I found myself writing at length about my son's food allergies, including the following:
Other people really don't understand the effect food allergies have on kids, socially and anxiety-wise. My son has had four major reactions that involved breathing difficulties and rescue meds; he's had countless other reactions that did not progress as far, but that made him sick. Coping with the fear of a reaction and learning to make good decisions, cook his own food, and watch out for potential issues (like kissing someone who has eaten peanut butter) has been a major undertaking.
There was more before and after that paragraph: about the clinical trial, about exclusion, anxiety, expectations, maturity. There was a lot. I wrote and wrote and wrote.
And then I took it all back out.
It occurred to me that the high school counselor would likely interpret it, no matter how well written, as overprotectiveness. What exactly is overprotectiveness? I wondered as I looked at the blinking cursor. Would I know if I had the dread disease? Or, is it like racism, where everyone can only see it in others but either don't see it or excuse it in themselves?
There is, of course, another way to look at the situation. I could include reams and reams of information about food allergies. I could let my anxiety all hang out. I could emphasize what my son missed out on throughout his school years. I could magnify the bullying incidents. I could complain about the uncaring teaching and support staff. I could rally against a society that teases and marginalizes kids with a medical disorder. I could name the dead kids...quote the test scores...talk about death from food allergy as likely or even certain.
"In my 20 years of experience as a high school guidance counselor, I have never met a more anxious, over-involved and domineering mother than this student's mother. I am recommending strongly that you accept him at your college as a means of extracting him from this obviously unhealthy home environment."
But that would be incredibly self-centered and stupid. (Wouldn't it?)
So, I am starting the survey over, with the following Rules For Good Mothers of Food-Allergic Children displayed prominently over my monitor:
- I will not make it all about me. It's about him. If I get gratification from thinking of and portraying myself as a Food Allergy Wondermom who deals with more than other moms, I need to STOMP IT OUT. This is his normal. It needs to be my normal as well. There is no blue ribbon for food allergy mothering.
- I will focus on facts, not emotions. My heart is saying HE COULD DIE DIE DIE DON'T LET HIM OUT OF YOUR SIGHT! My head is saying that one child died at college last year from food allergies, out of approximately 100,000 freshmen with food allergies who attended college*. My son literally has a greater chance of dying from a lightning strike (83,000 to 1), presumably even less if we prepare well.
- I will not exaggerate! It's so easy to slip into full-out hyperbole. And let's be honest...the more danger there is to our kids, the more justified we can feel about our helicoptering. If death is truly not a possibility, then the protective-vs.-overprotective equation changes dramatically. (That's why so many chat boards emphasize, over and over again, food allergy deaths: because it's the only meaningful excuse for bad parenting behaviors.)
- I will restrict only what I must restrict for these last months before he leaves. I will not confuse more restrictions with more love or care. Avoiding foods, social situations and opportunities because of my own fear is wrong, and really bad parenting. I will deal with my own anxieties so my child can participate in every activity that is not demonstrably dangerous for him.
Such a little list. Such a hard thing to really put in practice. It's amazing how much of my own personal identity (friends, chat boards, activities, this blog) is derived from my son's health issue.
But that's what college is supposed to be about, isn't it? Stepping back and letting the child take control. If I'm honest with myself, I can see that I've made it a lot harder than it had to be, both for me and for him. And isn't that the real definition of a Helicopter Mother?
Guilty as charged.
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*6,000,000 kids with allergies in the U.S. divided by 18 years = 3333,333. 50% college attendance rate ~150,000. I reduced some because kids with allergies skew younger.