FTR, the only circumstances under which I will search through my children’s stuff is when I have substantial reason to believe they are engaging in behaviour which will lead to undesirable consequences for them and one hell of a mess for me to sort out. On the few occasions I’ve conducted these searches, I quickly located evidence which confirmed my suspicions (in one case the evidence was drugs, in another a used pregnancy test, another time stolen money). In neither case did I tear the bedroom apart looking for evidence of other (unsuspected) transgressions.
My children do not go to any great lengths to protect their privacy. They don’t hide their journals, don’t greatly protect the stuff they have online. They accept that if I have SUBSTANTIAL reason to belief they may be heading for trouble (in all the instances outlined above, I had asked the child concerned and they had denied any knowledge of what I was talking about) AND having asked them about what’s going on I believe their denials are outright lies, I will take steps to confirm or deny my suspicions - these steps may include not only searching through their belongings, but also talking to their friends and their friends parents.
As for destruction of property, my house as an ABSOLUTE “no illegal drugs” rule. Whether you are my child, my partner, my houseguest, my friend - whether or not you are paying rent - if you bring illegal drugs into my house and I become aware of the fact and locate them, I will not only destroy the drugs and any associated equipment, your belongings will be out in the street when you return to my house. Ditto weapons. Ditto stolen goods.
some of that monstro if I may, comes from some very real life experiences. I do remember quite well my teen aged years, the fights with my parents, how I wrong I thought several of their decisions were etc.
And, some of it, I still think were wrong. But the whole privacy thing can become blurred.
For example - the illegal drugs, stolen property mentioned by reprise. As the homeowner, I can be (and probably will) prosecuted for having it in my home. There are laws on the books that require people in public housing to be evicted if drugs/drug dealing is done on the premises, even if it’s by the tenant’s child. So, under those circumstances, if it’s a question of me and the littler kids being homeless because the teen’s decided to sell drugs, I have no problem, ethically, legally or whatever, w/the parent doing what’s necessary to protect the safety of the home.
the journal thing is dicier, but did you notice some of the posters here mentioning that the only way the parent knew about abuses and other problems was 'cause they snooped a bit?
Now, what did I do w/my teen vs. what was done to me:
I had almost no choices about how my room looked (decorations, bedspreads, color of walls etc.). My son got to pick out his own from the moment he expressed an opinion. The room was ‘his’ and as such, I felt that it should reflect his tastes, not mine. So at 5, little pictures of ninja turtles were taped to the walls. at 16, it was Cindy Crawford and a big picture.
Clothing/hair. Again, I had very little choices about those. I allowed my son to express his taste, w/the caveat that at school or family/formal gatherings, I had veto power. However, he exercised more restraint than I would have demanded. (neither of us cared about the green hair, tho’).
Journals, backpacks, etc. Unless I had reason to suspect drugs, illegal stuff, I kept out. However, when there was reason to suspect, I did check and he knew that I did. My parents screened everything from my incoming/outgoing mail to everything in my room (even tho I’d never given them a reason to suspect)
Sexuality. Well, my parents didn’t even go there. My son and I talked about it, I was especially concerned when he was 15 and had an extremely aggressive 17 year old g/f, and they spent lots of time at her house w/an air head mother in charge. But I trusted him to make good decisions, let him know that I was available to talk, and let her know that he was underage.
the contrast, it seemed to me, was that lola didn’t seem to think that the s/m had any right at all to toss her stuff, and that her responsability in the situation was very limited.
We only have those little snapshots that she’s given us, but it seems that there’s no love lost between the two. Maybe she does a lot of cleaning, takes care of her own food, dishes, laundry etc. I don’t know. What I do know, 'cause she told us, is that she’d left certain things in semi public areas at least twice. That she’d been given a rationale (that she disagreed w/the rationale is immaterial IMHO) for why this was objectionable, but she forgot and it happened again. And, the promised consequences happened.
Where do you suggest we draw the line Rilchiam? Where do you draw the line with your teenagers?
Like I said, my responsibilities as a PARENT may override my kid’s right or need to privacy.
My kids have plenty of freedom, but they know what the guidelines are in my house. I’ve taken in other teenagers before, and they seemed fine with the rules too. My kids know that I may screw up at some things, but I’m at least TRYING to do the right thing, and they respect that.
