Tekila Leatherberry has pinned her life down to the minute - juggling a summer job, planning for college, getting engaged and raising a 7-month-old.

But her clockwork approach isn't working on a recent Friday morning.

"Where is he?" she asks, pacing her porch.

It's almost 7:30 a.m., and Leatherberry's fiance, Andre Skelton, is late coming home from work. If he's late to care for their son, Andre Jr., then Leatherberry won't make it to her job on time.

"He's never late," she says. "It's down to a science - 7:20."

Leatherberry, 19, and Skelton, 21, are young, but building a family life. Neither has a college degree and, while they are devoted to raising Andre, both admit they have some growing up of their own to do. They fight like an old married couple and flirt like teenagers.

But the problems they face are very adult - conflicting work schedules, bills, finding a new apartment, and still trying to maintain some of the adventure and romance of youth in the midst of such overwhelming responsibilities.

They also are fighting a daunting statistic: More than 75 percent of teenage mothers turn to welfare within five years of having their first child, according to March of Dimes.

Making the family work

Morning is a crucial time.

While Leatherberry gets ready for her job as a camp coach at Wildwood Recreation Center, Skelton is on his way home from a night shift monitoring credit card fraud. Leatherberry usually walks to work from the peach house on 25 Street and 14th Avenue South that they share with four other roommates. But on this day she will borrow her rommate's car.

Leatherberry and Skelton share their own car, but it needs repairs. Leatherberry had hoped to be at work by 7:30 a.m. to make up time she lost because she slept in the day before. It didn't look promising.

Finally, a black Nissan pulled in front of the house and Skelton hopped out of the passenger seat.

"You're late!" she scolded, walking over to him. They whisper to each other, then she kicks her leg toward him playfully.

With opposite schedules, there are few times they can be together. Most of that time comes in the evening, when Leatherberry gets home from the recreation center, where she is paid $9.38 an hour to watch 7- and 8-year-olds in the summer play camp. Skelton leaves for work at 10 p.m.

In between they clean the bedroom and eat dinner; feed, change and bathe the baby; and wash clothes and buy groceries.

In spite of all the demands, their delight in baby Andre is clear.

Relaxing in a chair in front of the computer in the couple's bedroom, Leatherberry spots movement in the crib along the wall.

"Hi, Pumpkin!" Leatherberry squeals. "Come here! Come here!"

Andre sits up from his nap and smiles, revealing the dimples on his cheeks.

"Goofy!" Leatherberry laughs. "You're gonna be as long as that crib in a couple months!"

Skelton lounges on the bed, an Xbox controller in his hand, watching a game play out on the TV that sits on the dresser. He has at least 70 video games stacked beside the TV.

"Dre," Leatherberry calls to her fiance. "Where'd you put his toys?"

"Away," he says, staring at the screen.

At times, the couple goes back and forth between parenting and acting like kids. After watching Andre for hours, Skelton says the games relax him. Andre is waking up for the day just as Skelton gets off work, which makes cat naps the most sleep he can catch.

"I survive off of caffeine and energy drinks," he says.

But the night job at Fidelity National Informational Services pays $25,000 a year.

The couple's combined incomes are enough to keep them off government assistance, except for Medicaid, which covers Leatherberry and the baby's healthcare. Skelton says he is covered by his parent's health insurance.

By sharing the five-bedroom house with four other people, they keep their rent to $320 a month. Their total average monthly spending amounts to a little more than $1,000, leaving about $700 a month.

Skelton says he makes sure his bills don't exceed 60 percent of his paycheck, but Leatherberry is more carefree with money.

"There's been a lot of unplanned things that have come up, and we've been spending more than what we've liked to," he says. "But we're still within our means."

Not that those means allow much luxury, Leatherberry says. Their only private space is the small bedroom, where the baby also sleeps. They share a bathroom with another roommate. They shop for basics at Wal-Mart, although Skelton occasionally indulges his taste for more expensive clothes and Leatherberry treats herself to shopping with friends at Tyrone Square Mall.

