Well, THAT was fast…
So, remember a whole three days ago when I posted here about the first girlfriend, and also, first kiss? Well, it seems that it wasn’t a match made in heaven. Give me a moment while I mourn. Ok, I’m done!
It seems that C wanted to talk, and in the interest of ‘preserving their friendship’ she was already ready to let this whole Dating My Son thing go. The Boy is actually handling it fine, he just shrugged and was pretty “whatever” about the whole thing. It was, after all, only a few days. This opened up some fun conversations though as we talked through it on the way to his friends house. To give you an idea of just how irreverent a mother I am, here’s how it went.
Me: So, you ok?
(Note: This is not the irreverent part. I’m not THAT heartless.)
Him: Yeah, I’m fine.
Me: Think maybe she got spooked by Z and B’s breakup and how they’re not really friends anymore?
Him: s’possible. She didn’t really say. She just wants to be sure we stay friends.
Me: Guess that’s ok. NOT Friends with Benefits though.
Him: But MOOOOOOOOOOM! (chuckle, chuckle)
Me: school starts wednesday though. Lots of new girls. Without boyfriends.
Him: yeaaaaaaah. (smirky grin that I love so much – because it’s just like mine.)
Me: You know, I think the NEXT time you get a girlfriend, you should at least be able to take her out on an official date before she breaks up with you.
Him: Yeah, that’d probably be best.
Me: Unless the kissing is just REALLY that bad…
Him: (…blush.)
Me: I meant YOUR kissing, by the wa….OW! What was THAT for?!
Him: because.
Me: harumph. Fine. We won’t discuss the quality of your kissing then. Whatever.
Me: You know, your papa will be disappointed.
Him: Why?
Me: he had a whole bunch of jokes ready with her name.
Him: awww. I’ll find him another good one.
(A car speeds by, with a couple girls waving at him – he was driving during these conversations, did I not mention that? Driving lessons will be covered another day. When my heart resumes normal speed.)
Me: someone you know?
Him: Nope. Someone I might wanna know.
Me: You’ve been broken up for THREE WHOLE HOURS… and you’re ALREADY trolling?
Him: what can I say..
Me: You DOG you. Your daddy would be SO proud.
Him: I know, huh?
Me: (groans.) I’m doomed. DOOMED!
Him: heh.heh.heh.
So there you have it. A prime example of how to talk to your teenagers. Well, if your kids are my kids, anyway. And if you were me… ok – so this is just an example of the kind of tomfoolery that happens even when we talk of semi-sensitive matters.
Just wait till you see how I handled THE talk…
Soooo..
…the first week of having 18 gazillion blogs to work on didn’t kill me. It made me stronger! HA! or something. In the midst of that, someone (Hi Sarah!) asked for details – you can find some more of them over here, with more to come shortly, as there’s been.. well, a development. Heh. So stay tuned for that. Yup.
(Um, someone go make sure the Nana didn’t hurt herself when she fainted, there, huh? cuz I didn’t mean it that way! not THAT kind of development!)
Then, on Friday, I took a bit of a break because I had a Very Important Visitor. It’s been over a year since I’ve seen him, and I got to spend a full 24 hours cementing myself as the Best! Aunty! Ever! a role that I am completely comfortable with. Just ask the nephews and niece that live around the corner!
We did have a clash of wills at one point, but as that poor baby learned (just like oh so many before him) – I dated his father, a McD man. I married his uncle, a McD man. AND I gave birth to a McD boy. NO ONE can out stubborn me. It was a lesson that took about 45 minutes of screaming (him) and a strong embrace (me) coupled with calm soft words (also me) and an infinite amount of patience for the little guys (stop laughing mom, that too was me!) until he realized something that all the McD men eventually have to admit…
I win.
Lucky for them, I’m usually right, too. (grin) Even so, we had a lovely day together, and I hope that he is allowed to come and visit again. I even had the Buglet come to spend the night too, so that he had a playmate about his own age. They had a little while of jealousy over the Auntie, but then they settled into playing like boys should – ie: fighting and making up and playing and infinite questions of “Where’s my friend?” followed by “OH! there he is!”
They even agreed that there was enough Auntie Lessa lap for the both of them. See?
So thanks, ya’ll for letting him come spend some time with us – let him come again soon!
The Friends.
As parents of teenagers, I’m sure you know that no matter how many kids you actually gave BIRTH too, you’ll become mom to a whole plethora of random souls that follow your teenagers home. There’s the friends, the friends’ friends, boyfriends and girlfriends(SOB!) and all of the friends’ girlfriends and/or boyfriends. The front of your house resembles a revolving door as the ever changing dynamic brings different groups to your house.
And once they are there – they eat.
They eat a LOT.
(What they DON’T do, however, is dishes. Dammit.)
