and
broached the subject as gently as possible, “Abby, I found something in your
room I want to ask you about.”
“Oh, so you’re going
through my stuff now?” came her indignant reply. “That’s just great. Thanks,
Mom, for valuing my privacy!” The sarcasm was so thick, Sarah could have cut it
with a knife.
“Sweetheart, I’m not
angry, and I do value your privacy. I just want to know why you have
condoms in your room.” She witnessed her daughter’s face turning various
shades of red, half with embarrassment, half with anger. “They weren’t exactly
hidden from view,” she explained. “I was putting away your laundry and saw
them under the bed.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “Well,
you can stop freaking out cause it’s no big deal, Mom. It’s not like
I’m...having sex.” She found it challenging to say the S word in
front of her mother, despite her accepting, open attitude. “We have to learn
how to put on a condom on a banana in health class, and well, I was nervous about
it. I thought I’d practice.” Health
class? That threw Sarah for a loop. “Your
teacher is showing you how to use condoms?” Suddenly she had never been happier
to teach college instead of high school. She took another deep breath and
continued, “Abby, listen, I’m not mad, I just want to know the truth, okay?”
“That is the truth, Mom.
I can show you a note from the teacher,” Abby said matter-of-factly, her
defensive tone fading. “Some kids’ parents wouldn’t let them participate,
but I knew you wouldn’t care so I didn’t bother showing it to you.”
Sarah considered her
next step very carefully. Should she accept Abby’s explanation or probe more
deeply? She considered her options for pushing for more information. Choose
your battles , she told herself. Maybe it was best to show trust; perhaps if
she didn’t force Abby onto the defensive, she might drop the attitude. Sarah
chose a course of action: “Well, I guess I have to commend you for being so
well-prepared for class, huh?”
Abby’s mouth configured
into something that looked vaguely like a smile. It was so unfamiliar to
Sarah at this juncture, she almost didn’t recognize it. “Sorry, I probably
should have showed you the note,” Abby conceded.
“Sweetheart, you know
you can come to me about anything, right?” she reminded her daughter. “I’m not
one of those close-minded, judgmental parents. I’m supportive and I really do want
you to be your own person. I just want to make sure you’re safe, physically and
psychologically, okay?”
Abby nodded and Sarah
thought there might have even been a tiny tear stinging at the corner of her
eyelid. There might be more she’s not telling me, Sarah guessed, but
I think I have to let her come to me at this point. Abby surrendered to her
mother’s outstretched arms for a close embrace. Sarah couldn’t remember
the last time she had willingly hugged her.
Ah, letting people come
to me. That seems to be the theme of the week.
***
Sarah was not as excited
for her night out with Rachel and Mark as she had hoped to be. She convinced
them to postpone the excursion to Saturday night instead of Friday so she could
catch up on sleep and, feeling like Cinderella, she had also committed to
grading a certain number of exams on Saturday afternoon before she would allow
herself out of the house. Work before play , she reminded her friend,
whose priorities often differed. She sat in her favorite armchair warmed
by the strong rays of the September afternoon sun streaming through the panes
of the French doors that led to the deck. Her cat was basking in the
sun-drenched warm spot as Sarah completed grading the requisite number of exams
plus a few more for good measure. The rest could wait till Sunday.
Abby and Owen were both
staying with friends for the weekend, leaving the house eerily quiet. The
shadows cast by the trees onto the back lawn seemed to be
broached the subject as gently as possible, “Abby, I found something in your
room I want to ask you about.”
“Oh, so you’re going
through my stuff now?” came her indignant reply. “That’s just great. Thanks,
Mom, for valuing my privacy!” The sarcasm was so thick, Sarah could have cut it
with a knife.
“Sweetheart, I’m not
angry, and I do value your privacy. I just want to know why you have
condoms in your room.” She witnessed her daughter’s face turning various
shades of red, half with embarrassment, half with anger. “They weren’t exactly
hidden from view,” she explained. “I was putting away your laundry and saw
them under the bed.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “Well,
you can stop freaking out cause it’s no big deal, Mom. It’s not like
I’m...having sex.” She found it challenging to say the S word in
front of her mother, despite her accepting, open attitude. “We have to learn
how to put on a condom on a banana in health class, and well, I was nervous about
it. I thought I’d practice.” Health
class? That threw Sarah for a loop. “Your
teacher is showing you how to use condoms?” Suddenly she had never been happier
to teach college instead of high school. She took another deep breath and
continued, “Abby, listen, I’m not mad, I just want to know the truth, okay?”
“That is the truth, Mom.
I can show you a note from the teacher,” Abby said matter-of-factly, her
defensive tone fading. “Some kids’ parents wouldn’t let them participate,
but I knew you wouldn’t care so I didn’t bother showing it to you.”
Sarah considered her
next step very carefully. Should she accept Abby’s explanation or probe more
deeply? She considered her options for pushing for more information. Choose
your battles , she told herself. Maybe it was best to show trust; perhaps if
she didn’t force Abby onto the defensive, she might drop the attitude. Sarah
chose a course of action: “Well, I guess I have to commend you for being so
well-prepared for class, huh?”
Abby’s mouth configured
into something that looked vaguely like a smile. It was so unfamiliar to
Sarah at this juncture, she almost didn’t recognize it. “Sorry, I probably
should have showed you the note,” Abby conceded.
“Sweetheart, you know
you can come to me about anything, right?” she reminded her daughter. “I’m not
one of those close-minded, judgmental parents. I’m supportive and I really do want
you to be your own person. I just want to make sure you’re safe, physically and
psychologically, okay?”
Abby nodded and Sarah
thought there might have even been a tiny tear stinging at the corner of her
eyelid. There might be more she’s not telling me, Sarah guessed, but
I think I have to let her come to me at this point. Abby surrendered to her
mother’s outstretched arms for a close embrace. Sarah couldn’t remember
the last time she had willingly hugged her.
Ah, letting people come
to me. That seems to be the theme of the week.
***
Sarah was not as excited
for her night out with Rachel and Mark as she had hoped to be. She convinced
them to postpone the excursion to Saturday night instead of Friday so she could
catch up on sleep and, feeling like Cinderella, she had also committed to
grading a certain number of exams on Saturday afternoon before she would allow
herself out of the house. Work before play , she reminded her friend,
whose priorities often differed. She sat in her favorite armchair warmed
by the strong rays of the September afternoon sun streaming through the panes
of the French doors that led to the deck. Her cat was basking in the
sun-drenched warm spot as Sarah completed grading the requisite number of exams
plus a few more for good measure. The rest could wait till Sunday.
Abby and Owen were both
staying with friends for the weekend, leaving the house eerily quiet. The
shadows cast by the trees onto the back lawn seemed to be
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