When I was a kid, my parents were helicopter parents. We didn’t have a word for it back then, but I always heard how things were not safe and how I would get hurt if I did something dangerous, like climb on a railing. Today, I run a very hard line. I try to give my kids the freedom to explore, but I am terrified of them getting hurt; I want them to be strong, but I want to be protecting them. I realize that these are counterproductive goals. To be strong, occasionally we need to get hurt, lick our wounds and move on.

While I was in the Girl Scouts as a kid, I was a scared little thing. I sucked at camping, I was terrified of hiking, spiders and their cousins, the daddy long legs, freak me out (note present tense) and in general, I was the scaredy cat of the whole troop.

This weekend, I did a 24 hour training, including tent camping, for Girl Scouts. It turns out that you need to have camp training to build a fire (I kid you NOT) and I want to make s’mores for the girls this year. Or smacoes (Chocolate chips, peanut butter chips, mini marshmallows, rolled in a tortilla and grilled. O-M-G, PMS heaven!). So I sucked it up and did the training. I was nervous going, I was nervous all week, and then Saturday rolled around, and… I liked it! I even built a fire on my first try! I used a dutch oven and coals to cook coffee cake and blueberry muffins, I learned basic orienteering, and a few other things. I also learned that this camp is on a direct approach to Logan International Airport and I didn’t sleep much with the airplanes, but STILL! I slept fine in a tent and enjoyed the experience of being outdoors.

It is interesting to see how life changes…