Hover Craft

I am not one of those “helicopter parents” that hovers over their children every moment to ensure their absolute safety. I am of the opinion that kids need to learn some lessons the hard way - like touching a hot stove, or running barefoot on wet concrete. Those things will leave an impression, but not a life-long scar. However, an incident over Memorial Day weekend may well serve to alter the course of my future hovering – most especially around bodies of water larger than a puddle.  It was an exciting weekend: my lovely “niece” had her beautiful wedding to a handsome and brave man, the Pie and I had gone to the zoo and had a fun day together. And then it happened: the temptation of the swimming pool beckoned to us. So we loaded up and followed L and J to their new house to celebrate the holiday. A cook out was imminent, complete with potato salad and baked beans and I was anxious to get in the pool…but not nearly as anxious as the Pie!
 Upon arrival at the new house, the Pie and H & H ran full tilt boogie through the mostly empty house and then discovered there was a large hole out back full of water and a few other things I can’t bring myself to talk about right now. Anyway, the pool eventually cleared and they stripped to their cartoon embellished undies and got in with an adult.


A few minutes later, I turned around to witness one of the most horrifying sights a mother can imagine.

My daughter’s head was partially under water, only her giant blue eyes and golden hair visible at about the 4 foot deep mark. I could see her arms and legs churning beneath the surface, but she just couldn’t make any headway. I was frozen to the spot – all I could do was scream her name, which I realize now is not overly helpful in this type of situation. Suddenly, I heard a splash behind me and the Pie was being hauled up out of the water. L had appeared from out of nowhere to rescue the Pie from drowning. As her bluish lips coughed up water, she began to shake and cry. I grabbed her and held her so tight, I probably cracked a rib, but I had to make sure she was alive and okay. When she said, “Me go swimming again?” I wanted to adamantly refuse and pack up and leave. She comforted me by saying, “Me wear my floaties dis time, okay Mama?” At least she knows something about being safe. I then stood in a corner of the year and hyperventilated a little…just a strange little aftereffect of sheer panic!
 The rest of the day, my eyes never left her. They followed her as she bobbed in the water surrounded by her friends and many floatation devices, as she ate her hot dog and chips and as she conquered her fear of jumping into the water. I relaxed only when I knew she was napping safely inside the house.
 As we drove home, I considered how we could have ended up just a holiday statistic; a tragic story in the paper the next day. I considered locking her in her bedroom for the next 15 years or moving to an Ashram in a remote mountain community. But the truth is, she will face danger every day of her life. Whether it’s a hot stove, a pointy stick, a swimming pool, a stranger, or furniture that seems to jump out at her when she’s running through the house, she will experience pain and aches, injury and fear. And while I would like to make absolutely certain that nothing ever happens to her, what kind of life would that be for her? Nothing would EVER happen to her.