Not My Proudest Parenting Moment

It wasn’t my proudest parenting moment.

We wanted to go to a Bangkok night market. All the tour info said to go. Great bargains. Lots of interesting things to buy, they said.

So we picked the Patpong night market as it was an easy train ride away.  Sure, there was  redlight district nearby, but times, they said, were a changing, and the market was moving away from that kind of thing.  The redder lighted places were off on side streets, they said.  

We were there rather early.  Many places were still setting up.  It was all T-shirts and watches until we came upon a stall with a vast variety of sex toys and,.... toy airplane models.  Apparently an untapped niche.

Throwing stars and hi-voltage stunning flashlights were a few stalls down.

“Are these even legal to have?” I asked.

“NO!. Of course not, they for police work!”  And yet there they were.  Regulation Police Throwing Stars.  

Down the main drag at Patpong was lots of the same, but the clubs were close by and were not quite Disney.  Open doors spilled out thumps and bumps and glimpses of swim-suited girls leaning, bored, against  a forest of brass poles.

I recalled just then a Tom Robbins book I read about the shenanigans that occur in places like these with women and ping pong balls.  Just as I recalled this, touts appeared listing all the things you could see for a low low price. My daughter asked just what exactly they do with a ping pong ball and we euphemized our way around the topic.

At first the touts were discrete in just showing the cards to you.  As the evening wore on they began reciting the list from memory. Shoot ping pong ball, hold pencil, write name, hold razor blade, blow smoke, cut banana.  Wait, razor blade?  Cut banana? It was a genital circus!

And though there was a part us that were curious about such feats of skill, the evening started a conversation that lasted the rest of our trip about exploitation and what it means to be a tourist.  Where’s the boundary between Madam Ginsu and the disabled stone carver we watch at an EU sponsored workshop or between she and the fishing village that we pay 20 bucks a head to cruise through people’s lives looking for photo ops.

So, I don’t think I’d drag my kid down to Patpong again.  We went to another safer, cleaner night market the following night and had an overall much more enjoyable time, but Sarah Scissor-whatever, did provide some opportunity for parenting moments or life moments.

Levelling Up!!

To recap from our last episode, we sent our daughter off to her first Bacchanalia.  A post semester high school party scheduled to start at 11 pm.  Yes, 11 pm.  Far too late for any working parent to go spy or chaperone.

So, we sent her and a friend with our driver and a litany of warnings and do’s and don’ts and faith that she had enough common sense to come home safely.

And, she did!  

She came home safely within curfew.  Remember, this is a liberal drinking age country and she confirmed that alcohol was flowing freely.  We’ve never really hidden alcohol from our kids.  They’ve been offered tastes from a very young age and none of them have liked the taste.  Whatever taste we’ve provided has often been spit back out.

So, we counseled for years about the alcohol hiding in all those fru-fru drinks and how this is often a young person’s downfall.  “This tastes just like Kool-Aid!”

This advice, though, offered no preparation for the Indonesian way of nightlife.  The drink of choice for your typical teen here?  Vodka… shots.

And this, in a single moment, demonstrates the power of peer pressure.  

All the years when she’s been offered sips of beer or wine by her parents have been met with a screwed up face and gagging and sometimes spraying the offending agent back at us.  But, when a classmate offers her a shot of vodka?  Sure, why not?  Everyone else is doing it.

She said it tasted awful, and this is when, maybe, common sense kicked back in and she didn’t drink anymore.  She did get some interesting insights into how alcohol works in some of her friends.  She said this party was a lot like her catholic middle school dances, when everyone was sort of goofy and disinhibited because they didn’t know better.  Dancing and talking in clots and acting silly.  

3 or 4 years on, it is still the same; disinhibited but for different reasons.  Best of all, though, she had fun and would go again. And we will feel a little more comfortable with the idea.

On the other side of the family tree, our son passed his first semester at university and successfully navigated his way solo around the world through missed flights and lost luggage and nearly 24 hours sitting in a metal tube.  It is wonderful to have him back in our lives for a few weeks.

This week it feels good to be a parent. I swear last night I heard a deep, warm, computer-generated gong-tone and a deep voice that said,..

“Level Up! Congratulations! Adolescent knowledge attained.  You gained 50 experience points, 10 wisdom credits and 1000 grey hairs!”

Watershed Parenting Moment

This is a watershed parenting moment.

When we first found out we were coming to Jakarta we were told so many good things.  We were told we would love the place and thus far, we’re pretty happy with where we ended up.

But, we were cautioned about a few things.  The traffic and pollution you've heard about.  The other thing was the school.  The school Z attends is an amazing facility and we've been happy for the most part with her teachers.  We think Z has been pretty happy as well. But we were warned a number of times about things that happen after school.  Namely, the parties.  

It seems that there is a pretty liberal interpretation of a drinking age here in Indonesia.  On the books, the drinking age is 21, but no one knows this.  In particular, the people who sell alcohol.  Apparently, if you look like you've entered puberty you can get alcohol.  Like so many of the rules, they’re overlooked until needed.

There is also a contingent of kids at school who come from significant means. Children of local magnates and executives.

What do well-off people like to do? Entertain. Which leads us to the parties.  Several times a year usually at term breaks, a group of kids rent out a local night club and invites most if not all of the high school.  These are not school sanctioned events The parties start at 11 pm.  They charge admission and I’m told they only allow kids from the school in. They all dress up and talk and dance to loud music,... oh, yeah, and they drink.  Reportedly, a lot.  Or some do anyway. There are reports of kids getting out of hand with their drinking.

The three of us have all been talking about this issue for months.  How to be responsible How to limit oneself. How to be safe. How resist peer pressure.  Maybe we just go out and buy her some drinks? No, thanks, Dad, that would be awkward. We wrestled with whether or not to allow this at all.

There was a party earlier in the year.  Z opted not to go and quietly Mrs. S.A.M and I were pleased, or at least relieved.

Which brings us to the watershed moment.

It’s the end of the school term this week, and tonight there is another party. This time our wee daughter has asked to go with a friend from school. And, so we reviewed all the things we talked about.  We tighten our sphincters and place our faith in our ability as parents, over the years, to instill some common sense and good decision making in her.  

We hope she comes back safely and pray that we haven’t sent her down a path of long term addiction and misery.  It’s going to be a long night.