‘There is a cursed mindset of parenting in 2025. And I have it.’

I've been reading Annie Dillard's An American Childhood, a joyful recollection of a relatively normal 1950s childhood.

As a child, the author was essentially free from the age of five to follow her many curiosities — from rock collecting, to wandering a nearby forest looking for insects.

My mind jumps to all the things that could have happened to her as she wandered her neighbourhood unsupervised. She was lucky to be alive.

Interestingly, aliveness is the feeling that jumps from the page when Dillard tells of her childhood.

Watch: The Mamamia team breaks down the difference between parenting now vs the '80s. Post continues below.

This book has bought back memories of my own childhood and made me ponder the times when I felt most alive.

I've realised that my favourite childhood memories involved a hint of danger (real or imagined). It's got me questioning my helicopter tendencies as a parent of a tween and teen — do my children taste enough low-level danger and freedom to feel the aliveness and curiosity that Dillard describes, or that I enjoyed myself as a child?

Do any children these days?

Annie Dillard's mother was, by all accounts, warm, loving and kind. She was also oblivious of where her kids were most of the time.

Was this a good thing? Is life really more dangerous for kids now?

I am not Dillard's mother.

Instead, I am the woman Googling "abduction statistics" when my daughter walks with her friend at dusk. My brain goes straight to Taken any time my son disappears from view for more than 90 seconds.

And yet…I crave that sense of aliveness for them.

I want both: for them to feel alive and for a guarantee that nothing will ever happen to them.

This, I think, is the cursed mindset of modern parenting.

In an attempt to alleviate enough of my anxiety to give my kids the freedom they deserve, I began to research whether life is actually more dangerous now.

Even as I dodge most of the news, the horror stories I do catch regularly enough stick in my mind. The world feels more dangerous.

But it turns out, my research showed that, for the most part, life is safer for kids now than it was in the 70s, 80s and 90s (I couldn't find enough data for the 50s).

Life is not more dangerous. We've just become more anxious.

So anxious that our kids are missing out on feeling the exhilarating independence we were allowed as children.

Watch: If that hit a little too close to home, you're not alone. In this episode of Mamamia Out Loud, the hosts unpack whether helicopter parenting is quietly backfiring. Post continues below.

The purpose of living on the edge a little more.

I used to think of my childhood self as a semi-delinquent. My friends and I were always looking for an adventure — we would look for anything to make something happen to us that we could talk about later.

I remember the thrill of being chased alongside my friends by a stranger (someone's angry Dad) in a revved-up car.

The adrenaline, the laughter, the ridiculous danger of hiding under an upturned boat in a random backyard as he shone his headlights on us, revving his engine and screaming, "If I find ya's, I'll kill ya's!"

Terrifying? Yep. Unforgettable? Also, yep.

It's still one of my favourite memories.

There was one time last year when I managed to allow one of my kids the freedom of being out of my sight for a few hours, and something magical happened.

We were living on a big cattle property, and, one day, my son and his mate took off exploring with our kelpie in tow.

Hours passed before I started to panic and went searching for them.

When I finally found the two boys on a lonely hill at the edge of a forest, they were glowing – sweaty, muddy and breathless with excitement.

They'd been chased by cows, seen wild dogs, fended off huge, angry birds, and nearly stepped on a black snake.

They were buzzing. My son still talks about that day and there's no doubt he'll remember it forever.

Imagine if I had prevented it from happening?

Since then, I've been trying (though often failing) to loosen the grip and say yes to my kid's requests for freedom more often — even if it means they might annoy someone or get chased by a cow.

I'm also regularly pushing myself beyond the known and comfortable, so I can taste the exhilaration I felt at times as a child and remind myself that the tiny possibility of being eaten by a shark while surfing is worth the risk.

Now, I am trying to "calm the rotors" as my husband advises.

Because, despite my anxieties, I know that life doesn't happen when you're safe on the couch.

It happens, sometimes, when you're running breathless through the night, half-laughing, half-hyperventilating, and totally, utterly alive.

For more on parenting, resilience and learning to let go:

• You're not a hot mess. You're just a Type C parent.

• 'It's not a tragedy, it's a transformation.' Four mums on the surprising reality of solo parenting.

• Gentle parenting is all over Instagram. But it's not always gentle on parents.

Feature: Supplied.