They want to move into an apartment of their own by the end of the year, so expenses may increase. A wedding is planned for next summer.

So Leatherberry has her goals set: a job as a high school teaching assistant once summer ends, evening classes at St. Petersburg College for business administration starting in August and a career in real estate within three years.

"I don't want to have to live check to check," she says. "We're just now getting the chance to save up."

Skelton has already begun college. After receiving a Florida Bright Futures scholarship - a lottery-funded award for high school academic achievement - he spent two years at the University of Central Florida before transferring to the University of Southern Florida.

For the past two semesters, Skelton has put his electrical engineering major on hold to care for the baby. He hopes to start classes again this fall online, while continuing to work full time at night so he can watch Andre Jr. during the day.

The schedules will take away what little evening time the young couple has together, but Leatherberry doesn't want the baby in daycare until he's older.

Breaking the trend

Leatherberry's 30-year-old sister knows from experience how hard it will be. She had the first of her two babies at 19 and says that, despite her dreams, it was difficult to concentrate on a career.

"I just feel like you kinda lose focus," Letanya Harris says. "It's one thing to say, 'I got a baby and I got a man and I wanna go to school.' But it's another thing to have those bills coming in every month."

Leatherberry and Harris each left home at 17, wanting to escape what they said was a culture of drugs and violence.

"We just couldn't tolerate the situation at home," Harris says.

A high school diploma already puts Leatherberry ahead of many teens from a troubled background, says Sally Zeh, executive director of the PACE Center for Girls. Abusive childhoods boost the risk of young girls dropping out of high school and getting pregnant early.

But Harris says she worries her sister is sliding into the same pattern she did.

After losing a scholarship from Alcorn State University in Mississippi because she got pregnant, Harris dropped out of school. She went back to the University of South Mississippi three years later, but got pregnant again and never finished her degree.

Now, Harris is a customer service representative. She wanted to work in the fashion industry.

"We tend to attach onto men and have kids and not accomplish what we really want," she says.

Although she would have liked her younger sister to go to college and start a career before she became a mother, Harris is proud of her.

"She's a really good mom," she says. "I mean, she takes really good care of him for her age."

Growing up

But being a parent doesn't stop Leatherberry from acting like a teenager.

On the basketball court outside the recreation center last week, Leatherberry scans a crinkled schedule of the day's activities. She toys with the antenna of her cell phone.

"Ya'll got about 10 minutes!" she announces to the kids dribbling balls and shooting hoops.

Leatherberry and Tim Burklin, a high school volunteer at the center, monitor the group from off the court, in the shade. She rubs her eyes.

"You got a CD with you?" Burklin asks.

"I forgot it," Leatherberry says. "I brought my MP3 player, but I forgot the hookup, so we can't use that either."

Leatherberry slouches next to a pole, weary from the heat.

After a few minutes, she stands and blows a whistle hanging from her neck.

"Come on guys, line up!" she shouts.

Burklin says Leatherberry has a way with the kids. Part of the reason, he says, is because she's still a kid herself.

Leatherberry says she's used to being the baby - the baby of four siblings, the youngest of her roommates - and sometimes it shows.

"She's a little brat!" Skelton says, smirking.

On a Saturday afternoon, Leatherberry is sprawled on the living room couch next to Andre Jr., who sleeps under a blanket. She watches music videos flash from a television propped on a crate.

Skelton lounges in a chair across the room, instant messaging on his laptop and teasing his fiancee.

"If she doesn't get her way, she whines, pouts and cries," he says.

Leatherberry shakes her head, stifling her smile.

Then Skelton pretends to get serious.

"Tekila, there's something I've been needing to talk to you about. You know how some clothes are like, dry clean only?"

Leatherberry bursts out laughing, remembering the shirt she shrunk in the wash.

"I'm sorry, baby!" she says. "I didn't read it! I'll buy you another one, I swear!"

Skelton forgives her. This life will take some getting used to. They're not kids anymore.

Interested in more? Click here to see the related multimedia project, " Learning to be a mother."

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