Hiking, Helicopter Parenting, and the Art of Letting Go (Sort Of)

For those of you still shockingly unaware of every detail of my life (which, frankly, is just rude at this point), here’s a quick recap: Once upon a time (not so long ago, actually), I started hiking with both my sons—Salt and Pepper. Then it was just Salt. Then just Pepper. And then, inevitably, I had to face the cold, hard truth: My children were bound to wake up one day, realize their mother was certifiably unhinged, and run for the hills. (Metaphorically, of course. Not literally. Which, given all the hiking, is hilariously ironic.)

But let’s talk about the real tragedy here: The unsolicited wisdom of society—also known as my beloved friends (love you guys), my respected co-workers (sure), and random bystanders with opinions nobody freaking asked for (whatever, Karen). This esteemed panel of experts seemed to believe that dragging my (adult) kids on hikes every weekend was holding them back. Yes, apparently, filling their lungs with fresh air, giving them quality time, and teaching them basic survival skills was an oppressive act. Who knew?

Salt

Anyway, Salt eventually discovered love (ugh), fell into the abyss of romance (tragic), and abandoned me without so much as a second thought. (Rude.) That left Pepper as my somewhat reluctant sidekick. And oh, what a sidekick he was.

Unlike Salt, who was up at the crack of dawn, calm, and doubled as my personal GPS (with some willingness to fight off dangerous creatures if necessary), Pepper brought attitude. A lot of it. And complaints. And snark. So much snark.  Must not wake up before sunrise. Must not walk too slow. Must not hike in a way that disrupts his general grumpiness. Frankly? Exhausting. 

Oh, and let’s not forget—if we ever encountered an actual dangerous creature? I have exactly zero doubt that Pepper would shove me in front of it and save himself.

There were entire hikes where I found myself questioning whether he was actually my biological child. (Oh wait… yes. That level of snark....definitely mine.)

And let’s not even start on the mood swings that Salt came with.

But even the mighty Pepper started to crack. Turns out, waking up at 6 AM on a Sunday (even in summer) wasn’t his "vibe". Shocking revelation, truly. After bailing on me last minute twice, he must’ve realized it was better to resign with dignity before I fired him outright. He claimed he wasn’t quitting, just taking a break.

Pepper

Uh-huh. Sure, buddy.

And you know what? Fine. My last couple of solo hikes (a big thanks to Pepper’s last-minute no-shows), my newfound attitude to group hikes, and the ever-growing tribe I’ve been collecting made me realize something—my kids came with way too many terms and conditions anyway.

But, against all odds, I did miss our hikes. Turns out, dragging your children through the wilderness—attitude, mood swings, and all—is actually kind of special.

So imagine my surprise when, after weeks (or in Salt’s case, months) of independence, both of them suddenly started asking where I was hiking and if they could join. (Obviously not at the same time. Because in what universe do Salt and Pepper actually work together? - Okay, okay, I heard that. Let’s all relax..)

Oh, the irony.

And of course, every single time they asked, I already had hiking plans—because, contrary to popular belief, I do now have a life. Aka hiking.  And while I briefly considered feeling guilty for not immediately torching my entire schedule (yet again) to accommodate their sudden interest, I think they’ve somehow managed to survive the deep emotional trauma of the scheduling conflicts.

So, to all the self-proclaimed experts who once declared that hiking with my kids was holding them back—I hate to break it to you. (Actually, that’s a lie, I love it.) But you clearly know nothing about hiking. Or, frankly, about hiking with your children.

Having said that, I will absolutely still hike with them in the future. The thought of not is unbearable. Because despite the snark, the mood swings, the last-minute bailouts, and the occasional attempted mother sacrifice in the face of wild animals—hiking with them has been one of the best things I’ve ever done. And I wouldn't trade it for anything.

But seriously, next time, they can plan around my schedule. Just saying.