I’m not nasty, and I don’t tear through my kids stuff just looking for evidence. But like I said, if I finds it, I reads it. I am comfortable saying, “Yep, it may be an invasion of your privacy, but in this case my need to know about (insert possible problem) is more important. When you move out, you can have all the privacy you want.”
Geez, don’t you think kids feel their privacy is being invaded when you talk to them about birth control? Cigarettes and drugs? Practically everything else that happens? But if I don’t talk to my kids about this stuff, who will?
It ain’t a popularity contest, and I would be doing my kids a disservice if I allowed them to live as adults when they are barely (or not even) old enough to drive.
When I was growing up, there was a rash of teen suicides in the next town. I think 7 kids died, a huge percentage in a town of that size. And in retrospect, some of the parents regretted the fact that they refused to read their kids’ journals, because they had clearly indicated suicidal ideation.
I’m willing to be the bad guy (if necessary) here, because I’m doing it in the interests of doing my job the best way I can.
All that being said, IF my kid were paying rent, doing his own laundry, etc, then his room would be his private domain, and I probably wouldn’t read his stuff anymore, because I wouldn’t be in there at all.
God, aren’t there worse parents out there than those of us who read diaries??
Oh you didnt burst my bubble… I am glad that everything worked out with you and your son. I would never wish my situation on anyone. In my case I guess it turned out well for me as I am more “in tune” with my children so that I don’t make the same mistakes as well as making me self sufficient and not reliant on anyone. But it did come at a cost to my mom as I stated in my previous post.
My point was more with that fact that I have seen first hand how an overprotective approach does not work with devestating results more often than I have seen good things come of it. I understand the concept of tough love and the fact that parents try to make the best decisions out of love for their child, and sometimes those decisions will annoy that child (as most parents decisions generally do).
I think that my issue was with the fact that it almost seemed like you thought children weren’t allowed to make mistakes and if they didn’t like it “well there’s the door”. That just struck me the wrong way I guess. My kids have reasonable privacy, heck, I even let my son have a “Knock before entering” sign on his door. I just feel that this teaches him to respect the privacy of others. My experiences suggest that teaching respect for others and themselves is one of the hardest things to teach someone. The only way I would search my son’s room is if I thought he was doing something. I wouldnt do it arbitrarily or without cause. But you are right, everyone has their own situations and thoughts on raising kids; mine just differ from yours
bodypoet, I’m just saying that I can see this no-privacy policy leading to a very embarrassing situation.
“Tommy! Why is this door locked!”
“Uh…”
“TOMMY! [pound pound] Open up this door!”
“Uh…yeah…hold on…”
“TOMMY! [bam bam bam] YOU’VE GOT ONE MINUTE TO OPEN THIS DOOR OR I’LL…”
“Yeah, mom okay! Okay!”
“What were you doing that you had to lock the door?”
“…”
“Were you doing drugs?..Were you worshipping Satan?..Were you…Wait — is that the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue?! Look at me when I’m talking to you!”
I’m thinking I have a much higher tolerance for privacy-invasion issues than many people.
I don’t care WHO reads what I write. When I was a teenager, I felt basically the same way I do now: My mom/teacher/whoever was welcome to read whatever she found, but unless I admitted to doing something dangerous, I didn’t wanna hear about it.
But really, that answer ignores the obvious (to me, anyway) fact about family life: There is a difference between a parent and a child. Different responsibilities, different rights, different expectations of each. It wouldn’t make me mad to find that my kids snooped in my room–no doubt they have–but I don’t really expect them to, because they have no responsibility to make sure Mom is keeping her nose clean.
Their job is to be kids. My job is to parent, and that job involves a whole different job description.
Is anybody seeing my point?
For a quick ferinstance: When my son was a junior high student, I ran across his journal. No, I wasn’t tossing his room looking for contraband, I happened on it while cleaning. Anyway, I read it, naturally, and found a couple of things out: 1. He’d stayed all night at his buddy’s, and had been offered drugs, which he declined. 2. He had a crush on a neighbor girl and was going to try to “get a bunch skinnier so she will like me.” 3. He was worried that after he got glasses, no one would like him and he would be “without hope.”
I didn’t sit him down and read him the riot act, but over the course of a few weeks, I was able work into our conversations the issues that concerned me. He never knew I read his journal, but I was very glad to have those insights because they gave me a good jumping off point for some pretty serious discussions.
