Touché In A Good Way

I decided to do a little Christmas shopping this morning and found myself browsing the aisles of Ulta.  My son loves salon products (though I torture him with the more cost efficient drug store brands) and was looking for a value gift set.  None were to be found.  I had a short list of items for myself and started hunting for those.  No such luck.  Frustration started to set in, as I had coupons burning a hole in my pocket and beauty products calling my name.  I combed through the store looking for something, anything, worth buying.  My last stop was in the flat iron section.  My son has been complaining about his current flat iron "frying his hair", so maybe I would strike gold there.  Since I’ve already admitted to buying drug store shampoo (Suave to be exact), you’ve probably guessed I am not willing to shell out $100+ dollars for a flat iron.  I skimmed through the price tags, looking for something with a name brand (important to him) and low price.  I zeroed in on a hot pink Bed Head 1" flat iron for $30.  Eureka!  I began inspecting my prospect, when I felt the radar eyes of a sales associate zooming in on me.  When this happens, my guard immediately flies up.  I made my start in retail and know the associates have daily, do or die, sales goals.  I did not want to go through the spiel as to why I really NEEDED to purchase the $100 Chi flat iron.  Look lady, no one NEEDS a $100 flat iron, let alone my teenage son.  She made her way over with a glossy red smile and wing tipped eyes and asked if she could help me find anything.  I told her I had just found what I was looking for and explained it was for my teenage son.  She eyeballed the iron for a moment and looked at me with hesitance, “How do you think he’s going to feel about it being pink?”

Pause.  I have a filter, I really do.  Every time I’m asked a question, I usually think of a silent response only I could appreciate, and then speak the one I know to be appropriate.  This morning I suffered a slight filter malfunction and responded in a ‘duh’ sort of fashion, “My son is gay, he loves pink.”  She didn’t even give me time to regret or enjoy my comment with her quick reply, “My daughter is a lesbian and she can’t stand pink.”  Well damn.  This was a first.  My filter malfunction is often used as a scare tactic to make annoying people go away and she just one upped me.  Impressive.  God, maybe I do need a $100 flat iron. 

I asked the sales associate (turns out she’s the manager) if she was serious and she gave me a grinning, yes.  She told me her daughter is 23 and came out to her when she was 20.  We went on to talk for about 15 minutes comparing some of our parenting experiences.  She didn’t know her daughter was gay, growing up, but in retrospect felt there were some signs she missed.  The example she used: Her daughter would get very upset over tiffs with her (platonic) girlfriends.  More upset than what she felt was normal.  She had no idea these girlfriends were actually crushes.  Remember how tough that was?  Ugh, the heartache!  So, not only was her daughter having her heart broken, she had no one to talk about it with.  Double heartache!  

Our conversation was interrupted by a customer and we said a quick goodbye.  I felt so glad to have this exchange and left feeling completely exhilarated.  Funny how easily we connect with strangers, when we should really place more focus on connecting with those closest to us.  Thank you Ulta for a little life lesson and no, I did not buy the $100 flat iron. 

Child Predators

The accusations of child molestation on Penn State’s former assistant football coach, Jerry Sandusky, have opened a topic of discussion that I’ve been leery about sharing.  But, if I am going to talk about my experience with raising a gay teen, it’s important to discuss the good and the bad.  My son was not a victim of sexual abuse (according to today’s laws and standards), but came very close.  

If I’ve not made it obvious, my son and I are close.  We talk about almost everything and I long ago broke the parenting rule of not making friends with your child.  Be.The.Authority. Why not both?  Though some might argue the two conflict, I disagree in the realm of parenting.  I need to be friends with my child.  

He and I have been chatting as I type and he just headed out the door for school saying, “Text me.”  I asked, “Why?” His response, “I dunno, just text me and we can talk.”  That is the kind of relationship I want with my child.  He wants me in his life.  

Who feels comfortable getting nailed with questions by a figure of pure authority and how honest are they going to be with their answers?  Do not let me sugar coat this.  He frequently tries to skirt around the truth, but since we’re friends I can call him out on a lie in an instant, which results in a thin defenseless smile.   Truth then follows.  Poor kid.  I need to know when he is feeling down and why. I need to know what his relationships are like with his peers and teachers.  I need to know what paths lay before him, so I can offer advice about what they might bring.  I talk to him about music, tv shows, my experiences as a teen and so on, but there are perimeters to the friendship.  I don’t discuss finances (other than the importance of limitations and responsibility) or treat him as a confidant; I reserve those conversations for my husband.  There are various levels of friendship and I believe an authoritative friendship is possible.  We are close, but when he ignores chores, rules, academic expectations, etc., authority kicks in and he often faces a penalty (loss of cell phone, car, etc.)  My stance is he is working for himself, not me.  He is not my protégé, he is his own.  I am his biggest advocate and want nothing more than to see him happy and a productive contributor to society.  A parent is a blend of variables: guardian, role model, friend, adviser and more.  Add a splash of make life miserable (name your poison, for me it’s not giving him an allowance), so they can see what the real world is like and you have your formula.  My way isn’t necessarily the best way, but I’ve managed to open a bridge of communication.  Unfortunately, our bridge has experienced barriers.   

