No smartphones before high school. More independence. More free play.
If you’ve read The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt (highly recommend!), you’re likely nodding along.
Yes! This!
But what happens when your kid gets hurt during “independent play”?
And the adult who’s supposed to be in charge doesn’t seem to give a shit?
Let’s rewind.
The Setup: New Friends, New Chapter
My 13-year-old started junior high this year.
Same school, new classmates.
Different friends mean new social dynamics for both him and me.
I mean, the socializing has mostly been gaming online, but hey—they all went to the movies once, and I counted that as a win.
Then last week, he was invited to a friend’s cottage for the weekend.
Outdoors!
Real-life bonding!
Me: Slight maternal panic!
I didn’t know the family. But Noah was thrilled.
I texted the parents, met them in person, and asked all the right questions.
They had four kids. They seemed like decent people.
But, against my intuition, which told me I should likely hold off on the weekend away until we’d had a few more in-person hangs…
I said yes in favour of Noah’s social development. In favour of what the anxiety book tells us matters- the idea that he would be outside with his friends instead of on his computer.
Before he left, I handed him my old cell phone (which has no data but works when connected to wi-fi). Just in case.
The Text That Shattered My Boba Bliss
Saturday afternoon. I’m out with my 7-year-old, sipping boba, relishing the freedom of parenting one kid.
And then—ding. A text from Noah.
A photo. Of his knee.
Bleeding.
Apparently, he’d been thrown over the handlebars of a dirt bike (what??) while riding unsupervised. No adults were around. (Thankfully, he wore a helmet.)
He was crying. Alone. Hurt.
The Part Where I Realize Adulting is Optional
I FaceTime Noah. He’s panicked. In pain. Scared.
I call the mom. She’s not at the house. No adults are.
She texts me when she is actually with Noah, “I cleaned it and gave him Tylenol.”
Then I ask if it looks like it needs stitches.
Her reply?
One word.
“Yes.”
No phone call. No reassurance. No sense of urgency.
…and to be clear - I’m a texter. But this was a phone call situation. A conversation between parents where we make a plan.
The Only Thing I Trusted Was My Mama-Bear Instincts
I didn’t have a car. My husband was at Costco getting the tires changed out.
So I called my brother, borrowed his vehicle, and handed over my daughter.
I texted the mom asking her if she could get him to the closest hospital. I would drive the 1.5ish hours to meet them there.
Her reply? “That’s a 35-minute drive for me.”
As if it were a bigger inconvenience for her than the flap of skin dangling off my kid’s knee. Here’s my reply:
…Look, I get it—this situation probably threw a wrench in their Saturday.
Getting a bunch of kids out there. Then, having to drive again because one of them (not even yours!) needs a hospital trip? Not ideal.
But if I had someone else’s kid in my care and they got hurt?
You better believe I’d be in full responsible adult mode: Asking for a photo of their Alberta health card, Googling “nearest urgent care” like it’s my job.
Because that’s what we do.
We show up. We put on our grown-up pants. We take care of each other’s kids.
We’re moms. We’re in the club!
But then I got a call from Noah on my drive. His voice was shaky.
“Can you just come get me? She’s really annoyed.”
When Parents Act Like Babysitters (and Bad Ones at That)
When I arrive at the hospital, (because I ignored the mom’s annoyance at having to drive), it turns out that the Dad drove Noah.
He’s got a “you’re a spaz, why did I have to drive your kid all the way here” look on his face.
I just give a “thanks for driving him”. And b-line it for the triage nurse.
We’re seen quickly.
Shout-out to Dr. Nelly in Vulcan who cleaned the wound, stitched him up, and acted like a real adult.
Noah ends up needing six stitches.
The cut was deeper than we thought. Full of gravelly dirt.
And the whole time I kept thinking: This could have been so much worse.
Sunday Was For Some Big Feelings
The day after, I woke up feeling all of it:
The violation of trust that I had (incorrectly) given.
The rage that someone else’s lack of care had endangered my kid, but also made his injury feel like an inconvenience.
The guilt for ignoring my intuition that could have prevented the whole thing.
The deep, body-level ache of knowing I failed to protect him.
This weight of emotions? My husband was not feeling. Because as mothers, we carry this burden.
Also? I just felt sad.
Today is a new day. And, here’s a reminder to you, and to myself
My mom always says, Every day is a fresh start. On that note - after getting Noah in for his grade 9 tetanus shot today (because gravel in a deep cut is no good)… here are some thoughts:
If you’re trying to raise your kids with more freedom, less screen time, and a taste of “real life,” only to have it all go sideways?
I see you.
We are all trying.
To raise good humans.
To build independence.
To teach trust and responsibility.
To balance “free play” with please don’t die while I’m not there to protect you.
But parenting isn’t all yours to carry. So be kind to yourself.
(Because sometimes, other adults don’t act like responsible grown-ups, and that’s not on you.)
So, Yes to Independence
But also:
✔️ Trust your gut.
✔️ Ask too many questions.
✔️ If you still don’t feel great about leaving your kid with them, say “maybe next time”.
And if your kid ends up hurt despite it all?
You are not a failure.
You are a mother.
And that means you carry the consequences of other people’s bad decisions way more than you should.
Let’s keep trying to give our kids real childhoods.
Let’s also remember we can’t always control the outcome.
And let’s definitely keep our eye rolls (and the appropriate fuck off) ready for every it’s no big deal energy we encounter.
If you’ve ever questioned your own parenting decisions, please know you’re not alone. Share this with someone who might need that reminder today, too.
I’m so sorry that happened. Thanks for putting to paper the duality of what I feel like I am navigating too! Trying to find the right balance is harder than I thought it would be!
I cried. I am so angry that a parent would act like that. I want to know what your next interaction with them is like. Please post a follow-up