My parents never knew where I was. They sometimes *thought * they did. They were invariably mistaken. I was a rotten kid.
I don’t worry as much about where my daughter is as I do about who she’s with. She has a core group of friends that I know, like, and trust (within reason), and if she’s with them, I don’t worry too much. Her school night curfew is 11:00, her weekend/summer curfew is flexible, depending on what she’s doing, and with the understanding that she’s to keep me posted.
She’s sixteen. I expect that between now and the time she’s on her own, she’s going to drink, she’s going to smoke, she’s going to screw. I did all of those things, and somehow still grew into a contributing member of society. She knows, of course, that I’d rather she *didn’t * do those things. But she also knows that if she does, and needs my help, she’s going to get it, without a rain of fire. A stern talking to, sure. But a sixteen year old coming home drunk is not the end of the world, or a harbinger of future dereliction, and I think that pulling weeds with hangover is punishment enough.
My father believed in the Eisenhower Management method of parenting: Don’t let anything get back to him, or he’d belt the hell out of you. (I once hit the floor so hard during one of these rages that I not only bounced, but my metal watch band shattered). Also, as my older siblings would tend to be told ‘no’ on things they’d ask permission for a good deal of time after one of us got into trouble, we tended to self-police each other out of self interest.
Of course those were different times & today that would get you a court date.
I entered my teens in the '70’s, and my mom was pretty cool about curfews. After I got to be about 16 or so, I would tell her what time I expected to be home. If she agreed, fine. If she thought it was too late we would discuss it and reach a compromise. I always knew that if I was going to be even a minute late, I had to call or face a worried angry mother.
Once when I was 16 or so I was going out with some friends on a weekend night. As I got ready to leave, I told my mom I would be home at midnight. The guy she was dating at the time threw a hissy fit. “I can not believe you are going to let that child stay out until midnight! Why, at her age she needs to be in at 9:30 at the latest!” And so on, working himself up into quite a little rant. My mother looked at him, looked at me and said “Honey, you can come in at 1 if you want to.”
I was a teen in the late 90s, and they had a general idea. If I went to a friend’s house in town, my parents would know about that, but not if we decided to walk to the store or someone else’s place for a bit once I got there.
I was a teenager in the late 80s-early 90s. My parents had to push me kicking and screaming out of the nest, starting by insisting that I ride the bus downtown and hang out at the mall sometimes after school instead of come right home, and making me accept sleepover invitations from friends. By the time I was 16 I was going out a lot more, and we had a deal where I’d call in if I would not be home when they expected, and that I’d check in when I got home.
They also went to another state for a few days once when I was maybe 14 and my brother 16. They told us to go ahead and have a party and that they’d informed our (very hip and laid back neighbours) that we would be doing so. Talk about jedi mind tricks. It was a pretty decent party but nothing like the crazy time that might have been had if they hadn’t planned it for us.
The relative lack of supervision worked for me. I guess it worked for my brother too, although he was out doing all the things parents might worry about. They still tended to know where he might be found, and who his friends were, and we were open house to all the kids that either of us knew - so if things were going down that were not so good, the kids would tend to crash at our place. My parents just had a rule that every kid had to call and notify their parents that they were with us, but otherwise they were welcome to stay. I think that probably made the teenage years safer for my brother without getting into the inevitable clash of wills that could have happened if they tried to be more hardline with him.
All the folks saying that their parents were relatively relaxed with them reminds me of a kid I knew in college. We were both freshmen, and he was a preacher’s son. A very strict preacher’s son. He was 18 or so (the drinking age was 18 way back then) and had never tasted alcohol.
I am sure most of you can see this coming - his first week on campus he got absolutely shit-faced drunk at a frat party. Looking back I am seriously surprised he didn’t get alcohol poisioning - or maybe he did because he was sick for a week. He made horrible grades our first quarter because all he did was party. I was really grateful to my mom, who had always told me that if I wanted to drink, tell her what I wanted and she would go buy it and I could drink at home. She just didn’t want me riding around in a car with someone who was drinking. So alcohol wasn’t “new and exciting” to me and I didn’t have as much trouble with it as some of the kids I saw did.
