Tag Archives: helicopter parent

Freshman Funny

30 Aug

COLLEGE SURVIVAL 101 for Helicopter Kids 

How the heck are you going to survive that first heart wrenching, nut-grinding year away from Home Sweet Home and your helicopter mommy?

Here are 10 tough love tips:

1)    COOL IT. Get over the nauseating hype already. You’re not dying, you’re not even sick, drama queen. Your time watching MTV at home will merely be interrupted by a series of three-week stretches where you will be forced to crash at sub-par housing, share critically dirty bathrooms with other poor schlubs, and occasionally fake a passion for (ugh!) higher learning.

2)    DEVELOP A DRUG HABIT TO THAT FINE, WHITE MIRACLE POWDER – CAFFEINE.  Forget those cheesy plastic radio alarm clocks.  Dragging your sorry ass up in the cold, dark morn is easier when you’re tragically dependent upon coffee and must pull yourself up, crawl outside, stumble to the nearest Starbucks and slam that crippling withdrawal migraine with a stiff cup of high-octane Joe.  Addiction is a real motivator.

3)    SLEEP IS OVER-RATED.  Don’t be a baby about getting “enough” sleep. A sign of true maturity is to realize there is no such thing as “enough.” (Think sex, money, happiness, Twinkies.) Anyway, you can always nap during your brain numbingly boring classes. It’s common knowledge that the last ten rows in lecture halls are specifically designed for this exact purpose.  Remember – one of the perks of college life is having NO bedtime and actually wanting to stay up all night playing Guitar Hero or Angry Birds.

4) EAT EVERYTHING IN SIGHT. Why not? It’s easy. The chow is covered in your meal plan, you don’t have to break a measly sweat to hunt it down, plus there’s nobody there to nag you not to binge!  Snacking is an entertaining hobby – and if you cultivate it with enthusiasm – a twenty-four-hour activity.  So what if you’re chronically constipated and your jeans have holes in all the wrong places? Go ahead! Graze lustily at those gargantuan “All-You-Can-Gorge” buffets.  Pig out at the cupcake and cookie study breaks. Don’t fret over gaining “The Freshman Twenty” – if you’re an average teenager, you’re probably already twenty-five, thirty pounds overweight anyway… so what’s another forty?

5) GET THE FACTS. The facts of life, of course. Dude, if you aspire be a Campus Romeo better rev up that pea brain of yours for prophylactic news you can use. Learn the basics of birth control (abstinence), symptoms of STDs, and essential sexting acronyms – then jot them down on the palm of your sweaty mitt for quick reference.

6) OPEN WIDE.  You will be exposed (obscenely at times) to TMI, idea pollution, mind boggling nerds, pathological preppies, ultra sophisticated other worldly views, and freaks you wouldn’t accept a blood donation from if you were croaking from a Vampire attack.  (See course catalog, student handbook, class profile.)  Get your pooper scooper ready; it’s a daily drive-by dumping of tiresome information.

7) MEET WITH YOUR PROFESSORS. Especially the few reasonably young, horny ones. Nail a one-on-one session in that remote office of campus to pontificate upon your intellectual passions.  Hold your nose, bring an over-priced bottle of French wine and kiss butt like crazy.  This is excellent practice for adult dating in the real world later.  And you never know, something positive could come from this tedious chore – can you spell “sexual harassment settlement?” CA-CHING!

8)  PLEDGING. Lie, cheat, steal, bribe, offer unsavory favors to get into a fraternity, ANY fraternity, the wilder the better.  Just think of the sterling role models you’ll be exposed to, the rock band of Bros you’ll bond with. Where else can you learn how to guzzle six-packs of beer nightly, hold your hard liquor, and offend nice girls, older women and chipmunks, and – best of all – score with super skanks?  Plus… you may finally experience something you never felt in five years of high school – a sliver of acceptance, a trace of popularity. Relish it. It’s fleeting.

9) HYGIENE.  There are basic hygiene facts you’ll come to appreciate. You can easily go a whole year (or at least a semester) without once washing your clothes. Nobody cares. Nobody will even notice. BTW one shower a month is sufficient. Everyone stinks anyway.  Deodorant is passé. Greasy hair is happy hair :). Shampoo is a waste of money – money you could be spending on caffeine.

10) REPEAT THE AFFIRMATION.  “I didn’t die, I am just away,” “I didn’t die, I am just away.”  (And never forget… Mommy and Daddy are a mere speed dial away on their cells!)

