What a pivotal weekend.
to realize that my first born daughter is no longer a child, a point I knew intellectually but was mildly surprised to discover my gut hadn’t yet acknowledged.
- I remember 17. An issue of accountability came to a head this weekend; of school, life and choices. We discovered that over the past year on various occasions she’s been stoned, drunk, and has had sex. I find upon thinking about it that I feel disappointment, a certain sense of loss, and a part of me which recognizes the dark irony is laughing, quietly and bitterly. At 17 I had experienced all of that, and more.
What frightens me is that she is to a large degree ignorant of the ugly side of life (was I that naive at her age?!) Part of what amuses is the little voice that says “What? you think other parents haven’t felt this at some point? What makes you think you’re any different? What makes you think that the fact that you haven’t raised her to act this way makes a difference in her choices?”
Our 14 year old twins don’t act this way, and seem to make better choices and actually think things through. Meghan has had a dark something riding her since…ever.
At least she isn’t pregnant, or has an STD. And then there is the spectre of AIDS, which I certainly didn’t have to face at her age. I also suspect that the guy she shared with isn’t of the calibre I’d want as a SIL. This approaches near certainty as the friends she chooses to spend time with tend to be if not bad, then less than ambitious, with a rather sloppy view of life; she can have and be better. In that regard, the militaristic daddy side of me remembers the desert is deep, and there are a lot of old abandoned mineshafts around here…
At least I haven’t received that call to come to the morgue, or received that 0-dark-thirty phone call. At least she’s still home, and is talking to us, and acknowledges the error of her ways, and wants help. Time will tell if it’s only lip service on her part.
Weird.