March 2nd, 2010 11:59am
First Kiss
Over the weekend, while my texting tween was hunched over her cell phone, she paused long enough to ask me if she could go over to the house of this new “friend” to hang out. I agreed, thinking that it was no different than when she went over to one of her other guy friend’s house. Her first guy friend had been friends with her since 1st grade, and for several years had even considered themselves best friends. I had gotten to know this kid well, as well as his family. And there had never been any reason to not let them hang out. But after I agreed to let my daughter hang out with this new “friend”, I immediately regretted the words. Why? My daughter was a tomboy, naturally drawn to being one of the guys at school, and chatting with her guy pals on Facebook. So what was causing me to bristle at the thought of her hanging out with one of the guys?
For one, it was the way they had been texting back and forth consistently for the past several days. Two, it was the way she lit up, eager to talk up his good points every time I asked a few innocent questions about who he was, what he liked, his intentions for my daughter, plans for the future, and what his parents did for a living. You know, innocent. Three, she was getting to the age when male-female friendships developed into something more than just hanging out, and I wasn’t sure that I had counseled her enough on matters of the heart and the art of being chaste.
Most of all, it was that I didn’t even know this kid or his parents. (more…) 
A mom I know recently told me the story of her daughter and herself. As a single mom of just one girl, the two were incredibly close. My friend relied on her daughter to help out around the house and take care of her own responsibilities. And she was never disappointed. The two worked as a team to get dinner on the table, keep the house straight, and that all homework was done promptly and turned in on time. The two spent a lot of time together outside of school and work. The daughter talked often with her mom about problems she was having at school or with friends, when she thought a particular boy was cute – pretty much anything that crossed her mind. Jr. High came, which meant a new schedule at a new school, and new friends to meet. It’s interesting, things didn’t change overnight, as my friend remembers. But they did change rapidly. Her once sweet and kind daughter suddenly became sullen and angry. She stopped helping so much around the house. And the biggest change?
My mother called me over the weekend before the clock even hit 9 am.
“Are you at home right now?” she asked.
“I am.”
“What time are you going to take the kids over to their dad’s house?” she asked.
“Around 2,” I told her.
“Oh. That’s too late. Nevermind.”
She was being awfully cryptic, which of course got my curiosity up.
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Well…..” She asked me if I remembered the Ninja Star that the Taz had been coloring at her house. Of course I remembered. He had colored it pure black and told me how all he had to do was throw it and it would whip through the air slicing anything in its way. I suggested that he not throw it in the kitchen, at least.
“I remember. Why?” I asked her.
“Well, apparently he was coloring it in my living room…” 
I need to confess something. Sometimes I am afraid to read my comments on this blog. Sometimes when my phone pings and alerts me to another email, I’m afraid to look. Sometimes when I write a new entry in this blog, I pray that it won’t inspire conversation. It’s not that I don’t love feedback. I do. I want each and every one of you to tell me how much you can empathize with what I’m going through, how you were just experiencing such and such in your own household. I want you to tell me that what I wrote made you laugh outloud, or shed a tear, or how you can’t wait for my next installation.
I got up at 6 am this morning, just like usual. I started the coffee and cleared out the dishrack while it brewed. I got out my small pan and threw in a scrambled egg to make my goat cheese and avocado omelet. Then I sat with the newspaper and got caught up on the news. The kids’ alarm went off at 7 am, and we started the hustle and bustle of getting ready in 45 minutes. Quick shower, hair and make-up, the long process of figuring out what to wear – all while the kids got themselves dressed, made their breakfasts, and packed their lunches. A couple of the usual reminders that hair and teeth needed to be brushed and shoes needed to be put on, and we were out the door. We started down the road while I mused once again if I had remembered to turn off the coffeepot. I always did without thinking, a habitual flick of the switch when I set my coffee cup with its traditional third of a cup left unsipped. I thought about turning around again since we were on time, but decided against it, placing faith in my automatic pilot to have done it for me. 
As parents, it is our job to guide our children and teach them important lessons in life. But sometimes it is our kids who are teaching us. Here are some very important lessons I have learned from my children.
You had to have been living in a cave to have missed the local hot topic of the week. A Santa Rosa Mom went before the Santa Rosa City school board to plead her case as to why the book, The Tortilla Curtain, by TC Boyle, needed to be removed from the required reading list. …. In the end, the school board voted unanimously to keep the book on the required reading list, and left the option that students may read a different book if they choose not to read this one. But this event brings two very clear points to light… 
Growing up, I was fortunate to have both my parents in the home. My dad is a real estate appraiser, and though he worked a lot, we were often able to accompany him on local road trips when he went to look at houses. Sometimes we’d ride along with him, fascinated by the beauty of some areas that we never would have seen otherwise. Other times he would drop my mom and us three girls off at the park so we could have a picnic. He’d join us when his appointment was done.
Dad was the one who had the ideas for fun places to go and things to see. Who knew that sitting in the lobby of a fancy hotel, as if we were guests, enjoying hot chocolate by the fire could be so much fun. But with Dad, it was his way of instilling make-believe in us. 
Ambition. It’s what the goal of the week is for my son, instructed by his teacher at yesterday’s conference. Really, it’s the goal for the whole year. Ambition to do his work neatly and with care. Ambition to pay attention during class. Ambition to show he is there to learn by staying near the front of the class anytime the teacher has something to show the class to give them more insight into what they are learning about. This week, ambition is the focus as we enter the second half of the year, eventually saying goodbye to 3rd grade as he enters the higher grades at a different school. It’s ambition to change the negative habits of yesterday and create positive habits for tomorrow. 
Life seemed to start when my daughter was born in February of 1998. I was 20 years old and I knew nothing about motherhood. 3 years later and I also became the mom of a son. But when I look back at all that now, I can see that this was only the prologue. Life changes, and mine certainly did when I became a divorced mom with two kids to raise.