Navel Strings

I am not a helicopter mother by choice. I really, really believe that it’s healthy for kids (and parents) to have their space. Kids need to step out in the world on their own, get their hands dirty, make mistakes, learn by trial and error. It’s essential in developing self esteem, innovation, confidence, social skills, negotiation skills and more. Of course parents should be there in guiding kids away from harmful dangers, enhancing moments of learning and growth, but I really feel that kids learn best when they feel trusted–trusted to succeed and trusted to make mistakes.

I just can’t do that with J.

There are so many strings attached with autism. In some ways I feel like the umbilical chord has never been cut. In fact, I feel like there are a hundred, invisible, navel strings that still link me to J and I wonder sometimes if we’ll ever be completely independent from each other.

I get this strange dread and anxiety every time I have those moments where I have to make a choice to be “helicopter” mom, or to just “trust the process.” I need J to be independent–for his and my sake. He needs to make mistakes and learn by trial and error. I need to not have to think about autism and all the safety nets and adaptations I’m perpetually/spontaneously creating to make sure we both make it to the end of the day okay. Because a kid “messing up” with autism looks different from a “normal” kid “messing up.”

There’s the physical stuff–like shoe laces: we’re still stuck on tying shoelaces. Yes, he can tie his shoes and yes I make him tie his shoes every day before school. And within 30 minutes, his shoes are untied because he still doesn’t have the motor strength/dexterity to really pull those laces tight–not just at the top, but the crossed laces over the tongue of the shoe. Tying shoes is also extra hard because he wears custom inserts which make his shoes fatter, wider (which makes all of his laces naturally looser), and harder to navigate tying. It’s fine when we’re going to the grocery store or we’re out for errands (we just stop in the middle of the store and he sits down on the floor and reties them, at least two times during the trip). It’s fine when he’s at school, because he’s not moving around much anyways. But I still find myself during that transition after school to xc/winter running/track retying his shoes, bent over at his feet in the middle of the high school, explaining to him the process: take the loose laces on the tongue and systematically pull each lose x tight, stop after every “bunny hole” step to make sure the laces are tight and double knot the laces so they don’t come undone during the run. Sure, he could go for a run with loose/untied shoes and fix them on his own. Except it’s more complicated than that. He already struggles to keep up with the group, so taking a 10 second shoe tie (or minute and a half shoe tie for J) puts him farther behind, increases his chance of not crossing a busy intersection with a buddy, increases his chance of getting lost, increases his chance for an ankle or shin splint injury (because J’s feet pronate). And we’ve dealt with a month’s worth of injury before because of issues with his inserts and laces and we don’t want to deal with that again. So yeah, I find myself helicoptering that situation every single time.

Shoe laces are just one example. There are hundreds of example of how I end up helicoptering the little physical things. I try really hard to have him take care of the physical things, but often I end up having to “take over” for safety issues. We are so close on so many things–checking for cars before running across the street, biking to places on his own (except for the locking up the bike part–once again, it’s a motor issue thing, and I don’t want to have to buy a dozen bikes and have them stolen to get J to realize the importance of locking up his important. He knows it’s important. It’s just a real physical struggle to do). We’re so close to cutting some of those needy ties, but we’re just not quite there.

And there’s also the social part that’s really hard to be “hands off” with. I have a really hard time trusting J with other people. I have legitimate concerns, and yes, I know I have to also get over myself and learn to trust J and his peers/teachers/responsible adults better. But autism makes it hard. What if kids bully J and I’m not there? What if J has a meltdown and people don’t know what to do? Can they help him be safe and be safe with others if that happens? What if he has a panic attack and runs away? What if he gets lost (or left behind because he isn’t paying attention)?What if he’s rude and talks back? What if he’s super annoying (and yes, he can be really annoying with his obsessive questions)? Will friends and teachers have the guts to tell him to stop?

I have legitimate concerns. It took J almost an hour to physically get from the car into the school building on Wednesday (luckily we had great teachers to help us through that) because he figured out there was going to be a fire drill that day. That’s legit anxiety. That’s legit hard for an adult or kid who doesn’t know how to navigate anxiety and autism on their own.

Track started this week and I had promised myself that for this season I would “trust the process” and let J navigate himself in a world of “normal” adults and kids on his own. This is a huge step for both of us. I’ve been pulling back my helicopter shadow in XC and winter running to the point where I supervise his transition for a few minutes and let him run on his own with his team. And that’s been working really well–I do my own run (which helps me manage my anxiety and “what if” thoughts) while J is on his own until pickup time.

I tied J’s shoes after school and sent him into the gym on his own. No supervision with the transition, I sat at home for an hour and a half not knowing what to do with my anxious self (read the same three sentences of my novel over and over again), and went back to the school to pick him up. J attended track helicopter free. I did the “trust” experiment and we made it through the week. I’d love to tell you that it went perfectly. It didn’t. We had some minor hiccups–the large group with new kids is overstimulating and makes it hard for him to behave without his mom’s “look” from the sidelines. But my goal is to keep him on his own, take it day by day, and really talk with coaches to make sure we’re doing things to help J succeed in that environment. Because one day I’d love to just drop him off and not think twice about him until pick up time, just like all of the other parents do. It’s hard. Those invisible naval strings are strong.

Baby steps, right? (I’ve got this right?)

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