Edit: BTW, shadowkatt did say that this post doesn’t violate her privacy. In fact, she was quite amused.
As has been noted by dracofrost, he and shadowkatt are a “thing.” I’m not sure what the current lingo is, honestly. Is it still okay to use “going together” ?
Anyway, a while back I mentioned having a bit of a meltdown over initial realizations about dracofrost being local now. It is SO much easier to deal with “I have a boyfriend” when said boyfriend is several states away!
108 miles might still seem like a long way. In metro Atlanta terms? Well, that’s about twice as far as the orthodontist. Or the Girl Scout troop’s meeting place. Not somewhere we want to drive weekly, but not inconceivable, either.
So anyway…
We (as a family) have actually known dracofrost for several years. He visited our home in Stone Mountain on occasion as one of the kid gamers. (I actually met his mother and father separately in two different organizations, and realized later, “Oh! They’re talking about the same kid!”)
So—he’s something of a known factor. We know and like his parents. That’s reassuring.
On the other hand, he’s been gone for a year or so, which is a significant amount of time in teen terms. Lots of changes, I’m sure.
He still seems like a good guy.
BUT THAT’S MY BABY!
It doesn’t matter how marvelous both kids are. It doesn’t matter that I know we’ve given Katie a good education in general and that I figure dracofrost‘s father has done the same.
THAT’S MY BABY!
There’s some primal part of me that’s screaming. It wants to thwack the boy, to tear them apart and chase him away. I fully acknowledge that there is NO rational basis for it.
It’s still there.
Now, I swore that I would NOT be as dysfunctional as my own parents were about all things that might be remotely considered to maybe brush against the topic of sex. I’m working on it. I am. But that primal voice isn’t listening.
I took a fair number of “breathing breaks” in our suite this weekend.
I figure some of the panic does tie into the abuse survivor crap. I want so much to protect my child from what I experienced. It doesn’t matter that a consensual dating relationship between teens bears no relationship to sexual abuse. The monkey brain sticks them together.
And I know that trying to protect her in that way is not good parenting. It isn’t loving.
MONKEY MONKEY MONKEY
So all I can do, I think, is to keep the monkey in her cage. That way any poo she throws shouldn’t hit anyone else. I hope. But it takes work!
Please, shadowkatt and dracofrost—if you experience anything from me that seems like the monkey voice, just say, “Monkey!” to me. I’ll back off for a few minutes to reexamine my words and actions, at the very least, whenever you call Monkey on me.
