It takes a village

When I was in high school, I practically lived at my best friend's house. I got yelled at if I rang the doorbell rather than just walking in. I had my own bottle of regular Coke in their fridge, because they only drank diet, but I didn't. I knew where their silverware and plates were kept and helped myself to the snacks in their cupboard. I think I may have even had my own toothbrush at her house. I called her mom "Mama D," and if I was leaving my house, chances were pretty high that I'd end up at hers. 

My group of friends was fairly small, but very tight-knit. My parents knew the parents of my friends, and, more importantly, how to get in touch with them. We didn't have these fancy cell phones, so the threat of my mother calling my friend's mother was quite real, and there was nothing I could do to intervene that. I knew there'd be consequences if they found out that I wasn't where I said I would be. My friends and I were pretty predictable. We had our routines. Friday night after the football game, we'd go to Friendly's down the road from the high school. Saturday I'd probably hang out with one or two of my girlfriends. Saturday night, a friend that was a boy might pop over to my house unexpectedly, and I'd sneak out the back door after I thought my parents were asleep, to sit in the back yard and look at the stars while chatting with him. Sunday I'd talk on the phone all day with my best friend, or I would go to her house again. As much of a pain in the ass as I was (and I'm sure my parents won't disagree with that), I was kind of a goody-two-shoes. Afraid to bend the rules too far, for fear that I might break them. I was kind of boring. Didn't look too far for adventure, didn't wander too far off the beaten path. My parents (almost) always knew where I was.

Looking back, I can now appreciate how important that was, having my parents know where I was and who I was with. And now as the mother of a high school teenager, I see that importance ten-fold. 

I don't think parents connect as much as perhaps they used to. I think it's more commonplace to leave the plan-making up to the kids, saying things like, "Find out what his plans are," rather than saying, "Let me call her mother to find out," like my parents did. I'm not a big fan of helicopter parenting, and I want my kids to be able to do things for themselves. But I also understand the need to know where my child is and with whom. 

Much like I did, my son, who is a freshman in high school, has a fairly small, tight-knit group of music kids as friends. He spends quite a decent amount of time with one particular family, playing video games with his friend after school, attempting to study, staying for dinner and probably eating most of whatever is in their snack cupboards. I'm good friends with his parents, and they've told me numerous times that my son is welcome over any time. It was reported to me that one day when the mother returned home from work, my son greeted her with "Hi Mom!" It makes me very happy to know that he has a second home, as I did, and he feels as comfortable with that family as he does. 

Not too long ago, my son was having a very difficult time in school, and disappeared briefly. He got very upset, and just walked out after lunch. No one knew where he went. I was at work, and wouldn't have had any idea what was going on for hours, except his friend called me. He was very concerned. Attempting to stave off the panic mode, I called my ex-husband, explained the situation as calmly as I could, and immediately headed for home. My ex called the friend's father, and we all set out in a different direction searching for him. As I was aimlessly driving around, tears streaming down my face, trying to put myself in his head, it hit me that he doesn't have a "secret" hiding spot to sneak off to. There isn't a particular place that he likes to go to cool down. He doesn't have a favorite spot to chill out. Except his friend's house. If he's not there, where else would he be?

After 4 hours of being MIA from the school, he called me, heartbroken and tearful, with his tail tucked between his legs. He had walked about 10 miles south and was just outside a neighboring village. He said he just needed to think and calm down. I listed off a half dozen places much closer to home that he could have gone to escape, and reminded him that his best friend's family is one of the most caring, open families we know. "You could tell them anything under the sun and they're not going to judge you!" I exclaimed at him. "Plus," I added selfishly, "they'd let me know you were safe. Go there and hide next time."

In numerous ways throughout the years it has been proven to me that it does indeed take a village to raise a child. I'm glad that my children have others who help care for them, and I'm glad to be there for my friends' kids as well. In honor of Mother's Day, I say thank you, not only to my biological mom for putting up with all my teenage angst crap and helping me whenever I need it, but also to my best friend's mom for taking me in as your own, my ex-mother-in-law who helps me with the kids and has kept a very strong relationship with me, my aunt who treats me like a daughter and bestows lots of gift cards on me, my friends who act as mothers to my kids, and my friends who act as mothers to me when I really need it. We are all tied to one another and we're in this together. I love my village.