Social life strife

The Leaving Certer was moping around the kitchen, wearing his abandoned spaniel expression, so I immediately assumed that he was panicking about his exams and went into supportive-mother mode.

 

“Is everything okay? I'm here if you want to talk about anything, you know that.”

 

Leaving Certer responded to my concerned enquiries with unconvincing assurances that he was fine, okay, and grand – none of which filled me with confidence. However, I bided my time, remembering all the nuggets of parenting advice that warn against badgering teenagers, invading their personal space, or pinning them down and dragging the information you want from them by force.

 

Eventually, my patience paid off. After several minutes of sighing, staring into space, and getting in my way as I tried to make the dinner, he eventually opened up:

 

“I'm lonely,” he blurted out.

 

My conviction that he was (finally) starting to worry about June was instantly crushed by the stomach-punching belief that he was being bullied. I've gone to the seminars; I know that even if you are 6'3”, spot-free, outgoing and unintimidatingly good at football, you can be the victim of bullying.

 

“But I thought you had lots of friends,” I ventured gently.

 

“I do..,” he faltered, and then his expression changed from one of studied dejection to one of downright defiance. “But I never get to see them because I'm not allowed out!”

 

I blinked, gaping at him, as another dinner turned from acceptable blandness to dog food. I turned down the gas carefully and mentally checked my stock of frozen pizzas. Then I abandoned all the sensible advice I had logged from those parenting experts and let rip.

 

“The Leaving Cert is 73 days away, and you're worried about your social life?!”

 

“But all my friends go to the pub!”

 

I was feeling rather faint at that point, so I took a deep breath and lowered my voice by several octaves.

 

“I have no problem with you meeting your friends, but you're not going to the pub until you're 18.”

 

“But I'm nearly 18!”

 

“You won't have long to wait then.”

 

“That is so unfair!”

 

And then I invoked the motto of benign dictators and beleaguered mothers everywhere...

 

“It may not be fair, but while you live under my roof, you live by my rules.”

Aoife O'Carroll is a separated mum living in Co Kerry with her two boys aged 17 and 14, and a girl aged 10.