I’ve been generally lucky with both of my teenagers choices in friends. There’s a solid core group for each of them, and the majority of those friends I like. I think I’d like them even if I gave birth to them and had been stuck with them for the past 16+ years. They call me mom (indeed, most don’t even know my real name) and since my house is the one closest to their schools, they parade in and out between school and work and the drive home to check in, make phone calls, check their work schedules (I keep copies of ALL the kids’ schedules for them – mine plus friends)… and eat.
Fortunately, I’ve discovered that – while not exactly the healthiest choice, it’s certainly one of the cheapest – they love cup of noodles. Any day of the week, you can find at least two, and sometimes three or more, teenagers in my kitchen, vying for the stash, the water, and the microwaves so that they can make their snack. One of the boys, Z, works at a store that has a Chinese Food Stand, and thus a bunch of soy sauce packets and chopsticks for the taking when you buy a meal. He buys the meal, grabs extras, and then the kids don’t even dirty my silverware to eat. A cup o’noodles, a set of cheap/free wooden chopsticks, and they’re happy as clams.
If clams liked cup o’noodles, that is.
I like this little ritual, though I’d never tell THEM that. I love that they feel that my house is a safe place to be, that they’ve somewhere – someone to turn too, even if it’s for something so simple as a snack. Those that drive have ‘their’ parking spots, and they repay my steady supply of noodlage by giving my kids rides here, there and everywhere. (With the price of gas what it is, I’m pretty sure I’m coming out on the good side of THAT deal.)
They talk to me, too, and it’s not just because they swear I have the mind of a 16 year old boy. At least I don’t think it’s just because of that – but either way, they come to me when they need help, and feel they can’t go to their parents. That’s not to say I wouldn’t call said parents if the situation warranted it, but usually it doesn’t.
This openness is how I ended up with B. sleeping on my couch.
B was Z’s girlfriend at the time. Z is one of The Boy’s friends. She’s a lovely girl, all attitude and smiles and piercings and multicolored hair – and she’d had a bit of a raw deal dealt her. Her mom died in 2000, her dad had her live with her grandparents after that. It was rough going, and though she had the support of another set of grandparents, it was just rough. The night they kicked her out/she left, they came directly to me.
There was no way I was gonna let her sleep in Z’s car somewhere, so I made sure she knew she was welcome to stay with me. I let her relax for the night, but the next day came the hard part.
Many think I’m a pushover, but my kids (and their friends) would tell you otherwise. There are consequences to your actions, and when you are kicked out/moved out of your house at 17, one of them that all important phone call. I had B call her grandparents, and let her know she was safe. Then she called her manager, explained truthfully what happened and why she missed work, and walked her through how to make it sound right and keep her job. Then I made sure she had her meds, her paycheck, access to everything she needed. And when her other grandmother called me, I was honest with her and let her know what was going on, exactly.
As worried and scared at the new situation that B was, I think she appreciated my lead and help during the month she lived with me. In fact, I know she did, because she just invited me over to her new apartment for dinner two nights ago. She turns 18 in two weeks, found herself a roommate, and let me help her find a kitten. Her dad showed up with some furniture, pots and pans and such, and between us we got her settled in well.
And don’t think that she’s off the hook! I talk to her daily, usually via txt (I know, I’m SO freakin hip!), usually initiated by her. I nag her about her meds, I nag her about her money, I make sure she has food, I make sure she has rent, and I make sure she’s checked in with her grandparents and dad. She knows she can come to me no matter what – she even uses me as her emergency contact number. She’s one of my kids now – how could I treat her any different then I would my own?
It’s a fine line to walk, that of parent and friend, at any age, but they all know – as lenient as I can sometimes be in some situations, I am no pushover. And I love nothing more then to look at them, grin big, throw up my hands and crow…
“I WIN!”
Oh dear. IT happened!
I knew it would. I mean, part of me hoped it would sooner or later, though if I’m perfectly honest, I was pulling for the ‘later’. Then I found, when it DID happen, that just saying the WORD made me want to cry. So here it is.
My son, my strong, quiet, shy, loving and lovable child of just 16 years old, has his first girlfriend.
Ouch. That hurts. And don’t think I miss the irony of having written this post just 24 hours beforehand – or that Nana wrote this one yesterday, either!
You see, before this, all the jokes were of the “you know, it’ll happen EVENTUALLY” variety. Now, all of the sudden, eventually seems a whole lot closer then I was ready to acknowledge! I know that it was luck that had him quietly NOT dating this long, but now all bets are off. So the questions start.
Did I really teach him well enough?
Will he be respectful to her?
Will she break his heart and am I going to REALLY hurt her for doing so?
Will they wait (omgwaitPLEASEWAIT) until they’re (..I’m! Wait until I’m…) ready before taking things farther then the kiss (OMG HE GOT HIS FIRST KISS!?!)
