chill mom – A parent sets out to be the kind of caregiver who lets a child figure things out. But when her son would only sleep in his crib, and later struggles with emotional regulation and high-alert nervous system, she learns that autonomy doesn’t erase the need for ti
“I really want to be a chill mom.”
The hope sounds simple: no hovering, no helicopter parenting, no turning a child into the center of everything. The image she wants is almost cinematic—sitting on the porch with a beer while her child plays and figures things out, becoming an independent person instead of a shielded one.
Then her son arrives, and the plan breaks on the smallest daily friction: sleep.
Before birth. she expected that her son would adapt—she and his dad would take him everywhere. letting him sleep “when he needed to sleep. ” learning flexibility along the way. A friend offered a similar story: her baby daughter fell asleep in all kinds of places. including “the middle of the floor at a crowded party. ” while her parents still enjoyed their social lives with the infant strapped to their chests.
But when her son was small, he refused to fall asleep anywhere but in his crib. If he got tired enough, it wasn’t just that he finally crashed—it was that he screamed for hours. The household had to shift. She and his dad became strict about being home at naptimes and at bedtime. “not because we wanted to. but because it was what worked for him.”.
As her son grew, the gap between the mother she wanted to be and the mother she had to become widened. She wanted “90s kid summers,” letting him play outside for long, unstructured afternoons. What she learned instead was that he thrived on structure and predictability.
She still wants the version of parenting that lets her socialize. She wanted to sit and gossip with friends while her son played in another room with their kids. But she learned those moments often turned into fights and tears. For her son, emotional regulation is hard. Like many neurodivergent kids. if there isn’t an adult keeping an eye on him. things can go south “very fast.”.
And yet autonomy remains central to who he is.
Her son’s nervous system stays “constantly on high alert,” which makes control a big deal. He wants to brush his own teeth, choose his own clothes, and make his own decisions. The day-to-day examples are small but telling: she can’t just hand him dessert and expect compliance; he has to choose one from the box.
So the job becomes a balancing act—respecting and fostering his need for independence while also providing enough structure and guidance to prevent meltdowns. Sometimes choices are essential. Other times, choices tip into overwhelm. Sometimes letting him run around with friends at an outdoor concert turns into a “magical night” catching fireflies. Other times it ends with him screaming and her dragging him back to the car.
The picture is not only difficult. There are things that come easily to him—things other kids might struggle with, and other parents might not expect.
He can sit through a three-hour musical and then discuss the characters’ backstories and motivations in great detail afterward. He can carry on a genuinely interesting conversation with a table full of adults about topics ranging from reincarnation (“I think I will come back as a kitten”) to where the Easter Bunny lives (“the East pole”). He is also “very popular” at her parents’ retirement home.
But even success can arrive with a jolt of contrast. When he was in kindergarten, he got suspended for kicking the principal in the head. Later that same afternoon. he astonished a group of her colleagues by sitting perfectly still and paying close attention to a new play reading. She describes the emotional whiplash of watching a child swing from “feeling like a terrible mom” to “an amazing mom so quickly.”.
For her, the most important lesson has been separating her child from her expectations.
She doesn’t believe her son’s strengths or challenges have much to do with what she has done. It’s easy to treat children as reflections of their parents. she says. but her son is “very much his own independent person.” Before she had him. she spent time thinking about a parenting philosophy—reading books. talking to friends about approaches. imagining that parenting could be chosen in the abstract.
Now she realizes that her philosophy can’t come from books or friends, or from who she is. It has to come from who her child is, what he needs, and it has to keep changing.
She feels like she gets it wrong most of the time. It would be easier if there were clear guidelines. Even so, she never doubts one thing: how much she loves her son.
So she keeps paying attention and keeps trusting that even if her parenting journey doesn’t look like the version she once imagined, her love can be enough—something steady to guide them through each new challenge.
chill parenting helicopter parenting neurodivergent child emotional regulation parenting structure sleep routine autonomy routine and predictability kindergarten suspension play reading