Saturday, June 9, 2012

where are the rules?

My son is home for the summer from college.  Thursday night he and some friends from high school met up with some friends from college and went to a concert.  Here’s my son (on the left) before leaving.


I call him at midnight and he’s back at his friend’s house.  He tells me he’s sleeping over.  When I ask why, he caves and tells me the truth.  “Ok, I’m not sleeping over, but one of my friends (a girl) was so drunk she ended up at the hospital and I want to go see her and make sure she is okay.”

He does, and she is, but still. 

My son and his friends are smart kids, if the colleges they go to are any way to judge.  But the teenaged mind is a funny thing; it causes stupid behavior.

My son was born around 2am.  I was grateful he was born in the wee hours of the morning, as the hospital then let me stay an extra day.  I went to Lenox Hill Hospital on November 10, 1992, around 4pm.  It was a Tuesday, and I had been in some type of labor since waking in the middle of the previous Sunday night.  Eric, my son’s father, met me at the hospital and stayed with me through my son’s birth.  This was a wonderful surprise since Eric and I barely spoke throughout my pregnancy.  I was 41 and he was a young 29.  He was definitely not planning on becoming a parent quite yet.

The labor and delivery went smoothly, and like all births, my life was irrevocably changed in an instant.  I had no idea how to be a mother, but was allowed to stay at the hospital until Friday where I was taught the basics of breast-feeding and diaper changing.  Here's me and my mom leaving the hospital.

Fortunately, my baby developed at the same speed that I learned.  Until he got older.

I am good at following rules.  I am organized and like order in my life.  When I wanted to lose 40 pounds a few years ago, I joined Weight Watchers, followed their rules, and poof, in 8 months all my excess weight was gone.  In school, I was an all-A student, because there too, the rules are spelled out.  Study, don’t miss deadlines, go to class, and you will do well.

But where are the rules for mothering a teen?

It’s so much easier to manage one’s own life than to parent someone else’s.


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