Top Mom: Flight Log of a Helicopter Parent

1 Nov

6:00 a.m.     Strength train for endurance.  Focus on flabby upper body muscles.  Remind self that helicopter parenting is an ultra marathon, not a cakewalk for wimps.

6:30 a.m.     Fuel up at Starbuck’s on a tall quadruple Espresso Roast, Komodo Dragon Blend – no milk, no sugar, no cup.


7:00 a.m.     Drill preadolescent kids with calculus and chemistry flashcards over Omega-3 rich, low-fructose breakfasts. Remind them: “Bone up, those AP courses are right around the corner.”

7:30 a.m.     Drop off sweet, attention-challenged male child and intense, snarky female child at middle school with detailed instructions for the entire day.

8:00 a.m.     Check female child’s “MySpace” page. Enter grandiose compliments anonymously to improve her body image and boost core self-esteem.

8:30 a.m.     Install filter on male child’s laptop so those “naughty thong girls acting wild and wet” web sites don’t inexplicably pop up again on his favorites list.

9:01 a.m.     Answer call from whining school principal upset with male child’s “inappropriate” lunchtime behavior. Listen politely, threaten multiple lawsuits and 911 calls to the ACLU and Huff Post. (Make note to confiscate said child’s pocket video camera.)

Smile honey!

9:30 a.m.     Crank up on personal stash of putrid herbal energy supplements since hovering requires continuous, active corrections from the pilot.

Wow! Better than a Polaroid!

10:00 a.m.    Call male child’s cell phone.  Leave firm message that “trying to appreciate the female gender” does not include filming the morbidly obese school librarian straining in the teachers’ lounge, then posting it on “You Tube.”

Golf is in your future

Geez, what will Harvard think?

10:30 a.m.    Drop by schoolyard at snack time and nudge female child, thus aggravating both your eating disorders.  “Are you relishing your vegetables?

Repeat the mantra: “Remember, broccoli is brain food… and it’s slimming, too.”

11:00 a.m.    At biweekly appointment, ask therapist to define “hover.” Deny lack of stability ‘til the friggin’ malevolent methane emitting cows come home.

Fuel Up!

12:00 noon    Fuel up on iced mocha double double espresso Frappucino Gazebo Blend with cumin sprinkles and whipped cream. Top off with a scrumptious giant cherry apricot scone for extra lift.

12:30 p.m.    Incessant helicopter din and teeth-rattling vibration grating on already rattled nerves.

Get lube job (and mani-pedi) at tacky day spa.  Have mechanic sharpen motor blades and check torque tension.

1:55 p.m.      Ignore slacker husband’s remark, “Why do you think they call it HELLicopter?”

2:00 p.m.     Do research for female child’s science project on “Hummingbirds and the Physics of Flight.”  You gotta earn those A’s!  (They don’t grow on trees – especially on our family tree!)


2:45 p.m.     Call female child’s English teacher and berate her for that “B” on the Macbeth essay last week.

2:55 p.m.     Call male child on cell phone and insist he text message his score on the afternoon’s spelling test now. Excellence waits for no one.

3:00 p.m.     Call therapist. Demand she clarify “too involved.” Disagree vehemently and vow innocence ‘til Iceland melts off the geothermal map.

credit telegraph.co.uk

3:15 p.m.     Detect ominous downward spiral at accelerating speed. Panic creeps in.

3:16 p.m.     Reflect upon therapist’s comment, “Helicopters are very unstable; hovering is like balancing yourself while standing on a large beach ball.”

3:17 p.m.     Chopper pitches and rolls like a drunken windmill.  “Holy F#@*!!!”

3:18 p.m.     Tear up parent card and toss pilot wings in the trash.

3:19 p.m.     Prepare for a crash landing as fuel abruptly runs out.  View is totally obscured by stress-induced, adrenaline juiced brain fog.

Hello Kitty Parachute IPhone APP

3:20 p.m.     Collapse at cyclic switch, kiss your asinine aspirations “adieu” as your chopper shakes to a million bits in mid-air.

3:21 p.m.     Plummet to a sure death of regret and many broken bones — but then land miraculously… in an empty nest.

3:33p.m.     Vegetate there while deviant male child and dour female child learn to fly on their own two feet – and perhaps some day in the very distant future – elect to conduct a Search and Rescue Mission for you – their “Top Mom.”

Get Stuck On Smart

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