Does Parenting Change When You Have a Gay Teen?

My daughter, the lovely DD is 16.

She has really blossomed lately, budgeting for herself, suddenly deciding (against her parents wishes) to have her waist length hair cut to shoulder length, becoming more outgoing, getting herself to and from college without always relying on 'mum's taxi', letting us know when she'll be late and making new college mates and hanging out at coffee shops. In short she has become a teenager at last. So 'almost an adult' that it hurts to think about it.

My baby is testing her wings.

As a parent I know that this is what it's all been about, preparing her for life and for leaving us, but as a parent I also feel the pain of that 'almost loss'.

I'm so proud of her. She did well at her GCSEs, is doing all the A levels she wanted to, is making new friends, and is looking happy. Happier than she has in a while, and she's always been a happy child. Maybe this happiness is linked to the fact that she finally plucked up the courage to come out to her friends as well as her parents.

Yes dear reader, I am the mum of my own little gay! She told me by accident in a mistaken Facebook message back in January, and, well, I behaved fairly predictably. First I checked she sent me the image to tell me something, and not just because it was cute or funny (she often sends me weird memes via messenger) , and then when that was confirmed, I just said "OK" and on we went.

It’s not the winning it’s the taking part

It’s not the winning it’s the taking part. I hate that phrase. We’ve all heard it, might even have said it, but deep down do we believe it?

Taking part is part of the thing of course, but in any competitive event surely it is the winning we want? After all why compete if you don’t want to win? I don’t mean that you shouldn’t do things that you know you won’t win, but when you do something, you know that you want to, you want to win.  Saying 'It’s not the winning it’s the taking part' implies that the winning is not just not the most important bit, but that it’s hardly important at all – and while there are a few exceptions where runners lose a race helping an injured runner over a finish line etc – winning is important. Winning is the best bit.

Winning and competing are important. As is learning to be magnanimous in glory and stoic in defeat, and we can’t learn to be a good winner or a good loser if we don’t do it and we if don’t play to win.

I was terrible at sport as a child, I came last in every event I was ever forced to enter – winning seemed like a shining light at the end of a long dark tunnel of pain. I hated sport, I hated it because it wasn't the taking part it was the winning, and I never won. "It's not the winning it's the taking part" is a sop given to a loser. It's not true, and if anything it makes a loss sting harder, I would rather have been told "Oh well, better luck next time, you never know, keep trying"

Later when I grew up and was diagnosed with Charcot-Marie-Tooth I felt better about my lack of physical skills, after all, I often won at chess or cards, I was great at quizzes too. And that’s what hits home to me, that instead of telling people that it’s the taking part we should try and find things they are good at, fail at a few things but strive to find your winning event. Maybe there is something that you really love but you never win at? Well that's great, keep trying, enjoy trying, but don’t fool yourself with that ‘taking part’ talk, you know it, I know it – you want the feeling of winning.

Sometimes that win is beating your own personal time of course, not all events involve competing against another person, plenty of marathons are run by people who won’t come first but hope to conquer personal bests, or illness, or fear, that’s still winning.

If you get to the Olympics/Paralympics it's a big deal, but don't tell me those athletes don't want to win! Winning is the best feeling.

And if it's not the winning but the taking part that is important why is there an idea that you should always let children win at games played against adults? Lots of parents seem to do this. I’m obviously an horrific and cruel parent as I have never purposely let DD win at things. I might give her a headstart, more cards, etc because she is younger or smaller, but let her win? No way! If we played Top Trumps, I played to win, draughts? I’ll take a queen please and then all your pieces. Skittles? Give me that ball and let’s see who’s the best, you get the picture.

And yes sometimes DD cried and railed and complained “it’s not FAIR” and I would say “shall we play again but I’ll let you win?” and she would look daggers and say “No! that’s not fair either” And so she grew older, bigger, cleverer and eventually she started to beat me. Of course games of chance like snakes and ladders had always given her the odd taste of victory, but now she was winning based on her memory and cunning (Top Trumps) or her balance and steady hand skills (Jenga) or her speed (first one to the ice cream van gets free ice cream) And she flipping loved it. She loved to win because it was real.

