Am I a helicopter parent?

Day Two of school and I feel as though they’ve been back a hundred years.  I was merrily tweeting to a friend that I’d beaten my own personal best record of 48 hours before bending the school secretary’s ear – I was on the phone literally the minute we got out of the car after pick-up yesterday – then I realised that, in actual fact, I rang her last week, too, when everyone was still technically on holiday.


Am I turning into a helicopter parent? I’m a bit scared that the honest  answer is yes. If I think there’s a problem, then yes, I am on the phone trying to massage things into the best possible shape for my little dears. It’s the kind of behaviour which, to be honest, would have me raising an eyebrow if it was anyone else doing it. As it’s me, I justify it as best I can. I’m a single parent, they only have me to battle for them. Mr X is an exemplary father but, through no fault of his own, he is not around on a day to day basis. And so I feel I have to weigh in a bit harder. Yes, they are of an age when they should be sorting things out themselves. But there are some issues which they cannot deal with.

The school is great, the school secretary is lovely and very patient, but I can see I am going to have to keep my helicopter propellers under control this year. To hover, or not to hover, that is the question – what do you do?

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