This morning my husband and I were talking about September 11, and I was telling him a little tearily about flight attendant Sandy Bradshaw. She stood 5'2", but when a team of hijackers took over the cockpit she did not sit down meekly to await her fate. She took what she had on hand -- water! -- and she boiled it to use as a weapon. Her story speaks to me of courage and resilience, and I think it's relevant for our conversation about kids and independence.
Miriel asked about strategies for calming her own anxiety, and I have a few ideas. But I think, too, that it's important to remember two things. First, you and your kids get to frame your own experiences. I have an older post in this category that mentions a story I saw on Facebook: some kids were left alone and they set the couch on fire accidentally. Then they put the fire out. You can let that be a story about how kids should never be left alone, just like you can let Sandy Bradshaw's act of defiance be a story about the futility of resisting terrorist activity. Or you can let that couch be a reminder that kids do foolish things, yes, but that they are resourceful if we encourage them to be so. You can't shield your kids from all harm, no matter how vigorously you try. But the way you frame their adverse experiences can make a difference to them years down the line.
Here's the second thing I encourage any parent to remember: a huge fraction of your ability to raise your children contentedly arises from your ability to disregard 80% of other people's opinions about what's best for your children. It reminds me a bit of the debate about homebirth. People are only too happy to tell you that it's irresponsible to plan an out-of-hospital birth; they are considerably less eager to evaluate the science and think objectively about risks and benefits. [long digression deleted -- you're welcome!] Within reasonable limits, you get to make your own choices for your kids. The people around you -- parents, in-laws, friends, neighbors, and strangers at Target -- will tell you for the rest of your life that you're making the wrong decisions. In the absence of overt abuse/neglect or gross disregard for social norms, parents have zero obligation to strangers at Target. My kids deserve the best of my decision-making ability, and I decline to divert more than a modicum of mental mojo to the question of what the neighbors might think is best. (The angst on display in this category of posts might indicate that my modicum of mental mojo could stand to be whittled down. I'm working on it.)
Given the ages of your kids, Miriel, it might be helpful to remember that you are going to watch their abilities unfurl beside you for a while. You can push back without sending your three-year-old to the corner mailbox by himself. Start by rejecting the ridiculous idea that kids shouldn't talk to strangers. Gavin de Becker writes so sensibly about this -- be sure to read his book if you haven't yet. Talking to strangers is a critical life skill, and it requires practice. The practice is easy, though -- when they want something at the coffee shop, have them order for themselves. When they want another Tomie de Paola book at the library and you're nursing the baby, they can ask the librarian for help while you sit in your chair and watch. When you take the city bus together, setting them up for the day when they can do it without you, they can ask the driver for a transfer while you fold up the stroller. Some kids will need more coaching and encouragement than others, but this is a learnable skill. And if they get into a bind when you're not there, those joint experiences with helpful (and even unhelpful!) adults will reassure you both that the world is mostly full of people who are willing to assist a kid in need.
(Parenthetically but relatedly, I still do coaching and scripting with my bigger kids. Interactions are complicated, and a sample script can be really helpful in figuring things out whether you're a toddler or a teen. I am always willing to be rejected when I offer, but I often offer to get them started. When they were small the issue was "I don't know what to say to that girl on the slide but I'd like to play with her." Now it is the daunting pile of thank-you notes after the Eagle Court of Honor, the need for an apologetic email to a manager. They will nail their own words to the frame I provide, but they often seem grateful for the frame.)
Another anti-anxiety tactic is to watch the language you use in talking to them. You've probably read about the studies suggesting it's wiser to tell kids that they're persistent and resourceful instead of telling them that they're smart. Kids who've been told repeatedly that they're smart are more likely to worry, when they are tripped up by a thorny problem, that they've been unmasked at last. They're not actually smart, they think, even though they fooled the grownups for a while. (Is it obvious that I speak with the voice of bitter childhood experience here?) I think this is also good medicine for parents. The way you talk to and about your child influences the way you see your child. And confidence that your children are persistent, resourceful, resilient people is essential for your peace of mind in sending them out into the world.
Here is my last suggestion: be pleasantly vigilant, pleasantly adamant. Realistically, I think the biggest risks my children face on the streets are cars and aggressive dogs. And so I drill them on street safety when they are small, asking them to make judgments again and again and again until I am confident in their street sense. Almost all dogs are leashed in our community, but when I see an off-leash dog I am all over it -- pleasantly, but firmly. We had some minor issues last year with dogs owned by the student tenants in a nearby apartment building, and I placed a lot of calls to the building management and to the non-emergency police number. I said, "This is where my kids walk to school, and I would appreciate your help in keeping them safe." Everybody -- everybody -- is on board with that.
Anxiety is part and parcel of being a parent. We live in a world where a plane full of people -- every one of them somebody's beloved child -- can take off uneventfully on a beautiful September morning and lie broken on the ground not long afterward. In encouraging my children to exercise agency early and often, I am hoping that they will grow into adults who can muster courage and resourcefulness in the bleakest circumstances. It matters. Sometimes it matters a lot.
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