She still loves to win now, and to be good at things. Yesterday she innocently asked me to help with a tricky question in her maths homework…it may as well have been written in Klingon when I looked at it! She sniggered, she already knew the answer. “It’s not FAIR!” I wailed.

When your baby grows up.

Sometimes (often) I treat my daughter as if she is eight when in reality she is nearly sixteen. I still find myself thinking I should 'arrange' friends for her to 'play' with. Or tell her about things that I saw on my journey to work that would have entertained her at six years old but now are greeted with a stony stare and the snarky  (yet admittedly funny) response "cool story bro, do you have time to tell it again?"

At sixteen many places will see her as an adult, she can legally have sex (even typing that gave me chills), she will pay adult fares to many events and on public transport unless she remains a student, she can get married (with permission) , she can buy a pet ... and many other things (see http://www.mumsnet.com/teenagers/legal-rights-at-16 ) weirdly she can't drink champagne at her own wedding reception (though she could have a beer as long as someone over eighteen buys it) . Sixteen is a weird inbetween age and so it confuses me, she is still my baby, my child but at the same time she's a young woman with her own life to lead. She lives under a roof I pay for so I think I have rights in the rules she abides to but still it's hard to know what is stupid and draconian, and what is lax and dangerous for a Sixteen year old.

I have never had the responsibility for a 'proto-adult' before, years of being a mum hasn't prepared me for this. Entertaining a small child, keeping her fed and happy and healthy seems like a breeze compared to the trauma of deciding where she can go alone, when she should be back, who she should hang out with, how much she should stay in contact. You remember the stress I felt when she was at a festival without me for only one day and yet soon it will be everyday, out at college, or with friends. Life is expanding beyond our home for her and at the same time the world is changing in ways I haven't seen. While suddenly I can be in touch with a child via mobile phone anywhere, it also causes panic when she doesn't answer. She will be old enough to get a moped but the streets are more filled with vehicles than ever, even crossing the road is so much more dangerous than when i was a child, she can have social media accounts (and, and this is the worst bit, not let me know!) She has a whole life away from me and as this thread between us grows ever thinner it's terrifying.

When I read (and wrote) posts about the pain of having to stop breastfeeding your child, I didn't imagine I'd feel the same pain all over again as she grew up. She is so pretty and so clever (yes I know, I'm her mum I would say  that, but she is!) I know that she can do well in life, but every risk, every worry seems heightened suddenly.

Don't think by the way that I have too rosy a view of her, she an infuriating teen a lot of the time, a child who answers back, doesn't do her homework, sneaks sweets into her room (which she never tidies) and generally makes me think about selling her for medical experiments; but she is my infuriating teen. My love, my life.

I need to learn to let go. Because if I don't I'll spoil both our lives. But it's terribly hard. I imagine I'll go through all of this again when she leaves home. Maybe once (if?) she starts to pay her way in the home it will be easier to see her as an adult. But right now it feels like a seesaw precariously balanced between childhood and adulthood. One day tipping one way and the next the other, maybe once the seesaw clunks down on the side of adulthood this will all be easier but right now it feels so hard.

Are you the parent of a teen? How did you cope? Do you still baby your teen or have you managed to see them as another adult in the house?

When your child goes to her first festival without you.

I blog a lot about camping and festivals over at www.tentsandfestivals.co.uk but this post needs to be here.

I've been taking DD to festivals since she was about 7. And she loves them, she loves the music, the dancing, the food, the people, the dressing up, the not washing, the chaos, the queues, the weather....she loves them for all the things that make them a festival so it shouldn't be a surprise to me that when her friend asked if she wanted a spare ticket to Wildlife Festival she leapt at the chance.

DD is 15. Her friends are a similar age. The festival was a two day affair but did not involve camping, so she'd sleep over at her friend's house, and her friend's parents would be taking them, and while they wouldn't all stay together in the festival itself, it all seemed pretty tame and safe. So at midday on Saturday, clad in short shorts a crop top, black and silver wellingtons and shades, my daughter, now looking at least 17, set off for the festival.

