The “My Baby Has a BOYFRIEND!” Post

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.

Cur­rent Mood: 🙁uncom­fort­able
Cyn is Rick's wife, Katie's Mom, and Esther & Oliver's Mémé. She's also a professional geek, avid reader, fledgling coder, enthusiastic gamer (TTRPGs), occasional singer, and devoted stitcher.
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