My daughter finished her off first year of high schooland it was not an easy year for either of us. It brought changes to friendships, homework, and our rules and boundaries, which meant rewriting the rules we already had in place.
Friends who were once fixtures in our home no longer visited. It’s been a revolving door of new people. Some stick around, while others fade away common interestssuch as shared lessons and sports.
I understood that my child was simply doing what all children do as they move from one stage of life to another: testing the waters by operating outside of her comfort zone. While necessary, it is difficult to watch, especially as a parent.
I don’t want to be too strict or pushy
Although I knew that new freedoms required new rules, I always believed that being extremely strict would cause problems. I’ve done my best to walk the line between being overly strict and overly lenient. To reach this milestone, I knew I had to be careful. I wanted to be understanding, but not pushy. I wanted to give her room to grow and make mistakes while keeping her safe. However, sometimes it seems like an exercise in futility.
As a strong student and competitive cheerleader in high school, my daughter is a truly responsible child. Of course she’s still a child.
We fought hard this year over one very specific thing: the curfew. Even though she couldn’t drive, she had made friends with kids who could. Some had theirs licenses for nine monthswhich meant they could legally drive her anywhere. In Maine, where we live, children can start driver’s education at age 15 and begin the process, including driving with a license.
I expressed my concerns to my daughter. “Nothing good happens after midnight,” I told her as she argued for a later curfew. Then I looked at the statistics and talked to other parents, which gave me some leverage in our debates. Yet we both fought to be heard.
Somehow we still couldn’t agree
We also continued to fight. I explained that to her prefrontal cortex will not fully develop until she is 25. She fought back by pointing out her responsibility, her grades and her near-perfect school attendance. Her curfew started at 11 p.m. and was moved up a little because the friends who were driving there had a later curfew.
She kept pushing. I kept pushing back until we reached a breaking point. She lied and I punished her. Our relationship was struggling. We talked less and fought more. Breaking the curfew didn’t help her case, I explained. She said she was a good child. It was an ongoing battle until we finally realized that we both had to give a little.
I was willing to extend her curfew a bit, and she had to be completely honest and keep her location at all times. She was willing to really hear me that it wasn’t her I didn’t trust, but the rest of the world—the parts neither of us had control over. It led to a deeper discussion about the real danger that exists, especially for a young girl. While I didn’t want to scare my daughter, I wanted to be as honest as possible and make sure she really understood.
Things are looking up
The year is behind us and we are grateful. As we get through the summer, things have gotten much better for both of us. We continue to talk as we explore this unknown territory. She’s honest, even when she thinks she’s going to get into trouble. For me, that honesty means fewer problems and fewer worries. The toughest period, at least as far as the curfew is concerned, seems to be behind us.
Of course, the teenage years are full of challenges. I know this after going through a gap of almost ten years and coming out the other side with her older sister and brother. They survived, I reassure myself when things get really tough with my daughter, and that helps me keep perspective.
More battles await us, I’m sure. However, I remain hopeful. Every time we get stuck it’s a new opportunity to make compromises, one of the most important skills she can learn as she grows into adulthood. Based on what we’ve been through this year with the curfew battle, my daughter will have plenty of opportunities to exercise, and so will I.
That’s the part I hold on to: we may not always agree, but we learn to meet in the middle.
