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There are things to be concerned about, and then there are things to be concerned about. Yesterday afternoon, I was witness to the latter variety when I got a text from Kristi: "Call me as soon as you get this. It's about Abbey." I called as soon as I got it. What I heard was the leading edges of a long story, but the upshot was that Abbey called her at work saying, "Mom, you need to come home. The police want to talk to you." Yep. If Lazarus had been a mom, all Jesus would have had to do was shout that at his tomb, and Ol' Lazzy-Boy would've been up and out before the sentence ended.
The upshot, she learned, was that there was a group of 15-to-17's that included Abbey, her ostensible boyfriend, her dearest frenemy (which is a word I loathe but it's apropos), and a bottle of Smirnoff, from which said boyfriend apparently swigged a great deal. This led to him losing consciousness (possibly due to a drug interaction), which led to a panicked 911 call, which led to an ambulance, which led to the police. They said they had a hard time getting a straight answer from her, which surprises me little, but they didn't believe Abbey had been drinking herself, knock wood. Unfortunately, this all came with the discovery that she's been sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night, along with recent revelations regarding an out-of-state and some rather...advanced text conversations.
So the final outcome is that she's here in new Hampshire for a few days, away from Nefarious Massachusetts Influences and things like her cell phone. She's sanguine about the whole thing, although she's been rather bored today as I've been working my extremities off between job hunting and getting the new CD ready. Still, she's got one more full day here, so I think I'll make a point of spending some time with her tomorrow and try to get her talking, preferably in non-performace mode. On the one hand, I know this is adolescence, and more friends than not went through much the same and survived, but on the other...well, on the other, she's my daughter, which means Being Understanding of Her Growth Path is harder than it otherwise might be. It's especially hard remembering what one's brain is like as a teenager; if it's anything like mine, hers is a snarled mess, and I can't imagine what that's got to be like given the extra pressures society lays on her in the New Media age, and the extra pressures she puts on herself.
Anyroad, she's asleep on the couch right now, and I'll be turning in shortly. Maybe we'll play some card games in the morning, or maybe just hang out. Keep it simple. Keep it us.
The upshot, she learned, was that there was a group of 15-to-17's that included Abbey, her ostensible boyfriend, her dearest frenemy (which is a word I loathe but it's apropos), and a bottle of Smirnoff, from which said boyfriend apparently swigged a great deal. This led to him losing consciousness (possibly due to a drug interaction), which led to a panicked 911 call, which led to an ambulance, which led to the police. They said they had a hard time getting a straight answer from her, which surprises me little, but they didn't believe Abbey had been drinking herself, knock wood. Unfortunately, this all came with the discovery that she's been sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night, along with recent revelations regarding an out-of-state and some rather...advanced text conversations.
So the final outcome is that she's here in new Hampshire for a few days, away from Nefarious Massachusetts Influences and things like her cell phone. She's sanguine about the whole thing, although she's been rather bored today as I've been working my extremities off between job hunting and getting the new CD ready. Still, she's got one more full day here, so I think I'll make a point of spending some time with her tomorrow and try to get her talking, preferably in non-performace mode. On the one hand, I know this is adolescence, and more friends than not went through much the same and survived, but on the other...well, on the other, she's my daughter, which means Being Understanding of Her Growth Path is harder than it otherwise might be. It's especially hard remembering what one's brain is like as a teenager; if it's anything like mine, hers is a snarled mess, and I can't imagine what that's got to be like given the extra pressures society lays on her in the New Media age, and the extra pressures she puts on herself.
Anyroad, she's asleep on the couch right now, and I'll be turning in shortly. Maybe we'll play some card games in the morning, or maybe just hang out. Keep it simple. Keep it us.