Again, a whole different situation that what Lola is facing, I know.
Sorry, Rilchiam, I missed your post in my frenzy of typing my previous message.
Your scenario wouldn’t happen at my house. I don’t have a strict “no-privacy” policy as you describe it, and I fully expect that my son doesn’t spend ALL of his time in the shower lather-rinse-repeating.
Here’s what I’m saying: If he has drugs or contraband stashed in his room, I’m probably gonna find it. If he’s using, I’m quite likely to know it. If he writes, chances are pretty good that I’ll run across the writing and read it.
If it’s a playboy fantasy about the girl of his dreams, I’ll close the book and tuck it right back where it came from. If, on the other hand, he’s wondering whether he should use a gun or a rope, I’ll have a bit of a head start on helping him.
Frankly, I’d rather screw up actively than passively in this case. I’d far prefer to apologize to him someday for invading his privacy than to lose sleep at night wondering why I didn’t just read the damn journal when I had the chance. Y’know?
I must admit that there are a few questions which keep going over and over in my mind about the OP. 1) the circumstances under which Lola came to live with her dad and SM; 2) why living with her mother isn’t an option for Lola; 3) how long Lola has been living with her dad and SM; 4) how long dad and SM have been together; and 5) Lola’s age.
While none of these things directly affect whether TWSM should have read Lola’s journal, let alone confiscated it (and FTR, I think both actions were inappropriate), the answers might go a long way towards putting SM’s actions in contents. Lola’s comments about her SM are not those of a mature adult, and if they reflect her RL behaviour I suspect that she could be an extremely exasperating young woman with whom to share a living space.
My mom never could grasp the concept of knocking and waiting for admission. One day she entered my bedroom when, well, you can guess.
“Eek!” she cried, and off she scurried.
That night she insisted that my father sit down with me and explain the facts of life. I figured that I had things well in hand, if you’ll excuse the pun, but she insisted that he sit me down at the kitchen table and give me “the talk.”
No sooner than he started, than my mom marched in and told him that he had it all wrong. A discussion between the two ensued… In as much as my mother courted my father several years before marrying, and then took half-a-dozen years before producing me (her eldest), she may very well have been correct, but I slunk away before hearing too much, being both mortified and highly amused at the same time.
The next day I installed a lock on my bedroom door, having learned that the primary fact of life has nothing to do with sex, but rather that the ultimate duty of parents is to embarrass their children despite their having the best of intentions.
A quick re-read of the entire thread reveals that Lola lived elsewhere up until 7 months ago; that her mum and stepdad are wonderful people; she has a (likeminded) brother in BC; she expects other people to be responsible for bringing up her furniture.
The cynic in me says that there must be some reason why she moved 7 months ago; that despite her clear preference for her mum and step-dad and her brother, living with her father and SM seems to be her only familial option ATM (one has to ask why); and that perhaps the reason her furniture wasn’t moved is because her stay in the house was not intended to be longterm (let’s face it, if you ASK a child to move in, you do tend to help them with moving in their furniture or at least harrass them about organising it themself).
It sure doesn’t sound to me like Lola is there on any kind of “room-mate” basis, but rather that she’s been given a temporary roof over her head until she finds suitable, permanent accommodation.
Let’s remember, that as an ADULT Lola cannot have been “sent” to live with her father; her choice of her father’s residence over that of her mother or her brother (or wherever the hell she was living 7 months ago) raises a lot of questions about her motivations for being there in the first place (I’m wondering to what extent SM was even consulted about this arrangement).
I have tried multiple journals, both paper and on the computer, and to this day I am completely paranoid about writing things down. I burn all my sketchbooks after I fill them, and I destroyed the journals that I kept up for a few months before it eventually overcame me. I feel like anything I write down will be snooped through and anything saved will eventually be violated. Even in my own dorm room at school, all by myself, in a notebook I intend to destroy, I don’t trust writing anything down. Paper is no longer private.
Overzealous parents should realize that their actions have consequences. Not everything is going to be hunky-dory when the children get older. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel comfortable writing private things down- they just seem so much safer without leaving my head.
In some ways NightRabbit the “don’t permanently record anything you wouldn’t want people to see in the event of your death” rule isn’t a bad one.