At 3pm I sent her a text hoping she was having fun. My internal monologue was saying
don't text her, she's fine, she doesn't want to be fussed by her mum, what could have happened in 3 hours? nothing that's what, leave her alone, the sun is shining, she's fine

No reply.
At 5pm I sent her a text saying I hoped she wasn't too cold. (She did pack a jumper)
internal monologue : she's fine, she didn't reply because she's having fun, she's with her mates, she hasn't been raped and left for dead behind the portable chemical toilets,stop it! where did that thought come from, she's fine, good grief, give it a rest, stop texting her.

No reply.
At 10pm I went to bed, I sent a text to say good night and would she text when she got back to her mates...so I knew she was alive.
internal monologue : well now you've blown it, she'll know you are worried, you've spoiled her day, her friends will think you are nuerotic and she'll hate you, but what if she's taken dodgy drugs and is in the hospital even now? for goodness sake her friends mum would have text you, go to sleep!

Waking at 3am I glance at my phone ...no reply.
Internal monologue : go to sleep, she's not dead...she's probably dead, you'll blame yourself about this forever, go to sleep she's fine.

at 8am my phone buzzes ...text "Sorry we got back at midnight, had an ace time, we were right at the front by the barrier, best festival ever, can't wait for more today"

Yeah...me too

The Joy of Bedsits

The joy of bedsits.

Ah bedsit land, so fabulous that Soft Cell wrote a song about you...

Who am I kidding. The only joy in my teen bedsit was that I was free(ish) to do what I liked (within the confines of the landlords rules). 

So I could 

• play music (quietly,and before 10pm only). 
• Watch what I liked on TV (on a tiny black and white portable and only quietly and before 10pm as with the music). 
• Invite friends round (no parties, all guests to leave by 10pm - ABSOLUTELY NO SLEEPOVERS). 
• Bathe when I liked (not at all true as I had to share a bathroom and while in the bath had to steel myself for the creepy guy from down the hall and his doorknob rattling antics, maybe he hoped that one day I'd forget to lock the door?) 
• Go to bed when I liked (usually 10pm as it was so silent and felt like lights out time in a dormitory) 
• Cook whatever I liked (actually whatever I could afford since the rent ate up most of my money) - bedsit recipes are a *whole* other post!

And there's the rub. I was spending all my cash on rent and my best mate had somehow wangled a mortgage and bought a small flat! She had more that one room! In fact she had an amazing 4 rooms and a hall! She didn't share a bathroom with a mixture of oddballs, she didn't have neighbours that would rat her out to a landlord if she listened to a movie after 10pm. She used to delight in ironing naked (something I never dared to do as my landlord often appeared at weird times to 'check the electricity meter'...) She had a whole kitchen! a lounge and a bedroom too and more importantly she could choose her own wall colour and curtains. I cannot begin to tell you how envious I was and her mortgage was about the same as my rent but she was actually getting to keep something for the deal. And of course she was 'on the property ladder' a weird phrase but accurate as most people climb ever upwards.

Now I'm a grown up and we have our own house, my husband and I. I no longer have curfews, or worries that the electric meter will snarl up on a bent 50p (I think in this modern time they no longer take cash?), I can relax in the bath (not even locking the door!) and choose my own carpet. Of course I have to buy it too but that's a small price to pay compared to the freedom.

I know there are lots of times renting is best, but for me, feeling that the money I'm spending is actually buying something, something as substantial as a house, is a great feeling. Having done both I'd rather pay a mortgage than a rent.  I guess it's the old 'an Englishman's home is his castle' or some such :-)

 We have a teen (just!) daughter and I wonder what the future holds for her. I would love her to travel, to find her place in the world but I would like her to be grounded too. I know that she wants a family and she will probably be keen to settle down, but who knows. I just hope  I will be there to support her in her decisions, a wise head? or a supporting arm, or just someone with a cup of tea to compare notes about being a teen and saving for that first time you can step through a door and think 'this will be mine'. So I need to be prepared. I need to read up on mortgages. I need to be ready to stand guarantor if necessary (that makes me feel terribly grown up) but more importantly I need to browse 'home' magazines, because when you own your own home the world is your oyster.



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This blog post is sponsored but the words and opinions are mine.