Teen in the 80’s, and yes, my mom always knew where I was, what I was doing, and who I was with. In fact, that’s true until I moved out at 20. I ain’t sayin’ it’s right, but that’s the way it was.
There was a time when my brother was giving my parents a lot of trouble and my mother got it in her head that I was just like him and probably doing things he was. She accused me several times of drinking or doing drugs when I wasn’t. She always wanted me to report in everywhere I went. She used to tell me that the first kid might have fooled her but now that she was smarter that I was not going to get away with anything. I hated my brother at times because I blamed him for my mother being stricter on the “good” kid than she had been on the “bad” kid.
When my brother died I was almost sixteen and the family sort of headed into their own little worlds. My mother did not keep tabs on me as much as even now looking back I think she should have. I was a good kid and never really did anything wrong but I feel I should have gotten more supervision and direction.
My father never kept tabs on me. My brother created so much havoc that after he passed away I think my dad sort of looked at is as he didn’t need to be a father anymore. I dunno it is sort of hard to explain. He just didn’t show he cared one way or the other. If he did he never said anything. He did not care when I moved out. He was just like “okay bye”
As a mother of a sixteen year old girl I don’t keep tabs on her that much. She always tells me were she is going and I don’t check up on her. I trust she is going where she says she is and she always calls to let me know if plans have changed. She has a job and she uses our second car whenever she wants as long as it is available. She can pretty much do her own thing as long as she lets me know what is going on. I have never had a problem that would make me not trust her.
Her curfew is the curfew of the city we live in. 11pm Sunday through Thursday and 12 midnight Friday and Saturday.
I had a curfew until the day I turned 18. My parents thought they knew what I was doing (they asked; I lied) and were concerned (but not overly nosey) about my activities, but I worked around it (and I believe lots of kids do this). This was back in the early 70s. Not much in the way of tracking devices back then.
Keeping tabs on me? I wish! I was a latchkey kid, and by the time I was a teenager, I would have been surprised if my mom of dad would have noticed if I didn’t spend the night at home.
Dad practically lived in his workshop, which was in another town and only came up for air a few times a week. Mom, in her spare time, fought her loneliness by enrolling in one creative class after another. Between the method-acting class and the pottery glazing class, I was more often at home wondering where my parents were then the other way around.
I was a teenager in the 80s, before cell phones, thank heavens. My grandma kept me on a pretty short leash as it was (I lived with her at the time). She had to know where I was and who I was with at all times, I could only stay out until midnight on Friday and Saturday, and couldn’t go anywhere at all on school nights. She would also wait up for me. The rule was: each minute late equaled one week being grounded.
Once I told her I was going to the bowling alley with a friend. Actually, the friend and I were elsewhere that night. Grandma stopped by the bowling alley (she “was in the neighborhood”) and couldn’t find me, so she was pretty pissed when I got home. I told her that my friend had wanted to go somewhere else, but since I wasn’t allowed to leave and I didn’t want to hang around the bowling alley all by my lonesome, I had been hiding out in the bathroom. She got all flummoxed and said, “That’s the one place I didn’t check.” Dodged a bullet that time!
Grandma also insisted that I go to church with her every Sunday morning. She may have regretted that the Sunday I barfed a skinful of booze all over the back pew.
I still smoked and drank and skipped school and had sex as a teenager. I would have probably done all of that regardless, but there were definitely times when I thought, “I’m not sure if I should do this bad thing, but I better go ahead because I won’t get another chance very soon.” I also moved in with my boyfriend as soon as humanly possible (I was 18 by then anyway). I was none too sure I was making the right decision at the time*, but I just had to get away from Grandma!
My mother knew exactly where I was every second of the day. When I grew old enough to have a car, I’d take it to the library or something in desperate need to get out. I found out later she’d have my dad tail me in the car to make sure I went where I was going. If I ever went over to an (indian) friend’s house she’d always call to make sure I was there. I was never allowed to stay home overnight - the very few times when she went away I was packed off to my aunt. And my aunt used to spy on me, too. Though to her credit she never liked it much.
I was a latchkey kid, but that was until one parent or the other got home, and I was always supposed to call as soon as I got home. When I reached the car age, people thought I was such a little nerd because I took summer classes all the time. I took summer classes because that was the only way I could get the car - I’d drop my mom off in the morning and go to class, and then I’d have a couple of hours in the afternoon with the car if I wanted to do something.
