Curfewitis

     I had to take a break from writing my book.  I am writing a story about a prevalent problem and I think I've actually given the problem to myself. (Sorry if I am being cryptic, the finished product will be a surprise.)

     I love how now, we all are able to self diagnose ourselves with debilitating syndromes straight from our television sets.  Don't act like you've never done this.  I once convinced myself that I had Social Anxiety Disorder.

     Right.

     Well, if you've ever met me, you would know that being social and in social situations has never been a problem for me.  I kind of love being around people.  Maybe that's why I have so many kids. That's something to think about, anyway.

     A couple of weeks ago, Haven did not come home when she was supposed to, and missed her curfew by a couple of hours.  I cannot tell you how angry and scared I was.  I screamed at her on the phone and demanded that she get her blankety-blank ass home immediately!  (I had another Joan Allen moment.  At some point, I am going to need to meet Mrs. Allen, that is if I make it through high school.)

      The next day, I expressed how frightened I was not knowing where Haven was.  She told me that she felt like she had adequately explained what she was doing and why she did not make it home on time.  I told her that if that were true, she should have only missed her curfew by an hour, not by two.  Miscommunication or not, that child is everything to me, and it is my job as a mother to know where she is at all times.  It is pretty clear that I do not know everything Haven does.  Girls are sneaky.  I was a sneaky girl once.

     During my upbringing, I did not feel like my parents needed to know everything I was doing, because I was usually doing something that they would not approve of, like drinking and smoking (or in my case, doing both at the same time).  I am sure Haven feels the same way.  This is all a part of growing up, and whether or not I like this stage of child-rearing, it is going to happen, and it is coming at a fast pace.

     A few days later, I found that her screen was off of her window.  We live in a two story house, and Haven's room is located upstairs.  I asked her why her screen was off and she told me it was so that she could go out to sit and think on the roof.

     Right.

     I am not one of those mothers who believes everything my child tells me.  In fact, I am one of those mothers that embraces worst case scenarios, and reacts to them.

     I told her that leaving the house via her window was not a smart idea.  I told her if she was brave enough to sneak out of the house, while knowing how I would react, she should be brave enough do it by the front door.  I told her she didn't need to break a leg to be defiant. Short of chaining her to her bed (which is against the law), I did not know what else to do.  She swore to me that she has never sneaked out of the house before.

     I don't know what to believe.  It seems to me that mothering is getting harder as she ages. 

     Haven has a lot of freedoms, more than I ever had.  More often than not, when she asks if she can do something, the answer is yes.  She will be an adult in less than two and a half years, and it is my belief that these years are for me to show her how to function in the world once she is out of our home.

     I've always told Haven that I would trust her until she showed me that she could not be trusted.  I told her to be prepared for that day because I most definitely would pull her out of some house party in a disgusting pink robe with my hair in curlers.   I don't actually own those items, but need to locate some fast!