What is the expiration date on those condoms, anyway and HEY! WHY ARE SOME MISSING? (I’m looking at YOU Z/B! How could you forget Rule Number Two?)
To be honest, I know the answers to those questions already, but the mom in me can’t help but wonder, as my heart breaks just a tiny bit. He was bound to grow up – hell, the child has been taller then me since he was 13, and he stands a towering 6 foot tall now over my mere 5’6″. And he’s built like a freakin linebacker, to boot. Even so, he’s always been my baby – my firstborn, my only son.
His daddy was very big on respect toward women, and those lessons are impossible to forget, as he’d heard them since he was born. Open the doors, carry the bags/books, be polite, be respectful, never EVER raise your hand against a lady in anger. He also had my influence too, of course. Girls like this, HATE that, find someone you can talk too, chemistry is nice but forever is a LONG TIME, take your time, be their friend first – everything else will come, talk to me, talk to me, talk TO ME.
As such, The Boy has always been ‘the friend’ to the girls in his group of peers, as well as his sister’s friends, and random girls who’s lockers were near his. He gives great hugs, and has strong shoulders that can carry any load. Girls talk to him, they seek him out when they need reassurance in the form of a hug and quiet, non-judgmental understanding. And even so, my shy boy never once thought he was noticed, never thought the girls knew he existed. “They know,” I’d tell him often. “They know – just wait and see. The smart girls marry their friends, like I did. Your time will come.”
His time is here. We’ve teased him for months that this co-worker liked him. We’d pointed out all of the evidence, but he’d just shake his head, maybe blush a little. We teased, but we knew he’d have to be ready, and he’d take his time. Then, with one last nudge of his friend Z who wrote the all important txt message that opened the conversation, holding it to The Boy’s hand so that he actually pushed send, he made his move. A move she’d obviously been waiting for. (She did, however, make him ask her out in person, not in text. That gets points with Mama!)
So there it is. I’ll have to get used to saying it. My son has a g…gi…gir…girlfriend. We’ve waited for it, expected it, wondered when it would happen – and now? All I want to do is take it back, take it ALL back, and go back to when he ran up and down the hallway screaming “Mama I LOVE you!” at the top of lungs, while I chased his tiny 2 year old form until I caught him, and we hugged and laughed until we couldn’t breathe.
Now I have to share his heart, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that. I guess I should have paid attention to all those books we read about sharing when the kids were younger. I didn’t, and thus – in the immortal words of those same kids – I’ll end with this:
“BUT I DON’T WANT TO!”
Do you myspace?
It’s one of those hotbutton issues – do you myspace? Do you let you kids myspace? What about facebook? or whatever other Social Networks are out there where evil predators could lurk and steal your preshush beebees innocence? And more importantly – do YOU know what they’re doing while online?
The rules at my house were simple – no computers with internet access in their rooms until they could prove to me they’d behave. We started with little things – club penguin for the youngest, Disney Channel online, Cartoon Network, those kind of things. Then, the inevitable question came. “Mom, can I get a myspace?”
Note that my kids ASKED me first. I know that not many kids ask their parents, or feel they need too, but my kids knew better. Because they asked, it also allowed me to set down guidelines for them too.
I set up the accounts for them, just as I had set up their email addresses before. The rules were the same – you can change the password, but if I ask, you give it up freely, or I shut it down. And then I added them to my friends list, which lets me keep track if I want to as well.
Now, I’m not a super snoopy mom. I don’t check their accounts obsessively, I don’t even flip over to their profile more then once a month or so. But they know that I CAN. At any point in time I CAN. I find that fear of mom is a much better motivator then my actually having to invade their privacy. As I’ve told them often -if you act like my eyeballs are carried around a chain around your neck, and that I CAN SEE EVERYTHING, then you won’t do anything you don’t want me to see, right? (It helps that they’re a little gullible too – like the time I convinced them a friend of mine could spy on their computer activities via AIM. THAT one was golden! To this day they still think J. could tell what they were doing online while I was on vacation!)
I find that my kids and their friends don’t mind my being a Myspace Mom, all told. In fact, I’m one of the highest priced pets in the “By your friends as pets” war, and have been passed around to all their friends as everyone tries to ‘own’ me. I always wanted to be the cool mom, and it seems that I’ve achieved that goal in style!
So while some teens treat this kind of joining by parents as an intrusion, I think the important issue here is how you’ve talked to your kids about the whole internet Social Media deal. Are your guidelines reasonable? Are you giving them the room to spread their wings, do you trust that you’ve taught them enough to fly? It’s hard to balance the protectiveness with letting go, but it’s exactly what we have to do.
It all starts by talking to your kids. Start early, but if you haven’t – the time to start is now.