My mother also went to every doctor’s appointment with me and would sit in the room with this angry forbidding look on her face. I wasn’t having sex, but can you imagine if I needed to talk to someone? I never had any adult I could trust not to run straight back to my mother and tell her everything, and I needed to talk to someone, since my mother wouldn’t talk to me about my adoption. I was just the dirty secret.
Ugh - and people want to be teenagers again? It’s a good life, this adulthood.
I just wanted to add that now I have kids of my own, and I keep their leashes pretty short as well. By that I mean that I want to know where they are and with whom, they carry a cell phone, and I expect them home on time. However, the boy is only ten, and the fifteen year old girl, like Idlewild, is being pushed out of the nest kicking and screaming.
My stepchildren (both age 16) carry a phone, but no one ever knows what they’re doing or when they’ll be back. This has not been working out well at all lately.
No. At age 7 I was allowed to stay home alone after school and when they went to the store or out. All through elementary and middle school, once the bus dropped me off, the world was mine. I rode my bike anywhere and everywhere and was never asked to account for my time or let them know where I’d be.
Looking back, I realize it wasn’t safe at all, and I wonder what they were thinking. But I had some fantastic times and I can handle being on my own; I don’t need someone in my life 24/7. Two close family members have codependency problems, and I’m glad to be where I’m at.
As a teenager in the '70’s, I was trusted even at 14 to stay alone while my family went to my grandfather’s out-of-state funeral (I had to stay to take care of my dog and cat). They were gone most of a week. But I was a good-two-shoes. My mother would say “Why do you go to bed so early - when I was your age I could spend the night partying on the beach and still get up the next day” (not that she wasn’t pretty much a goody-two-shoes, too). As a courtesy we’d usually tell each other where we were going, on both sides. I didn’t drive, but I could take the bus downtown for a movie or to go bowling or to the good bookstores without any word said about it.
Mine too! Only she likes to play this little game of calling my landline and leaving a message, instead of calling me at work or on my cell phone… it’s a test of how quickly I’ll discover the message and call her back. :rolleyes: Sometimes I’ll leave her hanging for a couple of days, just because.
When I was a teen I was a pretty good kid, but my parents never believed me when I said I was just going to place A with friends X and Y - they always assumed the worst. So after a while, I just did what I pleased (still not all that wild, really) and told them whatever tale would churn up the least reaction. To this day, my mother says “we have no idea what you got up to” … with the insinuation that I must have been out drinking, drugging and whoring every minute that I wasn’t robbing a bank, subverting small children, or something.
My parents didn’t really give a shit where I was as long as I called them and said I was okay if I was out late.
Someone who wants to know where their 16-year-old is **at all times ** is a bloody fool if they think their 16-year-old can’t fool them from time to time. They’re also a control freak.
It never occured to my parents to keep tabs on me (from a young age on) and I grew up with the most profound sense that my safety and well being mattered to no one (including myself- which led to some pretty self destructive behavior).
I am trying to strike the balance between letting my kids know that what they do and where they are matter to us and giving them freedom and unsupervised time practice and develop good judgement and to have a little fun.
Speaking of keeping tabs, here’s a story that maybe some of the geekier people here will appreciate:
A grad school classmate of mine one day came to the lunch table bitching about how she had caught her 14-year-old daughter in a lie about where she was going the previous day. (Daughter had said she was calling to check in from friend A’s house; classmate called friend A’s house back 5 minutes later and found no one was home.) Now, this classmate was known for being a real worry wart about her kids as it was, and this day she couldn’t seem to stop venting about it, how her trust in her daughter had been betrayed, etc. etc. She didn’t exactly spell it out, but it was clear she was paranoid about her daughter gettin’ a little something-something with a boy. Most of us sat there rolling our eyes.
Finally, one of the profs at the table suggested that she have two differential GPS receivers implanted in her daughter, one in her head and one at her feet, so that classmate could arrange to have an alarm go off any time the distance between the head and foot receivers was less than or equal to half her daughter’s height. Seemed like a perfectly satisfactory solution, but classmate wasn’t amused by the suggestion… though she did finally shut up.
