I am the Mother of a Teenage Boy (the first step is admitting you have a problem)

I am the mother of a teenage son. I am not the first mother to have a teenage son, nor will I be the last. This, however, is my first and last teenage son, and I seem to have lost the instruction manual explaining how he works. Actually, come to think of it, the instruction manual was missing when I opened the package fourteen years ago. I've undoubtedly been improperly handling him since day one.

While my son, for the most part, is functioning without the usual teenage glitches at this point, certain normal behaviors and interests are coming to light. Like socializing. With girls. Though Ian had one particular girl "friend" back in elementary school, their time together was spent playing Pokemon and appropriately-rated video games. That was nice. That was safe. That took place with the lights on.

Now my son is having friends over to watch movies. And the friends include girls. And they watch movies in the dark. In their pajamas. Yes, you read that correctly; I'll get to that part.

Last night Ian asked if he could have friends over, a boy-girl mix. This is not the first time he's hosted or attended a mixed gender get-together and being the great mom that I am I said yes. Because he was trying to butter me up, he agreed to first clean the basement. Score one for mom. I followed that smooth move with another requirement: I had to approve the movie selection. Last time he and his buddies got together they watched (without permission) the R-rated and apparently incredibly stupid "Hot Tub Time Machine." Mature-rated video games where you kill people are one thing, but stupid guys checking out babes in a hot tub are quite another. Don't ask me about my logic. Anyway, they were going to watch "Teen Wolf." No, not the one with Michael J. Fox. It's a tv show. I gave it my stamp of approval.

As I prepared to head off to the gym, Ian told me I had to be home at 7:30 when everyone arrived. The girls' moms require an adult to be there. A good sign. Even better, it got me out of going to Body Pump class which ended at 7:30. Couldn't risk being late to the party.

At about 7:15, Ian announces that one of the young ladies has decided this evening should be a pajama party. With this update, mom loses the ability to speak. Abby chimes in, "Don't boys usually sleep in their underwear?" Ian appears in long flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt. Mom regains consciousness. Crisis averted. For now.

A bit later the young hussies ladies arrive. I was busy sticking my head in the sand with something else. I didn't see them come in and they didn't come looking for me to say hello. (Not that they ever have.) Instead, as usual, they head directly down to the basement. Mom is enjoying some "ignorance is bliss" time until Ian's friend Noah arrives and his mom Emily checks in. She wisely senses that I have yet to check out the scene in the basement. We venture downstairs together. Emily stands behind me so I'm the only embarrassing mom truly present. I take a quick look at what everyone's wearing. I ask if anyone's in a negligee. I'm not sure any of them know what a negligee is. One young lass is covered in a blanket. I should probably have asked her to remove the blanket so I could be sure she was fully clothed. For fear of mortally embarrassing my son, I chicken out say nothing. I curse myself, Rob, and the builders who made the basement too small to accomodate another couch. The "kids" are squished together like sardines. You can make babies sitting that close together, can't you?

I head upstairs to have Abby and her friend Maddie give me a pedicure. I'm swimming in denial when Maddie's mom shows up to take her home. I casually mention the lights out boy-girl party taking place downstairs and confess to not wanting to be the most embarrassing mom ever by asking for lights to be on. I make myself feel better by stating that the chances of hanky panky taking place while they're all there together is slim. Mo looks at me like I'm naive and insane. Mo and Maddie leave. Abby and I are alone with my discomfort. I ask Abby to spy on her brother for me. She is unsuccessful. I ask her to tell Ian I need to see him. He comes upstairs.

I explain my concerns. Something along the lines of:

"You're freaking me out with the dark room, squished together on the couch. Can we shed a little light on things?"

Ian looks at me with great disappointment. The look that says, "I can't believe you don't trust me." I explain my fear of pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases. Not really. Actually I say something nebulous like,

"I'd hate for someone to 'get in trouble' under my watch."

Ian tells me "we're all friends, mom." I exhale.

"So no one down there is romantically involved?"

"No, mom."

I feel better. I head upstairs.

I consider purchasing Ian a dozen new Xbox and computer games if he promises to never have, nor attend, a boy-girl party ever again. Or at least until he's 25.

I place a bulk order for sand in which to bury my head in for the next few years. Heaven help us.