Facebook is an obvious danger as the perfect playground for predators and pedophiles.  My son, with my permission, created a Facebook profile when he was 14 and I religiously monitored his friend’s list.  His privacy settings were as tight as they could be.  One summer, when he was 15 I noticed he was friends with a man who appeared to be in his 40’s and I asked him about the ‘friendship’.  The man was friends of a family member, but to us a complete stranger.  Red flags everywhere, I explained that no 40+ year old stranger has any business being Facebook friends with him and insisted the man be deleted immediately.  I checked my son’s friend’s list for the man’s name in the following months and the problem appeared to be resolved.  Wrong.       

My son officially came out to me when he was 14.  More on that subject another time.  When he was 16, I caught him sneaking out and immediately confiscated his phone.  His sneaking out was a massive breach of trust and I needed answers.  I read all of his text messages, which showed nothing incriminating (always on the scout for alcohol and drug use).  Realizing his Facebook application was open; I decided to read all of his private messages.  This is when my heart dropped to the floor.  He and the strange man, who I quickly learned was also gay, had been corresponding via private message for over a year, starting when he was 15.  In the beginning, many of the conversations were harmless.  On the cover, the man seemed impressive, worldly and cool.  I Googled his name and several national newspapers and magazines mention him, as he is the long time manager of a famous national park attraction.  His occupation made my heart doubly sink: His job was to interact with families and children on the daily basis.  The conversations were baited and my son swallowed the hook.  I will not go into specifics, but as their conversations progressed the man began discussing penis size, sexual positions, techniques and fantasies of my son; it translated into over 30 pages of filth.  He even suggested my son try to visit, expenses paid.  I was sick and had no idea how to handle the matter.  I gave it one day of thought, asked advice from a few very close friends, and acted fast.

First, I sat down with my son, told him what I had discovered and poignantly explained the dangers of his correspondence with this man.  As he grew up, I had drowned him with talks about safety, right versus wrong, etc.  I asked him, “Why?!?!  You know better!”  He was embarrassed, but admitted to being curious about the man and tried to cushion it as a game; suggesting he and a female friend of his were egging the man on and laughing at what a big loser he was.  No way around it: the conversations were vulgar, inappropriate and potentially dangerous.  The man lives over 2000 miles from us and I did not feel like he was an immediate threat to my son; however, I was very concerned about the families and children he interacted with on the daily basis.

I contacted both local and federal authorities and was told because no pornographic material had been exchanged and no actual meeting ever took place, nothing illegal occurred.  That’s right!  Dirty old men or women can contact your children via the internet and be as verbally lewd as they wish.  No crime done.  To the authority’s credit, they recognized the potential danger and the man is currently under investigation as a child predator… while working at possibly your family’s next vacation destination.  1) Why does it take so many years and additional victims to justify removing a potential threat to children and 2) Why are lewd conversations between an adult and child legal?

  

This post is more than long winded, so I will take pause.  Love and guard your child and let them know you will always be their advocate.   

The Torch

I haven’t posted in a while, because I’ve spent the last few weeks processing the latest event: I took my own advice and told my mom her grandson is gay (said in big spooky voice).  She is one of the last to know about the ‘coming out’.  Really, she was probably one of the first (which she confirmed); since it was pretty apparent by the time he was 6 or 7.  As I’ve mentioned, my parents are Christian and homosexuality in their Book (also my Book) is a sin.  So, how did the conversation go? 

After a little liquid courage, I called my mom with purpose, spent some time on small talk, and then asked, “Mom, have you ever noticed anything different about your grandson?”  She quickly responded in her cut the bullshit tone with, “Just spit it out.”  You got it.  “Mom, he’s gay.” Silence, then, “Well, we’ve always suspected.  Maybe this is just something he’s exploring.”  I gulped another swig of wine and rolled my eyes, “No mom, not exploring.  He’s 17 and sure he’s gay.”  More silence. 

At first, she attempted the diplomatic approach and regurgitated a practiced speech regarding views found in the Bible.  In an attempt to match the ridiculous, I suggested brides who are discovered to be non-virgins be stoned to death…in front of their father’s house, of course (Deuteronomy 22:13-21).  Duh.  I received another cut the bullshit response (likewise, I thought) and decided to leave the Book alone for now. 

We talked for over 3 hours and I could hear her swallowing tears.  She ended the conversation with, “I will always love my grandson unconditionally and it is not my place to judge.”  Her heart has always been filled with love, so I was not surprised to hear those words.  She said she would research the matter further and in the end, she also told my dad (the ultimate hurdle).  

I spoke with her about a week later and she decided to stick with the neutral ground: no judgment and love unconditionally.  As for dad, he stands with mom and promised to be more sensitive when telling gay jokes.  That’s mighty good of you dad.  I’m glad they plan to love their grandson unconditionally, but am not sure I would dub the conversation a success.  Instead of accepting his homosexuality, they are tolerating it.  Can’t wait for the next family get together. 

Bottom line.  I remember riding in the back seat of my grandfather’s Camry as he drove to the local drugstore.  He began throwing around racial slurs and my 7 years of wisdom told me I should correct him.  I tried to explain we are all the same, all from the same God and all good.  He dodged my tutorial and swiftly moved onto the stupidity of female drivers.  I believe his words were, "They should be at home!  Having babies!"  Um hello?  Future female driver here in the backseat!  This might be where I learned to roll my eyes.  Inherently, I knew nothing I said would change his mind and settled for this:  I was in the present and working for the future and my grandfather was committed to guarding the past.  We must think about multiple scenarios of right versus wrong and accept there are multiple best ways; not just one.  Hopefully, my parents avoid running with my grandfather's torch and open their hearts to compassion and equality for all.  I expect this is something they will try to tuck neatly in a corner; little do they know the arena's shape is a circle.