Who is That Child?

Melissa is the youngest of my four children, the seventeen year old, gypsy child or should I call her the hippy of the new millennium?  She’s living life her way.  I see dropping out of high school to be in her near future, as her attendance becomes more infrequent.  I see her moving out of the house real soon following in the footsteps of her friends.  I’m avoiding the ultimatums set forth by her friend’s parents, seeing as their tactics failed.  I balance myself somewhere in between overbearing and indifferent as if this were the ultimate game of risk.

I know she’s playing me, testing me, wanting me to throw her out so that whatever consequences befalls her can be my fault, so it’s not her being a ‘freshy’ but a victim of poor parenting.  The kids in her group are a manipulative lot.  I have my troops in position.  I play them as needed.

I have the cell phone contacts coming in from her Godmother when she won’t take my calls.  There is the Sunday evening dinners with my ex, her Father; we piece together information regarding her well-being.  I have Aunt Dorrie who monitors her moves in the next town where she and these hooligans’ hang out.

Melissa holds down a job at the pizzeria.  They are a tight group over there.  I occasionally stop in at work to see her. I’ll do this when I start forgetting what she looks like, as she sneaks around and out of the house trying to avoid confrontation.  There she’s trapped, and polite, not wanting a scene.  On her nights off she’ll be hanging out as an escort with her buddies delivering pizza.  Her sister works there when she’s home from college and while away she is still texting the pizza maker, keeping tabs on ‘little gaeta’.

Melissa has more parentals than any kid I know yet I feel helpless as she navigates those mines in the world of adolescence.

When I find the strength I’ll write My Adventure at Parenting Two ‘Freshies’ on Cape Cod: The Vacation Not to be Forgotten.  It may be a while, this happened last summer and I am still recovering.  As parenting sometimes is the survival of the fittest.

Above I included the ‘freshie’ photo, Lord, may this be her only mugshot.  Amen.

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About Aligaeta

I am a life time resident of NY State. A graduate of Nassau Community College, AA in Liberal Arts and Queens College, BA in English and Sociology. I am the mother of four children, the survivor of divorce, and I love to write in prose. This blog will be a record of my journey... destination unknown. Read more... https://aligaeta.wordpress.com/
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8 Responses to Who is That Child?

  1. mimibear says:

    I love this post for the way it burned a hole in my heart. You opened up like a window on a cold winter day and your strong, cold wind has made me stop in my tracks and think about motherhood. Its a lonely job. Painful and heavy. Father’s cannot understand. Keep writing.

  2. Aligaeta says:

    Mimibear thanks for the inspiration for this post. See… I did give it great thought.

  3. jannatwrites says:

    Thoughts of teenage years scare me. It’s like playing a game of chess (one wrong move and you’re done) and I don’t know how to play. Reading your post makes it more obvious that I need to learn the rules before I have to play.

    You seem thoughtful in your actions…and good for you for not making yourself someone to blame for what happens in her life. It’s a tough job, but you’re doing it. Hang in there…

    • Aligaeta says:

      I have four children, all very different from one another. As this one pushes me I try to remain calm and she’ll come home. If she thought I was going to rag on her or take her things, I might see her even less or not at all.

      Melissa came home yesterday. I treat her like a guest. We make polite conversation, and I serve her foods she likes (she’s a vegetarian). She showed me the industrial bar her friends brought her to get for her birthday and asked me what I thought of it. Now, last year I told her she wasn’t allowed to have this done, but I didn’t get into that, I just told her “I don’t like it at all” and only because she asked. Last weeks lip piercing was a shock, I lost my mind screaming, “Take it out!” repeatedly. See I made a mistake, but she gave me another chance.
      Lucky me.

  4. Hey, you! Your post makes me scared just thinking what will I face when Eros hits his teenage years.

    I hope I will be ready for whatever it is that he throws at me. My mom told me that it takes a lifetime to learn how to a parent. And no matter how much you prepare yourself, there will still be something something that surprise you!

  5. Aligaeta says:

    Like I told you Jaja, relax and enjoy! Be that place of peace and serenity. Your mother sounds very wise.
    After commenting with you on your post the other day: http://secondphase.wordpress.com/2010/12/15/hyperactive-blessing-or-burden/
    I had this wonderful feeling, as nuturing elder, not as an ‘aligaeta’ but as an ‘alibaba’.
    Thank you for bringing me there. To understand, read my early posts backwards, click November and start at the bottom.

  6. Southern Man says:

    I am glad you are using your writing ability to have a creatve and emotional outlet. I imagine the tough part is opening yourself to your emotions and thoughts that scare most of us and I imagine it is the key to achieving a “oneness” with oneself as a writer.

    Being a parent is the toughest job I have ever taken on with the possible exception of falling in love with a married woman. As a parent, we are lead by dreams, then the realities of life; Schools, clothes, education…

    I believe that the word parent is synonymous with teacher. Like school, one must learn. A child’s unconditional love is a very precious thing but as they grow they will need to learn right from wrong, hurt from joy, happiness from sadness and we are their role models as we protect and educate our children in their life’s journey.

    I believe parents win in the first 5 years as we create a foundation for them to grow on. The rest of their lives they will grow challenging that foundation as we struggle to continue teaching and protecting. Only time will be the true judge of our success.

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