I was three hours away from home, enjoying a rustic retreat in the Santa Cruz mountains with friends, when I received a text from my 16-year-old daughter, Lily. “I think I’m going to that party tonight,” she wrote. “And if I do, I might drink.”
Panic surged through me. My husband was out for the evening, leaving me unable to ask him to keep Lily confined to her room. We had discussed the party and the alcohol that would be present about a week prior to my trip, but I had conveniently pushed it from my mind until that moment.
Teenagers often experiment with drinking, and most make it through relatively unscathed. But from the moment I found out I was pregnant with Lily, I committed to doing everything I could to steer her clear of alcohol. Ideally, I hoped it would be forever, but if not, I thought 21 would be a decent target. At least by then, her brain would be better developed and—hopefully—her impulse control would improve.
You might think I’m an overprotective parent, and you’d be right. My concern for Lily’s drinking stems from my own background; both my husband and I are recovering alcoholics. Despite being sober for years, alcoholism lurks in our family history. The fear that my child might inherit this predisposition delayed my decision to become a mother until almost too late. While I was thrilled to welcome Lily into the world, I couldn’t shake the worry that she might inherit our tendencies toward alcohol abuse.
I had my first drink at 13—it was more like my first blackout. Alcohol quickly became my escape from debilitating anxiety. By the time I reached Lily’s age, drinking until unconscious was a weekly habit. I woke up confused and ashamed in various places, while my friends moved on to college, careers, and families, and I ended up with a series of DUIs and unsatisfying jobs.
For a long time, I thought the best way to prevent Lily from following my path was to scare her away from drinking. My tactics seemed to work when she was younger; she listened and promised she wouldn’t touch alcohol. Then high school hit. When curiosity about drinking surfaced among her friends, Lily regurgitated my “alcohol is evil” message, and they dropped her. Eventually, she found new friends in her drama program. I applauded her for choosing not to drink at parties, but she grew frustrated with feeling different.
One evening, as she prepared to go out, I unleashed my usual warnings. But Lily snapped back. “I’ve only said I don’t want to drink because of you! I’m not you. I might want to drink occasionally when everyone else is.” She pointed out that she could have been drinking behind my back, like some of her peers. And I knew she was right.
While Lily has her flaws, dishonesty is not one of them. Our relationship has always been close, and we talk openly about everything—drinking, dating, school, and more. I realized I was fortunate to maintain that connection, especially as she entered an age where kids often pull away from their parents.
As much as I wish teen drinking didn’t exist, it does. I didn’t want to alienate Lily with my rigid views. I needed to let her be herself. Perhaps allowing her the space to make her own choices with alcohol, while terrifying, would be healthier for both of us.
Back in the mountains, I replied to her text: “I’d prefer if you didn’t drink at all, but I’m glad you told me. Call me.”
Despite the poor reception, we outlined a plan for the night. I set a strict curfew and specified that she could only ride home with her friend’s dad. I advised her to pace herself, stick to one drink, and skip any shots or sips from random bottles. Before we hung up, I told her I’d check in via text, and I expected prompt replies.
Eventually, she texted me first. “I think I’m tipsy.”
I took a deep breath, reminding myself that Lily isn’t me. “How does it feel?” I asked back.
“Kind of good, I guess. Not that exciting, really.”
The tightness in my neck eased.
A year has passed since that night. While Lily doesn’t attend many parties, when she does, she decides beforehand whether she’ll drink. She’s learned she’s sensitive to alcohol—a few sips and she feels lightheaded. Unlike me at her age, that’s enough for her. She often chooses to abstain from drinking. She’s never been drunk, always comes home on time, and hasn’t gotten into a car with someone who’s been drinking.
We’re aware that this could change in the future. College and young adulthood are looming, complete with opportunities for binge drinking. That thought terrifies me. But if alcohol ever becomes a problem for her, she knows she can come to me for help.
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In summary, parenting a teenager involves navigating tough conversations about drinking and making space for them to make their own choices. Open communication is key, as is understanding that each child’s path is unique.