When are they old enough to stop being your children?

The other day a parent of a fourteen year old turned to me and said, "I think my daughter is having sex.  I wish I knew, so I can be sure she's protecting herself."

I was stunned.  First of all she's 14 and you think she's having sex and you are not tearing down her door and asking her? If ever there was a time for WTF, this is it.

"No," says the mum, "I can't intrude too much in her life or she'll never talk to me again.  I have to respect her privacy."

I had to get out of there before I said what I really thought.  And then I said it anyway.

I don't think my friend is going to talk to me again. 

What the hell?  My fourteen year daughter is having sex? I'm gonna talk to her.  Then I'm going to slap her up the back of the head, take her to the STD clinic, volunteer her to babysit at 'single mom with three kids two days before baby bonus comes in' house, ground her for life and threaten to tell her father.

I have always let my kids know about birth control and I have talked to them about the ethics of sex and I NEVER expected my 19 year old son to tell me he got a girl pregnant and it freaked me out but when it happened, he talked to me about it.  Because he knew I would be mad as hell but I would deal with it and support him and the girl and whatever choice they would make.

I hope that's good parenting.

The thing is, what age is it okay to let your kids have secrets?  What age do they have to be, for you to have confidence that they are going to make good, mature decisions?  What age do you let them live with the consequences?

Okay so Breyan has two children and another on the way.  Caitlin is 20 and is finishing school, has held down a job.  They are grown up right?

Well then, why do I still see them at 6 yrs old in my mind?   Why does it break my heart when they are tired or sick and I can't tuck them into bed or make them soup?

When exactly did they stop being my children and start being adults?

For example;

The Evil Kitty has been removed from the house.  We had to do it.  We cannot afford it's shots, spaying or declawing and it was destroying my house.  Caitlin agreed we had to do it after it sprayed her entire room and pooped and peed all over her bed. 

It made Caitlin so sad.  I felt like a right royal (&*&.  She talked to her friends about how she was feeling.  She talked to her boyfriend and she talked to her dad.  Who didn't she talk to?  Of Course, ME.  I tried to hug her and she did hug me back but in that frozen, pat on the back way you give to the drunken aunt at Xmas who insists on pinching your cheeks.

So I made her cooked vanilla pudding, pure comfort food.  Then I left her to herself.  What happened to the days when I could put her on my lap, hug her, feed her cookies, kiss the booboo and it would all be better?  What happened?  Seriously, I can't figure it out. 

Breyan doesn't even live at home but still calls me when he, Sarah or the kids get sick.  He still wants his mum when he's got the flu and his wife says she doesn't mind because hey, she doesn't have to put up with his whining.

I keep thinking that I should mind my own business and stay out of theirs but something will happen and I'm seeing them as six and they're seeing me as a busybody. 

But when they need money, a ride, a babysitter; then I'm the Mum. 

So when does the trade off come?  When can you say, You take care of this yourself, you are a grown up?

I see parents of fourteen year olds afraid to ask their kids if they are on drugs, having sex or skipping school and not saying anything because they "respect their children's privacy."  I gotta wonder if they are insane.  I'm sorry but if I'm the Mum of a fourteen year old who's doing any of those things--It's my parental duty to ask so I can kick their ass before they are calling for bail money. 

If I have to eavesdrop, grill my teens friends, siblings or the guy down the street who sees them on the bus everyday then I'm gonna do it.  It's not my right, it's my job as a parent.

I will respect their privacy to the point that I will not read their diary's, I will not make them tell me stuff but if I have the slightest suspicion they are doing something life threatening---all bets are off.

If we had more parents doing that, maybe we would have less gangs and less Columbines. 

The hard part is that parenting options have been cut back.  I don't say bring back the woodshed and the leather belt, goodness no but I do say that while you live in my house and I support you, you will respect me. 

I know that alot of this has to do with mum's and dads having to work two jobs to make ends meet or having kids with the ability to play divorced parents off against each other.  That's when as a parent you need to have a support group of friends and family who are willing to spy and snitch to you.  That's why small towns are awesome for bringing your kids up and if you're related to half the town, even better.

I have always let my kids know, "When you work and you pay your own bills and you move out you will still respect me even when you don't agree with me because I have earned it.  I will always respect your opinion as a person and I will listen to your side of the issue.  We can discuss it and if you make sense I will change my mind.  However, not when you are six." 

How do you pinpoint  the moment when you should respect your children as adults.  Is there a certain age?  Is there an emotional milestone?  Is there a bar graph with maturity vs respect?  C'mon, pin it down for me. 
Do you just wake up one day and say, "She is twenty, has a job, has an education, it's time for me to back off?"  Cause really, I'm seeing myself with Breyan, forty years old having the flu and he's on my couch.  I'm seeing Catie at thirty-five having her first child and I'm at the hospital with her bag and some Skittles, sleeping in a chair.

Maybe I should just move back to Southern Ontario and be physically too far away from them to be intrusive?  Nah, I'd just stress more and my phone and Internet bill would be sky high.  Not to mention the gas bill from her Dad driving back to Ottawa to check the tires on her car.

I still make sure to write my Gramma once a month.  I still bite the inside of my cheek when hubby's Dad goes on about something he doesn't approve of in his grandchildren.  Why, because they deserve my respect.  If it was really important to me, I would talk to them, explain my position and hope they got it.  Then I'd go and do it my way in clear conscience. 

I guess that is the moment.  If it's a life threatening issue like drugs, there is no age limit.  I'm gonna get in your face.  I'd do that for my brother or sister so why not to my kids?   However the less life threatening moment for letting your kids live their own lives and being an adult is when you know they can live with the consequences and they have a good chance of making the right decision for them.

But you can always have a blanket and pillow for the couch made up...just in case.