This is still an issue?

My husband and I went to a party for his work last weekend. We had fun, but unfortunately, I can't escape my "teen parent" label for even one night. Here’s the story. We sat at a table with his colleagues whom I have never met. I was talking to the husband of a woman my husband works with (hereafter known as the Amazon woman from hell). We were sitting there talking about turkeys for Thanksgiving - organic vs regular – inhuman farming of turkeys etc. Dumb crap that is pretty boring actually. Again, these are complete strangers, so what else do you talk about but dumb crap?

There was a pause in conversation and the Amazon woman from hell says to me,

“So how old were you when you had your first child?”

Now I have dealt with this question a million times in my life. I find it to be a bit blunt and rude, but I’m used to people asking. However, generally it happens when we are in a conversation about my kids so I’m a bit more prepared for it. I nearly choked on my salad because it was so out of the blue.

I answered, “17.”
“You were so young.”
“Yes.”
“Do you regret it?”

I am not kidding. She actually said that. Out loud. At a table with 10 strangers.

“Absolutely not!”
“But you had your other children when you were older?”
“Obviously.”
“Don’t you now wish you wouldn’t have had one so young?”

Seriously hideous right? But wait, it gets better.

“No, actually I wish I had my other two when I was younger!” I pause and add a light laugh to lift the tone of this wretchedly uncomfortable conversation, “I’m incredibly tired now.”
“Well, I waited to have my first child until I was 36. When I think now about having a child when I was, say 20, I was so immature and so selfish, having a child at that age would’ve been so wrong for the child.”

GIANT AWKWARD PAUSE

“Well, everyone is different I guess.”

At that point I turned and kept my back to her and her husband for the rest of the meal.

Again, I have dealt with people’s shock and dismay my entire adult life. I have to say, it’s always a bit annoying and it does sometimes hurt, but this was probably the worst and most distressing conversation I have EVER had. I know people have their opinions about young mothers and most probably believe that having children at 17 is a very bad thing – almost on the same page as murder in some circles. I hear it thrown out as the litmus test for parenting all the time, "Yes, your daughter may have failed geometry in high school. She may have dabbled in drugs and snuck out of the house nearly every weekend - but hey, AT LEAST SHE DIDN'T GET PREGNANT." I try not to take that personally.

I have been verbally accosted in incredibly inappropriate and aggressive ways before. When I was pregnant, people would come up to me at least once a day and ask if I had "picked parents for my child" because they knew a "wonderful, married, rich deserving couple who woud love my baby and give it every opportunity." Oh - excuse me and your name is??? It's a amazing how my teenage pregnancy and subsequent parenting have been assumed to be a matter suitable for public opinion.

However obnoxious and oblivious the comments are generally, very rarely have people actually accused me to my face of ruining my child’s life just by having her (although, it has happened more often than I care to remember). I am so angry at what the Amazon woman from hell said to me. Not only because of the audacity of it, but mostly because when I know the conversation is coming – when I meet someone new and they ask about how old my kids are - I am automatically prepared with my standard deflective phrases. She caught me so completely off guard that I had nothing witty or biting to say back to her. What also pissed me off is that my husband was engaged in a conversation with the woman next to him and missed the whole thing, so he didn’t intervene or speak on my behalf. I felt so alone and pushed into a corner and interrogated. It was weird. I'm not that easily intimidated.

What’s bugging me still and why I'm writing this is all of the things running through my head now. The fact that in reality, I feel like a terrible mother almost all the time. But usually not to my oldest. She’s the one I feel is my success story. I know she had to deal with a lot of different issues and more complicated situations than my other kids, but they are still works in progress and with her - I'm now simply putting the icing on a very well-cooked, and beautifully formed, cake.

I've already raised a child who displays incredible intelligence (emotional and mental), logic, honesty, warmth and compassion. All of these things I believe – no - rephrase - I KNOW – she gained from her experiences growing up with me. I realize she was born who she is - I'm not attempting to take credit for creating those wonderful personality traits, but living her life gave her a chance to flex her emotional muscles and grow as a person herself. I am lucky to have her, and grateful for that inner strength of hers which allowed me to be imperfect and gain my footing as a young, single parent and yet somehow emerge an experienced, battle-scarred, parenting genius! I have no doubt she can look back at her life and complain about my parenting (she has to have someone to blame for everything right?), but she is mature beyond her years and a wonderfully successful, thoughtful, law-abiding, well-adjusted adult - and best of all - SHE DIDN'T GET PREGNANT!! What more can anyone want from parenting than that?

I rock.

I know – I’m being defensive and I shouldn’t be. I am so bothered that this woman got to me. I wish I had another chance at that conversation and I would KICK HER AMAZON ASS!

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.”