End of an Era

Ladies and Gentlemen, today is the day when it all starts to change. When everything I've been worrying about starts to happen. 

Today was Boy's last ever day at college. He will be taking his exams in the next few weeks and is then off to university. My baby is all growed up. 

His first school photo

Being all cute and innocent in Trinidad

Both of us hiding the incriminating cigarettes behind our backs. Yes, he was legal age

And more recently

The thing is I love him to bits for just being Boy. He makes me laugh. We like hanging out together. I'm not a traditional parent and he's an awesome son. 

I haven't done the school run for years. He's always been incredibly independent-minded and wanted to take himself off to school as soon as he possibly could. Today, it was absolutely chucking it down and as it was his last day, it felt right.

I'm glad I did. He went off to college, I went and celebrated with coffee and cake at The Window and later on we shared a heated debate on Facebook with other people from across the water about tattoos.

My baby is all growed up and I iz very proud of him. 

*proud mama smile* 

Co-Existing with Other Species

The Palais de Roses is an interesting place to be. You know from your visits here that I have a plethora of new house plants and The Cat and The Boy and a bunch of frogs I've kissed and refused to turn into Princes. Yes, I know Boy is now much taller than me and he's looking forward to his 17th birthday and driving lessons, but he's still The Boy to me, and I suspect he always will be.

But The Boy comes with added extras: friends.

There's his best friend, who quite frankly for all intents and purposes lives here. My couch is his bed most nights. He's so at home here, he puts away the groceries, does my dishes and doesn't mind being roped into gardening duties.

It's not unusual for me to go to bed and there are 2 teenagers stretched out on the floor killing things enthusiastically on the XBox. When I stagger down in the morning looking for my dose of Eine, there can be 4 or 5 bodies snoring gently in my front room.

It's not unusual when I cook, for me to prepare enough food for a few days. Or at least there was when I went to bed. In the morning, the pot is empty. Apparently, they like my cooking. Now when I do the shopping I make sure I get enough snacks in to feed a small army. Let me tell you, 3 or 4 teenagers eat enough for a small army. I'd go as far as to say a Plague of Locusts is nothing compared with a couple of hungry teenagers. They'll go through everything immediately edible and if it's not, they'll get the pots and pans out.

I like da yoof of today. They are lively and fun. They are apologetic if they've got too excited whilst killing things on the XBox and then face the grumpiness of me at 4 am. They'll cheerfully clear off, if I tell them I need some space and come back when I'm sociable. They ask me how my day has been, and tell me all about theirs and the latest encounters with chavs. We have indepth conversations on the meaning of life. I find them generous and caring, behind all the teenager speak. They'll spend hours on the phone with each other. They are loyal to a fault.

These are precious days.

In a few years, these teenagers will be adults. They'll be going off to university, getting jobs, travelling round the world, getting married, having children. That they choose to spend their time here on my living room floor, is just amazing. They fill my house with laughter and fun. I hope in the years to come that that we won't lose track of each other. That they'll continue to visit. Hopefully, with partners and then children.

The Birds and the Bees

I believe my primary purpose as a parent is to prepare Boy for his life ahead as an independent, functioning adult. Last year, he and I had cause to have The Conversation about *sex*, which we both found excrutiating, but I persevered to the very end and we agreed never to have to repeat the experience.

My Viking and I were recently sharing coffee and conversation and we drifted to the issue of consent. He laughed when I said how concerned I was when the time came, that Boy realised the importance of gaining consent. I had told Boy that if a girl was pissed, even if she said 'yes' to treat it as NO, take her home, ring her again when she sobered up. My Viking's argument was that I was being unrealistic, most teenagers tend to get laid when alcohol was involved and it was unlikely that Boy would be any different. My argument was to do with the safety of the girl involved and the problem of date-rape. If a girl can't remember giving consent, because she's too pissed and realises she's had sex, I'd really rather it weren't my Boy in the dock.

Age is another issue. Have you seen teenage girls recently? They are deeply scary. How can anyone tell how old they are? They're all made up, boobs poking out everywhere, lots of flesh and not a lot of clothing. How is any bloke in a dark nightclub, supposed to know the age of the woman pressed up against him? It's not like much conversation is going on. My way round this is to advise Boy to demand to see Proof of Age. My Viking looked at me askance. He suggested that it was a bit of a passion-killer. I shrugged and wondered what the problem with that was.

Ultimately, I want to be able to issue Boy with a Consent Form and a Breathalyser, along with the packet of mega-thick, anti-viral, condoms. That way, I know he'll be completely safe. My Viking tells me I'm being over-protective and unrealistic. I suspect he's right. I know for Boy to grow up into Man, he will have to negotiate these minefields for himself. But it's a harsh world out there, and the smallest stupid choice can have such devastating consequences for all involved.