Honey, Are You Smokin' De Dope? Are You Kissin' De Boys?

I've always been the sort of mother who doesn't want to know EVERYTHING about her children. Even when they were in high school. Mostly I didn't want to know how they felt about me at times because when you're in high school it's quite common not to completely and utterly adore your mother. Have you noticed this?

And if I wanted to know if one of my kids was, oh, say, smoking pot or having sex, I'd just say, "Honey. Are you getting stoned and having sex?"
And then, no matter what they said, I could tell if they were lying. Which presented a problem because if they were, what was I supposed to do?
Say, "I know you're lying. Now tell me the truth."

Well, that's one option.

The other is to say, "Great. I'm glad you're not having stoned sex but if you ever decide to, let's chat about it, okay, because having stoned sex can lead to all sorts of things like being a mother at the age of fifteen and how are you going to go to school, raise a baby and get employment which you will need to do to pay for the marijuana. And diapers. Because I am not giving my left-over precious cloth diapers to a stoned fifteen-year old mother, even if she is my daughter."

Etc.

This mostly worked for me.
Oh, some of my kids were a little less forthcoming and a lot more adventuresome than I might have wanted but looking back to my own teen-aged years, I don't know that they were any worse than I was. And I always kept that in mind and remembered that somehow, I made it through alive and grew up to have teenagers of my own and live in a brick house with a heating and air-conditioning system.
And since I knew that they were at least as smart as I was at their age, they'd probably manage, too.
Which they have done.

Splendidly!

I remember once when Posey's was still open and I think we were all down there for Mother's Day (and what says Mother's Day like going down to a dive bar on the water and drinking beer and eating oysters with your kids?) and there was a table of college students next to us. One of the girls appeared to be Asian and she was talking very loudly and she was funny. She was telling the table about her dad and the way he handled the sticky issue of trying to get a handle on what your teenager is doing when she's not at home. She did a great imitation of an older Asian man saying things like, "You been smokin' de dope? You been kissin' de boy?"
And so forth.

We still, in our family, sometimes ask this of each other because we all think it's funny. "You been smokin' de dope? You been kissin' de boy?"
And I think it's mostly funny because obviously, all cultures have the same worries about their children. All parents want to know if their children are doing things which can lead them down paths which can only result in tangled and torturous problems but then again, we don't want to know because what if they are?
Shit. Then you have to DO something about it.

Like talk to them about things like sex and drugs which is hard, I don't care how open your family is or how well you've always tried to communicate with them. Kids do not want to even IMAGINE that their parents have ever had sex, although maybe three or four times they must have because look at all these siblings. And so if they pretend that their parents have lived completely chaste albeit affectionate lives together then they also have to believe that Mom has no idea what she's talking about when it comes to sex and so SHUT-UP, SHUT-UP, SHUT-UP!

Right?
Right.

Well, we all stumble through. I remember a long time ago talking to a woman who has spent her life in child-care and has all sorts of doctorial degrees in the subject telling me that she wanted her college-aged daughter to gain some experience in sex before marriage which meant something between being a virgin and taking on the entire football team.
I loved that.
And frankly, I've never had much of a problem with considering the fact that my children might have sex, even before college because hell- that's part of life and that's all there is to it, and when you get down to it, an important part, too.
But I wanted them to be safe and I wanted them to know that because it IS so important it shouldn't be undertaken lightly or with the wrong person.
Blah, blah, blah.

And drugs? Well, I just tried to be open about my experiences without leaving them open-mouthed with disbelief. Let me be quite clear here- any experiences with drugs I may or may not have may have happened a long, long time ago. Having children pretty much took up all the time and energy and money I may or may not have spent otherwise engaged in illegal drug use.

Sometimes I think it would just be so much easier if I were a religious person. The kind of religious person who, when confronted with a worry or a fear or a seemingly insurmountable problem could say Let go and let God. Who could just put it all in a loving diety's hands and go ahead and make fried chicken for the church potluck dinner.
And who when confronted with the need to discuss topics like sex and drugs with their kids could just say NO. Don't do it. You'll burn in hell so forget it.

But I'm not. And I had a bit of a mispent youth and to me, hyprocisy is one of the worst sins of all and although I am rampantly guilty of it at times, I try not to be. And if there's one thing that really ticks me off (and you know there's more than one but for this purpose, I'll limit it to one) it's when a parent who not only smoked de dope and kissed de boys (or girls) when young but injected the dope and had countless meaningless and no doubt unsafe sexual adventures as a younger person grows up to be the sort of parent who gets his or her panties all in a twist if they discover that their own child is nibbling a few apples that don't fall far from the tree.
I mean, come on.
Come the fuck ON.

Look- when I see that a child of mine needs help in any way, I will step in and offer whatever love and support I can give. That goes without saying.

But when it comes to the stuff that almost everyone does and which I may or may not have done myself, I figure, especially after the child is eighteen, that it really is not my business.

Just as certain things in my life are not their business.

And doesn't it all boil down to respect? I know and respect my children and I think they respect me. They certainly know me. I've never pretended to be perfect and I've never thought they were either. Although they're pretty darn close and always amazing. And let's face it- certain things that would cause some parents to lose their minds with worry and concern don't worry or concern me at all.
In fact, I'd be worried if they weren't doing certain things.
Of course, this doesn't mean I want them becoming crack addicts or taking on the entire football team.
But you know, we all have to try things. We all have to figure out for ourselves what's worth our attention, time, energy and money and what is not.
Listen- ya-ya's will come out sooner or later. Get that shit over with before you start having children. That's my thought on the matter.

And if my kids want to tell me about some of this ya-ya'ing, I'm up for it. Well, most of it.
Or at least some of it.
Enough to make me laugh. Enough to satisfy me that they're normal and actually my own child. Because yes, I've ya-ya'ed a few times myself.
I'll admit it. I've smoked de dope. I've kissed the boys.
And sometimes- it was really fun.
And now, looking back from my golden years it makes me giggle to think of those days.
And sigh in wonder that I'm still alive.
With my very own heating and air-conditioning system.
And I hope the same for my children. My very own human children whom I respect so very, very much. And whom, I think, respect me.

Not because I'm perfect, but because I'm human and have been honest with them.
Mostly.
Just as they have been with me.

And that is good enough. No. That is just great.