I don’t consider myself a helicopter parent but I very much shelter Ayub and treat him like a baby, kinda using his special needs as an excuse to not let go. But he’s a very capable and intelligent individual, and I think I’ve done him a huge disservice to not treat him as such.

Nurturing independence at school

This year Ayub’s school has been nurturing the children’s independence. So at the beginning of this sprint at Acton KL, the guides sent a questionnaire out to parents to complete about what they are comfortable with allowing their children to do on their own. It included saying yes or no to stuff like: riding public transport alone, riding public transport with a peer, walking to the shops alone, walking to school alone, walking to the park and playing alone, cooking a meal etc. I replied ‘no’ to pretty much everything.

My Ayub. Riding public transport alone. Hell to the no. That child is so easily distracted, lacks street smarts, isn’t able to properly communicate with other people, is so trusting of strangers… something is sure to go wrong.

I wrote to the guides at school to explain that Ayub cannot be allowed outdoors alone, especially if there are roads. He would cross without looking, or just run out into the street. He’s that kind of person. He can’t be unsupervised.

It’s been 6 weeks since I filled out that questionnaire and a lot has changed. In me. Not Ayub. Ayub is still Ayub.

I underestimated my child

Ayub is my first born, a rainbow child who was conceived after a miscarriage. He was born with congenital pneumonia, a very severe lung infection, that left him hooked to machines and in the NICU for over a week after he was born. When he was finally able to come home, he would scream non-stop and was a difficult baby, who grew to be a hyper toddler, then a preschooler with obvious developmental delays.

With his constant struggles with speech, communication, and comprehension, it’s always been hard to judge just how much he understands about the world around him.

So I underestimated him and I was wrong.

Being forced to make Ayub more independent

So anyway, Ayub’s school came up with different tasks every week to make the kids more independent.

The first week was to pack and unpack their school bags at home. Ayub was fine doing it, but always forgot and needed to be reminded. ALWAYS FORGOT. EVERY DAY. It really tested my patience. How hard is it to unpack your bag when you get home from school? All he had to do was take out his lunch box.

The second week, he had to continue packing and unpacking his school bag, as well as packing his own lunchbox, then unpacking, washing, and putting away said lunchbox.

He was better at this point. He was happy to make his peanut butter sandwiches in the morning. Although, he took so long, I had to physically fight the urge to roll my eyes at him.

The third week, he had to make his bed every morning, on top of all the packing and unpacking and lunchbox making. He was happy to do it. He’s a clean and tidy person. I was getting tired of watching him take 30 minutes to pack his lunches. So I ended up making his lunch some mornings because… HE’S JUST TOO SLOW I CANNOT.

Things were going well.

But by the fourth week, I gave up because I was just too lazy to have him do things on his own. I know, it sounds weird. I don’t have to do anything because he’s supposed to do it. But he either forgets and I have to remind him, or he does it so slowly/badly that I rather just do it myself. My fault. It’s not a good way of teaching a child when you do everything for them. But he’s just so slow. Omg. I’m a horrible mother.

Looking inward to my own upbringing

Every week, parents have to rate the school week out of 5 and give feedback to help the guides improve. Sometimes they throw in a question in there. Halfway through the sprint, the question was something along the lines of, “At your child’s age, what kind of things did you do at home without supervision?”

I wrote down that when I was 8-9 years old, Ayub’s age, I did the dishes, folded the laundry and put it away, made my bed, went on long walks around the neighbourhood alone, stayed home alone or with my brother, and cooked simple meals. Mr Ninja used to walk back and forth from his home to school alone by that age too.

It was a mini-epiphany I suppose. I realised how much more responsibility, freedom, and independence I was awarded as a child, as compared to the little I give Ayub.

I want to say it’s because he has special needs, that’s why I don’t award him as much responsibility and independence. But I think, it’s mostly just me being controlling.

Learning to let go… a little

So when Ayub asked if he could ride his bike in the park one Saturday evening, I let him go by himself. First time ever. He rode his bike from our house, across the street, to the park. Alone. Without any adult supervision. Mr Ninja wasn’t too pleased about me allowing him to do that.

I watched Ayub ride along the street to the park gates. He was careful. He stopped to look before he crossed the road. He kept to the side. I watched him ride in the park from my balcony. He was fine. He rode round and round the park.

He came home safe and sound, sweaty and happy.

That evening Ayub and Sulaiman wanted to stay home to watch a movie while Mr Ninja and I wanted to go out to the mall. We let him and his little brother stay home alone. First time ever. Told them not to open the door, to call us if anything happens. No calls while we were out. So I called home. No one answered. Panic. Rushed home. They were happily sitting in front of the tv watching their movie. Yeah.

They totally didn’t miss us at all. Fully entertained by Robin Williams in Jumanji.

I finally see my child for the maturing and growing person he is. Sometimes you don’t realise how your babies grow because you see them every day. But they do. And it’s my responsibility as a parent to make sure they do. It’s sad and special and wonderful.

I look forward to the day Ayub is able to move out, get his own place, make his own money, start his own family, do his own whatever. Because it will mean that I did something right. So, here’s to letting go.