Most of my children still living at home with me now have been here for quite some time. My 14 year old daughter came here when she was six, then sweet, quiet and only somewhat academically challenging. Now she’s loud, snippy, mean and very grade challenged.

I know that most of this is adolescent hormones. I’ve been here many times with many daughters. Formerly sweet, a weird light switch snapped and miss-wired their brains into rude images of who they once were. Adoption issues on top of this, combined with the trauma they’ve been through always makes for an interesting mix.

I do my darndest to stave off the boy-craziness that seems to hit in middle school. Are you kidding me girls? Like I think y’all are ready for that?

First they need to work out their mama issues, to understand that I’m the good guy, not the one who abandoned, rejected and mistreated them. I’m the one who remains in spite of the countless attempts to reject me, to not trust me. I totally understand their distrust, I get where it’s coming from, but they need to learn some degree of normalcy before adulthood, before they become parents.

I put my foot down especially during the ages of 13-17 regarding boyfriends. Teenage girls who’ve been through what my daughters once encountered before adoption are at too much risk for either promiscuity or rash choices that could have long reaching consequences. The maturity level in older adopted children who’d never had their basic needs met when they were young precludes an ability to choose wisely.

I keep them busy with sports and church youth group activities plus a benefit of a large family is that no one is ever lonely. Even boredom is rare.

Most of my 18 daughters have complied basically with this, somehow realizing and recognizing, or at least comprehending what I was telling them as I gave them my reasons for not dating until older.

I’m just as tough on my sons, they’re harder to corral plus their hormones are way wackier. The few kids of mine who bucked me on this eventually wished they hadn’t done so as icky consequences, broken hearts, and even an arrest for sneaking out of my house and into another house to meet someone illicitly have resulted.

This doesn’t make me a popular mom, it’d be easier to just let them run wild, but in the long run, with as many children as I have, I’m pleased overall at the number of mistakes we’ve likely avoided.

One daughter even told me it was easier on her this way, using me as the heavy, “my mom won’t let me,” as her stock reply, taking the burden of excuses off of her. Easier to say it’s my mom who is so uncool.

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