In the Nicest Way Possible
This is one of the subjects that made me want to start blogging again. Something I haven’t had to deal with yet but that keeps me awake at night. Teens and sex. No one talks about it, there’s so much stigma attached to it, but I feel like I have to get some stuff out that’s clouding up my head.
This is the first summer that none of my kids have been shipped to my mother in Oklahoma. And so far, almost a month in, I hate it. And I only have two of them here because Sunshine is living near her college, working and taking classes. This leaves me only Moonshine and Tenderheart to bicker through the summer. It’s going to be a long, hot summer. How can I already be looking forward to Fall?
Moonshine wouldn’t go to Oklahoma though because she has a boyfriend and a job. Her priorities are in that order and I have become the sex police, a professional cock blocker if you will, but I also have an actual job. And then I think, well, she’s 16 and what was I doing at 16, and then I lock her up and don’t let her leave her room. It’s getting bad. I can’t watch them every minute of every day, and when they’re at his house, I have to trust that his parents are as vigilant.
Here’s my problem, I started having sex at an age that I now consider too young. And my thoughts on sex are skewed because of my life experiences and I have my own set of issues. And I wonder if I’ve talked enough, taught them enough. One day on the way taking Tenderheart to school, I told her two life stories and she said, What is this, training day? She’s already over me.
And then I wonder, what’s the end game here? I wonder that about a lot of things, my life, my future, my job, but especially about my current job as the sex police. Is there a “good” age where it’s okay for them to have sex? Is that 18? Because at 18, two of my kids are still going to be in high school. Is it graduation, is it college, what age is “acceptable” when it comes to teens and sex? Is it never? Please say it’s never. And ultimately, at some point, it all boils down to protection, right? You want them to know that even though they’re an absolute blessing, that kids will ruin their life. You know, in the nicest way possible. I have three girls and I’ve told them from forever that pregnancy is the least bad thing you can get from unprotected sex, and that’s still pretty darn bad when you’re a teen.
In my house we talk about everything. Some would say too much. But I’d rather know too much than nothing at all. I want to hear about so-and-so and such-and-such, but the double edged sword is when you hear about what so-and-so did and it makes you want to cringe but you can’t because you’ve set it up that way where it’s a safe place for them to tell you anything. Sometimes I want to bleach my ears because of things they’ve told me that I’ll never get out of my head, and I want to call so-and-so’s parents and tell them what she’s doing!!
Here’s the thing. I lived with a liar for….let’s just say a lot of years, and not the cute white lie kind who tells you that you don’t look fat in those jeans, the sociopathic kind that makes you feel like you’re going crazy. So I have what I consider a little PTSD when it comes to lying. I don’t care what you say to me, just don’t lie to me. That goes for my kids as well. I don’t care how bad it is, I can’t tolerate you lying or keeping things from me. Can you imagine living with me? I can’t even stand it and I don’t have much of a choice. So I know I don’t want to set up an environment where there’s sneaking around and lying, but I’m also not some new-age hippie who’s all about free love. As my mother would say, Doesn’t anyone wait for marriage anymore?