I'm the Mother of Hovering

My friend, an American author living in Paris, was chatting with me the other day about how people in her life including the ones whom she loves tend to hover over her when she needs to get her own things done. I said to her, "hey, I detected some negative tones hovering around the word 'hover.'"

I confess I am the mother of hovering. I used to hover around my hubby a lot. I try not to. I would still like to. I am more of a Hoover, the brand name vacuum machine. I hover around to help, big time. However, the practical part of my hovering doesn't make it more of a virtue. In my mature assessment, to hover means that you bother people, more or less, with your emotional needs by offering to fulfill their needs even when they don't really need it, at least at the time of being hovered.

To hover means you don't have much of your own things to do. This is my case, maybe, but not entirely. I did have to spend 11 years pursuing higher education and to have several academic credentials under my belt. And I have a full time job working in a comfort prison with only evening and weekend parole... But somehow I always have the time to hover. That's because I am an efficient person. When I am GIVEN something to do, I finish it very fast. People always see me rush somewhere as if I am on an urgent mission. In fact, I am only rushing to get there and sit down and do nothing. So the idling mood could easily be switched to the act of hovering.

Every Saturday morning, i drop off my daughter Sienna at her ballet class, then i would drive through a coffee shop and drive along extra 10 minutes to get to my friend Yiga's house, a piano teacher. I march into her studio to give her her cup of morning coffee and bagel. I would really hover around over there if she hasn't started her piano lesson.

My friend Abby, a lady of leisure and with extreme cultural refinement, is the best person to hover around with. It kind of goes both away. One of the things we do: we flip the TV channels while on the phone with each other. Despite the vast cutural differences, me an original commie from China, her, a Jewish princess, we see eye to eye on just about everything we see on TV, or in life, for that matter. Last night, we were on a documentary that had subtitles on part of it. I was reading out loud the subtitles. Abby asked, "do you think I cannot read it or I cannot hear it?" Two minutes later, she started reading herself.

My Paris friend suggested the best way to refrain a kind-hearted hoverer (like me,) from unwanted hovering is to send him or her on projects. Absolutely right! I think motherhood is the best thing that happened to me when it comes to hovering. It's a project that will last me a life time. From what I learnt about moderate hovering, I learnt to give my child protection as well as space. I am not just here to offer love, but tough love. I don't just take care of my daughter, I teach her how to take care of herself. In any case, I will forever hover around over her, watching her and helping her. It's hovering in its ultimate and finest state of operation.