Christmas morning, 1996
Note: When my “baby” was approximately 18 months old, I worked with a gal who had two teenagers. This gal was a very “open” person, and would often walk around nude – in front of her kids.
In fact, I remember her telling of a time they went on a family camping trip and she and her husband were naked the entire weekend. {Thankfully, she wore clothing to the office.}
Freedom of expression, to say the least.
Anyway, I remember asking this mom about parenting her teens, since teenagers to me at that time was akin to being a foreigner in a foreign land.
And I will never forget her answer.
She said, “Well, if you really know who your kids are, you’ll be fine.”
Knowing who your kids are?
That, and keeping your clothes on.
This ain’t our first rodeo.
Or second.
You would think we’d be experts by now, with an estimated 20 years of parenting under our belts. Honestly, we’re just tired.
And 20 years older.
Old and tired is not an effective parenting combination.
Thankfully, for us, our youngest son is a pretty darn easy kid. He doesn’t cause much grief, and usually is rather enjoyable.
Usually, being the key word.
You could argue the “birth order” theory. The first child is given freedom based on two very cautious parents, which means he got none. The second child was given slightly more freedom, partially based on the behavior of the first and partially because the second child was female.
I’m sorry second child, but being female, by nature, changes the rules of the game. I know you hated it (us) because of that, but we did our parenting best to protect you in ways we didn’t have to with your brother. I’m sure it felt like a chain was around your neck most days. It’s called parenting a daughter.
By the time the third child becomes a teenager, the reins are so loose, we’re just happy when he seems to find his way home. On time, and in one piece.
Our third child, the 15- year old, has his own cell phone (of course!) and has for years. Mainly because he got his big brother’s phone after high school graduation. And mainly because when we lived on the North Side of the Mountain, we didn’t have a house phone and needed a way to contact him.
I never look at his cell phone. Doesn’t mean I won’t, but at this juncture, he has not given me motive. And I like not having a motive. I don’t browse his texts (not that I would know how, exactly), I don’t look at his contacts. I do tell him absolutely no texting and driving. And no phone calls while driving.
Until recently, we haven’t really talked about “sexting,” but sadly the Bozeman High School track coach was recently arrested for “allegedly” sexting several 14- year old girls.
When I asked my son what he thought about it, he said simply, “The track coach is dumb.”
Can’t argue that answer.
Third child has X-Box Live in his room, and only when two or more classes have “slipped to C level” do we take matters into our own hands. We believe in self-monitoring, and Sexy Hubby and I realize we have certainly widened the boundaries with the third child, yet feel he has earned it.
Although third child still complains saying, “So-and-so thinks you and dad are so strict.”
Good.
That means we are doing our job.
But, the second his grades slip or he get’s in trouble, we will re-evaluate the electronics that make up his 15- year old world and our permissive style. So far, we haven’t needed to do any re-evaluating.
So far. So good.
I am “friends” with all my children on Facebook, even though two of my “children” are adults. Again, so far, no need for any concern. It’s fun to see that the only thing third child posts is how he can’t wait for winter and skiing. He loves winter, which makes me question the origin of this child?
I don’t know if it’s because we live in a state like Montana, where hunting is practically a right of passage, but we recently let our son go out hunting with a kid named Buffalo and Buffalo’s parent, whom we have never met.
Crazy? Perhaps, but I leave the hunting stuff to Sexy Hubby, and if says it’s “A-OK” then I say it’s “A-OK”.
Irresponsible? No chance. Our son has passed the Montana Hunter’s Safety Course, and Sexy Hubby is stringent on gun safety and practicing “safe arms.” I was not worried, as I know my son is cautious by nature. He always has been. And from the time he was allowed to handle a firearm, he has been under the strict supervision of his father, who will take the serious nature of gun safety to his grave.
A few years ago, while driving home from school, third child says, “Mom, I heard something at school today that’s confusing?”
Me: “What is it, sweetheart?”
Son: “Well, we talked about sex today. Mom, what’s an orgasm?”
Mom: Choking, trying not to run the car off into the ditch. Mind searching, racing. In my head are the words “Answer the question asked, nothing more.” When I finally found my voice, I squeaked out, “It’s what happens at the end, when the sperm comes out.”
Son: “Oh.”
Mom: {Wiping a sweating brow, glad this conversation was over.}
We got our first snow of the season yesterday, and because third child only got his driver’s license in July, he has not yet driven on slushy, snow-covered roads. I called him from my office to warn him of the road conditions and to be super, super, super careful driving home.
He snickered and said, “Mom, you know me. You know me. I am a very cautious driver. And, I already tested my tires and brakes.”
I know him?
I know him.
I know him!
And that my friends, is the KEY to parenting in the Brave New World.
Communication. And knowing your child. Inside and out.
And the moment your child recognizes you are in this together, to help one another, it’s a beautiful and freeing moment. I felt like a butterfly with wings, flying away to my happy place.
That and the fact he just walked in the door, home safe and sound, excited and delighted to tell me how he “was testing his brakes and fishtailed” – and by the smile on his face, I could tell he was enjoying the fact he was torturing me.
My wine glass in empty.
Time for a refill.
Teenagers will do that to a mother.
They make us very thirsty.
