Society is a funny thing. There are some situations where individuals (or parents of individuals) can have an enormous influence upon the lives of others; specifically our children. When they are small, we arrange play-dates or we are incredibly selective about which daycare they will attend. Our children socialize with the people we tell them to. Easy. Simple.
Eventually, our little darlings grow brains of their own and begin to choose their own friends. We have no control over who they choose, even if we like to believe we influence their decisions in some way or another. I used to believe that if my children when to a “good” school in a “middle class” neighborhood, they would meet “good” kids from “middle class” homes with “good middle class” values.
Bussing took care of that in the 1970s, and when you choose to raise your children in a small town, you probably only have one high school from which to choose anyway. This means the daughter of the richest man in town is probably going to school with the children of the local convicted drug dealer. And she might just bring him home for dinner.
I have spent a lot of time soul searching over the past few years, as I looked at myself honestly and stopped judging the people around me. When I inherited my second set of children, I was very sad to discover that I had not come as far in my evolution as I would have liked to think.
My daughter is the kind of kid other mothers warn their children about…
I was raised in a middle class home with middle class parents. For the most part, I was sheltered and stupid, and I believed that all kids were like me. I did not realize that there were children in the world, in my own high school, who did not have the same advantages that I did. I took the way I was raised and applied it to the raising of my own children, mostly because I knew no better way.
Imagine my surprise when my daughter developed a drug problem, and even spent some time in jail. She nearly went to prison, in fact, and was on probation for quite some time. She is now a healthy, active mother to my grandson and she and her soon-to-be husband (who is the local military recruiter in our town) will be moving across country so he can attend Special Forces training. A few years ago, however, when she was a teen, I would not have “allowed” my daughter to hang out with someone… well… someone like her.
And yet, she did.
Loosening the knots…
Part of what my daughter’s trials taught me was that everyone is susceptible to bad influences. Even the best kids can develop problems. Most importantly, a kid with problems is not necessarily a bad kid. They just have problems!
So when my second daughter was entering those turbulent teen years, having experienced the trauma associated with her sister’s addiction and legal issues, I loosened the reins just a little. I had also divorced their father and had the freedom of authority to do as I saw fit-guiding more where I needed to and letting them fall when they needed to.
This particular system worked fantastically and my second daughter is a happy, healthy 20-year-old college student who manages a fast-food restaurant as she puts herself through school.
So, why am I distraught over certain choices my step-daughter makes?
My step-daughter is a perfectly normal 17-year old girl. She has friends and frien-emies. She argues with her boyfriend and dances in the middle of the parking lot to loud music that annoys the neighbors. Last time I saw her, her hair was crayon red, but that was four hours ago, so anything could have changed by now.
Yesterday, she received a letter from an old friend in the mail. An actual letter-you know, in an envelope with a stamp and a return address. The return address is what concerns me: A detention facility in Montana where her old grade school friend is now incarcerated.
My initial reaction was one of concern, dismay, shock and fear. Why is she talking to a boy who managed to get himself arrested? What did he do? Did he harm someone? Drugs… it has to be drugs.
Then I caught myself. I remembered that my own daughter used to send me letters from a detention facility. She sent me letters from the state prison where she was undergoing pre-sentencing diagnostics to determine how many years she would stay there, or if she would receive probation.
I remembered that my daughter isn’t a bad person. She was a person with bad problems. It was the love and support of friends and family that helped her get through the toughest times. It was knowing that she had friends and family who loved her that made her strong enough for rehab and treatment.
I know that if I were to go with my initial reactions to my step-daughter’s friend–forbidding contact or making her feel like keeping this friendship will “only drag her down”– I would be doing him and my daughter a great disservice. We can’t pick our children’s friends, but we can give them the tools and information to make their own mistakes, their own choices, and their own differences in the lives of the people they touch.