Struggles with Progressive Parenting

From the moment I knew I was going to raise a child, the one thing I decided to base all of my parenting principles on was that I would not be like my mother. Since this revelation occurred to me shortly after the birth of my daughter at the precious age of 17, outside of the protection and blessings of a celestial marriage and while still domiciled under the roof of my devoutly religious parents, I wasn’t just creating my own parental identity but an alternate universe of parenting to the one I grew up in.

I envisioned the creation of an open, honest, educational, fun, environment where her inner talents would be nurtured and set free to grow at whatever pace this beautiful little spirit would dictate. This ideal foundation would come from a home free from oppression, repression and above all free from the fear of the wrath of God.

Fast forward 18 years and the result of this plan to launch myself into uncharted parental territory is that I find myself trying to navigate this parallel universe without a tour guide or even a handbook. I see now why people choose a religious lifestyle. It makes parenting so simple. All of the decisions are made for you; all of the difficult discussions have been outlined and approved in advance. There are black and whites and rights and wrongs and someone else made the rules, so you're just the messenger. What I’m doing requires so much thinking and talking - it’s exhausting.

The phone rings. It’s 10:00 pm. My husband is out of town and I’ve only just successfully put the two young children to bed following the double routine of potty, bath, teeth, potty, pajamas, “sleep with me for 1 minute” and finally sleep. I’ve tidied the kitchen, started the wash cycle for the PE kit my son needs to wear the next day, packed the book bags for the morning and have just let myself settle in to read maybe 2 more pages of the book I’ve been struggling to finish for 4 months before I crash into the wall of sleep myself.

Child 1: “Hi Mom. What’s up?”
Me: “Nothing much, just getting ready for bed. What’s going on with you?”
Child 1: “Well….I need to talk to you about something.”

“Crap!” I think to myself. No good can come from the need to talk to me about something. And I’m too tired to deal with what this something might be: she’s failing school; she’s run out of money; the druggie roommate has stolen her new laptop…

Me: “So spill it.”
Child 1: “I’ve been talking with some friends and I’m really scared of losing my virginity.”

Silence.

Child 1: “Mom, are you still there?”
Me: “Yes I’m here.”
Child 1: “Well?”
Me: “Well what? You should be scared. Terrified. Don’t ever do it and you won’t have to worry about it.”

One thing that has proved difficult about having such a large age gap between children is the need to switch from handing out quick, easy, decisive, directives – “Finish your brussel sprouts;” “Don’t hit your brother;” “Stop biting your shirt” - to giving thoughtful, honest, gentle, moral advice phrased to guide responsible choices, but not command a specific course of action.

Child 1: “Mom, seriously. Come on. I’m really upset about this. A bunch of us were talking about it and the ones who have done it say that it’s horrible, painful, you bleed and tear…it’s scary.”

Growing up as the daughter of “the girl who got pregnant in high school,” I always felt strongly that she should not feel any shame or shyness about sex. We’ve openly discussed sex many, many, many times. We’ve talked about the mechanics and physical aspects; we’ve reviewed the emotional repercussions and maturity required; we’ve discussed safety, pregnancy prevention and sexually transmitted diseases. We covered everything – except how to enjoy it.

No matter what your religious or personal morals tell you to teach your children about when it’s appropriate to have sex, the one thing we should all be teaching our girls is that we should enjoy it when it does happen. Talk about a true test of true parenting skills.

It’s difficult to ever think of your kids as “grown up,” but in order to continue this conversation I had to remind myself that by the time I was 18, I was living on my own, working full time, and raising a 1-year-old as a single mother. Grown up is not an age – it’s a state of mind. The more information she has, the more in control of her own body she can be and the more responsible decisions she can make coming from a place of self-confidence and security. Suck it up and talk to her like you know what you are doing.

So we talked about finding the right balance of lubrication and not relying on what comes on a condom to be sufficient. We talked about the benefit of having a partner with whom you are comfortable and can take your time with. That building up to intercourse over months (or even better - years) of “messing around” will teach you about what you and your partner both enjoy.

By the end of the conversation, I felt like Dr. Ruth, which was really hilarious seeing as I’m about the most sexually repressed and confused woman I know. I was just glad this was over the phone so she couldn’t see how much hair I’d pulled out in uncomfortable nervousness during the course of our discussion. Overall, though, I felt relief. She is now headed in a direction so completely opposite to the one I followed at her age that she will have her own alternate universe from which to guide her relationships and thus hopefully avoid the meteor showers I had to navigate my way around.

Me: “So, do you feel better now?”
Child 1: “Yes, much better. Thanks mom.”
Me: “No problem. Now it’s your turn to make me feel better.”
Child 1: “Don’t worry. I’m not going to have sex. Ever.”
Me: “Perfect. Now both of us can sleep well tonight.”

Child 1: “Oh and mom?”
Me: “Yes.”
Child 1: “Don’t tell dad.”
Me: “Never.”