Like Mother, Like Son
Alex asked me the other day if he could have a girlfriend. His approach was very much like, “Can I have a puppy—I swear mom I’m old enough to take care of it.”
There’s a girl and she’s also fourteen. They like each other.
Well, that’s all find and good, except I’m not going to be one of those moms who lets you go alone in your room. Maybe she can come over and hang out—maybe a movie.
However, the one issue that I can’t sidestep is mom. MY MOM!
See, my kids go to my mom’s house after school until I get home. They practically live at my mother’s house, and just come home for dinner and on the weekends. It’s a shared custody agreement, of sorts. The rules that apply at Oma’s house, don’t always apply to me, however, most of the time, it’s her house, her rules and I cannot risk “standing up to her” because I can’t always deny that her efforts, while sometimes a bit overkill—are not totally unreasonable.
He’s fourteen. He’s the product of two parents who celebrated the birth of their first child before they celebrated their one year anniversary (dating). So it’s easy to say that his level of responsibility is genetically altered from the start. Neither his dad nor I have ever been any pillars of strength when it comes to getting laid (or NOT) so I wade into this water somewhat hesitantly trying to avoid two things:
1) Disregarding his feelings. I do understand what it’s like to have a crush and I try my best not to say stupid things like, “Oh there’s going to be a hundred girls—and you can wait” or “You’re too young to even know what you’re feeling.”
2) Becoming my mother. Lets face it. Like it or not, I was oversexed at a young age, for reasons I don’t know. Even though I didn’t lose my V card until senior year, I was not exactly pure in my actions. The problem is that my mother worked so hard to reign me in that I went the other way. She never talked to me about sex. She simply said “don’t do it” from the time I was eleven. I want to be open with Alex about sex and women in hopes that he won’t have misguided ideals.
I told Alex that I would talk to his dads and see what we come up with. I reminded him that when he’s at Oma’s, I can’t override her rules, which makes life difficult, I know.
Moments later, he said that (this girl) is not allowed to date until tenth grade. Okay, situation averted, I thought.
The he asked, “But could I get girlfriend? If you know, maybe if I meet a girl who doesn’t have to wait until tenth grade? I can date (this girl) later.”
He’s soooo my kid.