood. Some of my fears are valid, like the one time a year they get to hold sparklers. I make them hold those sticks as far away from their bodies as possible, fearing second-degree burns.
I fondly recall my childhood memories of sparklers, lining up with my cousins as our dads lit the tips while our moms captured the moments on camera.
Modern parenting brings its own set of fears. Issues like child trafficking, the effects of social media on mental health, and the accessibility of firearms make the landscape increasingly daunting. We also grapple with teaching our kids about drugs, alcohol, and navigating their first experiences with driving and relationships.
I don’t want my anxiety to overshadow my children’s childhood by fixating on what could go wrong. Yet, I can’t seem to switch off my worry. Meditation, sleep, exercise, medication, and therapy haven’t provided the relief I seek.
I’m simply wired this way. Although I’ve become less fearful since welcoming my third child, my journey to manage my anxiety is ongoing. I want my kids to embrace opportunities without fear, to hear more “yes” than “no” from me.
As my children grow, more opportunities arise for me to be the mom I aspire to be. With my eldest now receiving invitations from friends, I recognize that I can’t hold back the inevitable progression of their lives.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with being a strict parent. Children need guidance, not friendship. However, as their parent, I also serve as their partner and role model. They learn to view the world through my lens, and if I’m not willing to embrace new experiences, they won’t be either.
We can either expend energy worrying about the “what ifs” or responsibly choose to say “yes.” We can help them learn right from wrong, trust their instincts, and feel comfortable reaching out for help if they ever feel unsafe.
I’m uncertain if my anxiety will ever diminish; I’m certainly not counting on it. However, I can resolve to navigate through it, day by day. Instead of defaulting to “be careful,” I can encourage my children to seek out life’s adventures.
This journey starts with me, and I’m committed to making it work.
Further Reading
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Summary
Navigating the challenges of parenting can be especially tough when anxiety is a constant companion. I find myself often reminding my kids to “be careful” in various situations, driven by a desire to keep them safe. While my vigilance is rooted in love, it often stems from my struggles with anxiety. As my children grow, I strive to balance my protective instincts with the need to let them explore and embrace life’s opportunities. By consciously working on my anxiety, I hope to empower my kids to live boldly and learn from their experiences.