When Not Helping is the Best Help We Can Provide

By Tatiana Guerreiro Ramos

“Will you help me?”

“I need help!”

“What do I say?”

“I can’t do this.”

Heard any of the above lately? Getting the sense that your kids have developed learned helplessness?

I’m a yes to both those questions.

And I want to know what it is about my parenting that’s creating that learned helplessness.

So I start wading through my addled memory and find the following:

September, Two Thousand Something - At home, two spawn are hungry, I’m reading the same paragraph in an article for the 37th time

Spawn: We’re hungry.

Me: Sounds painful.

Spawn: (groaning) We need something to eat!! Will you make us something?!

At this point, I look over and see they are both in the middle of a Lego project that requires calculus and advanced architectural skills. A voice in my head makes a gentle suggestion that they are ready to make their own sandwiches. I tell the voice to shove it because I don’t have time to teach sandwich-making skills right now. Then I stop talking to myself and make the spawn their requested sandwiches.

July, Pandemic Thousand Infinity - At home, three spawns’ socializing is circling the drain, I’m still working on finishing the article

Spawn: We’re boredboredboredboredboredsoboredeverythingisboring.

Me: Put on your masks and go to the park or walk to 4th Street for ice cream.

Spawn: We don’t know how to get theeeeerrrrrrrreee!!!

Me: You might have forgotten, but when you came out of my vagina, I made sure you had legs and feet. Last I checked, they weren’t broken. Atrophied, maybe. But definitely not broken.

Spawn: (groaning) You’re so annoying, mamãe. And embarrassing. And super annoying.

Me: That’s what I was aiming for. Also, you have a smartphone - map the walk.

Spawn: Please drive us! Pleeeeeeeeaaaaaaasssssssssssuuuuuuhhhhh!!! (Now they’re vibrating, literally.) Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!!! (Their faces are pictures of deprivation and desperation.)

Me: Omg. Fine! Ugh. Get my purse.

Voice in my head pokes my brain again to remind me I have not birthed cement blocks, but rather little humans with working limbs and perfectly intact senses who could, just maybe, walk or bike places. No doubt whining the whole way and acting as if I’ve asked them to cross the Mojave without shoes or sunscreen, but walking or biking all the same. I tell the voice to shove it again because my brain cells are too tired to argue and we all pile into the car and drive the half-mile to feed our faces with ice cream.

These, and several other examples of me stepping in, taking over, missing an opportunity to lead my little horses to water - they all start to form a neon blob in my mind. And the neon blob has a sign around its neck that reads, “Learned Helplessness.” And it’s yelling at me in blobbish - which I sort of understand because I have teenagers at home - and what I can make out is, “As long as you’re snowplowing and robbing them of any opportunity to learn from failure, the spawn will keep on being helpless.”

I scowl. Because it’s annoying that the neon blob is right.

So I start saying “no” when the spawn ask for help doing all the things. I say things like, “I trust you to handle this,” and, “I know you’ll figure this out,” and my favorite, “A good challenge will grow your brain!”

And I notice something. A lot of things.

Ruby learns how to make herself pancakes. Dash gets himself places on his bike and on foot(!). Luca is working part-time, paying for his own ESPN+, and making egg sandwiches. They’re all navigating life, school, and friendships. They’re even developing a habit of asking me if I need anything.

It’s so weird.

I’ve become a sort of potted plant. That sometimes spits out cash. And I’m mostly okay with it. The spawn are practicing adulting and finding their way, which is as it should be.

I still have moments when I miss being their go-to for everything. It would be nice to feel needed again sometimes. And I imagine they will need me again, maybe in different ways.

Until then, maybe I’ll change the WiFi password every now and then. See how much they need me then.