Many journal entries and the like describe TRANSIENT feelings; I know that I’ll often destroy or delete stuff (I’m a great writer of letters I never intend to send) once those feelings have passed precisely because I would not want someone who came across them after my death to be hurt by them.
I think there are huge differences between between the “everything is sacred and inviolate” viewpoint, the viewpoint that I will infringe on my children’s privacy when I believe it is in the best interests of their welfare that I do so, and the “everything is my business” viewpoint.
Interesting question, considering I spent a lot of time doing just that as a kid. I was raised in an environment with zero trust: my parents lied to each other, to me, and I lied to them, often over the most trivial things. My father, rest his soul, lived in a bubble world that revolved solely aroudn him- going through anyone else’s stuff simply never occurred to the man. My mother, OTOH, is possibly the nosiest person I have ever met, and she could be maliciously so- she would throw her snooping in my face while arguing over a completely unrelated topic. I couldn’t trust either of them, and I learned at an early age to hide everything I valued. I was never a bad kid- never did drugs, never stayed out late, never broke the law, did well in school.
I responded with passive aggression in kind- I went through everything they owned. And yes, I took a perverse satisfaction in knowing things about them they’d prefer no one knew, especially their child. Yes, it’s sick and sad, and I regret it today, especially since my relationships with both of them improved once I left home.
It was a strange homelife- my parents treated me emotionally as an adult, but physically as a child. House rules were in place, such as no staying out late, etc., but emotionally they both spent a lot of time dumping their own emotinal baggage onto me, confiding in me their own marriage, career, and life problems LONG before I was ready to handle any of it. Each grilled me about the others’ behavior; each asked me to keep secrets from the other. It was weird and screwed up, and it made me strange and unable to tust other people.
Obviously, I resented this, and I took action- if they treated me like so, I would treat them the same. If you go through my stuff, I’ll go through yours. If I trust you and you betray me, your secrets are no longer safe with me. If they respected me, I respected them, and everyone was happy. But a slip-up one anyone’s part and it was like Ragnarok. I lived on eggshells for 18 years. Because in my family, an open and serious discussion about a situation just wasn’t possible, I attempted to assert myself through this method, and eventually, it started working. It was a fucked-up situation, I tell you, and I have scars and baggage, and whatnot, but I’ve managed to let at least some it go. I realized at an unfortunately young age that both of my parents were deep-down actually pretty fucked-up people. It tore me apart as a kid, but I forgave them. If I hadn’t, I would never have been able to change my own life. I would have become them, which is never something I wanted. I love them, but I never really respected them. And my father died before I got a chance. My mom and I have a stronger relationship today, and I’m working no overlooking our past, overlooking the things about her I dislike, because she’s really all I know of family.
Eh. Enough about my problems. But Guinastatsia brings up a point- if you don’t treat your kids with respect, they will never respect you in turn. They will just learn to lie, cheat, and steal to get around you. There’s a basic, though flexible, set of rules between parent and child- you treat your kids like kids, and they treat you like parents. You treat them appropriately based on their age and responsibility levels. You don’t force your own problems and issues onto them, because they will learn to resent you, and they will learn to use your own methods against you. Controlling your children and allowing them no space will make them hate you- it will make them secret and devious and filled with distrust and resentment. Trust me, this is not something you want.
a) Saying “If I find it, I’m going to read it” does not = “I am going to make a lifetime crusade out of digging through your things like a badger with the trots”
b) Expressing the opinion “kids living at home are not going to have the privacy that a normal roommate would” does not = “I am going to go out of my way to violate his/her privacy at every opportunity”
c) Not feeling comfortable keeping a journal is not a fucking tragedy
Fuck, some people in this thread have acted like those of us who are active parents who participate in raising their own children are actually thought police right out of 1984.
Bitch in one thread that kids these days are growing up with no respect and no rules and no ability to display common rules of etiquette; bitch in another thread that some parents are being too controlling. You can have good, strong, productive members of society, or you can have kids with complete freedom from their parents’ prying eyes; you can’t have both.
Obviously, an unfortunate number of people live in a black-and-white world where any violation of privacy means “no privacy ever ever ever,” and for those people…GODDAMN I hope you don’t have kids, because your well-meaning be-your-kid’s-buddy IDIOCY is going to lead to another generation of people who think the world fucking owes them a wink and a smile.
