I have learned a lot during my journey as a mother. I got a crash-course in parenting when Morgan became a teenager. Oh.My. She was a tricky one, but for the most part was way more saintly than me in my teenage years. She was still abducted by aliens and replaced by a sarcastic, "it's not my fault!" procrastinating clone. They brought her back, eventually. Damn aliens.
There is one thing that sticks out when I reflect back on her early teens: giving her keys to a car changed her personality.
I don't know when this tendency starts in parenting, but I am guilty of it. The tendency to assume one child is going to follow in the other's footsteps exactly. Particularly where there is a sense of freedom involved.
I have written before about my mom's strategy by the time I hit my eye-rollin', talkin'-back, rebellious phase. Her strategy didn't work. At all. So my approach with my two teens has been different. They have my trust until they give me a reason not to trust them. I at least give them the opportunity to meet my reasonable expectations. In general, it has worked out. There are mistakes made, by them and by me, but we all learn from them.
So, Chucker got his license about a month ago, and after a cluster of car issues, he now has some wheels. And I have been assuming the worst of him ever since. Strictly based on my experience with his sister. John is equally as guilty. I cannot tell you how many times he has let "You just got Morganed" fall out of his mouth in the last couple of weeks. That's right, Morgan's legacy is such that she has become a verb in our household. When there is manipulation of people, time, money, "well, see what had happened was", etc. that's when you've been "Morganed".
My mother assumed that I would do everything that my older two siblings tried as teenagers. I get it. We recognize our shortcomings as parents and we learn from them. And that's fine, but my experience with "cookie-cutter" parenting has never been positive. Don't get me wrong, I believe there are some developmental phases which few humans can escape. There are going to be similarities in certain aspects, but what works for one isn't necessarily going to work for another. Just because Morgan was a logistical nightmare doesn't necessarily mean that Chucker's fate has already been written in that area. Matter of fact, his pendulum swings in the opposite direction. He's punctual to a fault. Morgan hasn't seen punctual in almost a decade. Maybe ever. I dunno.
Maybe I'm giving us (parents) a bad rap here. Maybe it's human nature. John had zero experience as a parent when we got married. He automatically assumed the worst of Beba because of his teenage experience. Mind you when he was 16 Reagan was president, gas was 89 cents a gallon, and Teddy Ruxpin was the best-selling toy. Yet somehow Morgan was supposed to be held to the same standards he was charged with living up to. As I type this, I can see how senseless that sounds. In the moment, though, all of that escapes me as my anxiety level increases exponentially knowing that I am getting "Morganed" by either of my churen.
Becoming aware of this tendency has given me pause to stop and breathe. Both of my teenagers are good kids. They're different as night and day, though. So for now I'm strappin' myself in for this roller coaster ride that is gonna be Chucker with a car. That's inevitable. He's a teenager with a sense of freedom and independence. Whether it's the "Afterburn" or the "Kiddie Coaster" is yet to be determined.
Have I mentioned how much I love roller coasters?
Showing posts with label teenagers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teenagers. Show all posts
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Letting Go
As a teenager, I remember desperately seeking two things: freedom and the trust of my parents (specifically my mother). Would I have honored that trust? Maybe. Okay, probably not. But I would have appreciated the opportunity.
My folks have five children. By the time I reached my adolescence, they'd been through this three times already. Scratch that, two times already. We are nominating my eldest sister for sainthood, as she never did anything wrong. But apparently my other two older siblings made up for her angelic teenhood. When my turn came, Mom's proverbial hold was tighter 'n Grandma's girdle. It didn't work (love you, Mom!). This would be when my tendency to rebel began. The tighter her grip, the more I was determined to do exactly what I wanted. I still have quite a rebellious streak and I'm almost thirty-five.
Recalling this all too well, I have changed my approach with Beba. Now, she's not me (thank God), and to date, she's been a typical teen. She's not exactly a saint, but she's not a hellion either. She is well-prepared for adulthood. She can cook, do her laundry, manage her checkbook, is employable and has proven her leadership skills in school and beyond. There's one life skill that still eludes her and consequently drives me insane: time management. Whew! In general, the clock revolves around her, not the other way around. She has her own time zone. PDT: Princess Diva Time. Everything I have done to help her learn this essential key to life has not helped. Revoking privileges hasn't worked: the car, the phone, her time. It's gotten worse. I refuse to micromanage her every move. She's almost eighteen. She's going to have to learn this one the hard way.
A very wise person once told me that as a mother, my job is to give my children two things: roots and wings. So, I have loosened the reins. She has a social outing and a commitment early the next morning? She decides if she goes, how long to stay and when to be up to meet her obligations. Errands to run before work? She decides how to prioritize and manage them so she can get to work on time. As I type this, she is snoozing away and is 'posed to be at practice (have fun runnin' all those laps, dearheart). She decides. And she faces the consequences of her decisions. Like a big girl.
My refusal to attempt to control her makes my mother vibrate out of her skin. And my husband. Some of my girlfriends, too. I doubt this strategy is in any of the numerous parenting books available, and I'm not exactly holding my breath for a "Mother of the Year" nomination. But the way I see it, better for her to learn this now, even if she has to trip and fall. I'd rather her fall now, while I am still here to pick her up, dust her off, and lovingly reinforce the life lessons that cause her to stumble. Before too long, I'm not going to be there to catch her . . . .
I have spent a lot of time and energy preparing her for her adulthood. Notsomuch me. I have a girlfriend whose sweet-n-precious is leaving for college soon, and I am taking notes (I'm watchin' you, Shercee). Next year this time, we will be dropping Morgan off at college. If I fall off the face of the planet, please come by to check on me. You'll be able to find me in a corner in the fetal position, rocking. Just remind me to be a big girl.
My folks have five children. By the time I reached my adolescence, they'd been through this three times already. Scratch that, two times already. We are nominating my eldest sister for sainthood, as she never did anything wrong. But apparently my other two older siblings made up for her angelic teenhood. When my turn came, Mom's proverbial hold was tighter 'n Grandma's girdle. It didn't work (love you, Mom!). This would be when my tendency to rebel began. The tighter her grip, the more I was determined to do exactly what I wanted. I still have quite a rebellious streak and I'm almost thirty-five.
Recalling this all too well, I have changed my approach with Beba. Now, she's not me (thank God), and to date, she's been a typical teen. She's not exactly a saint, but she's not a hellion either. She is well-prepared for adulthood. She can cook, do her laundry, manage her checkbook, is employable and has proven her leadership skills in school and beyond. There's one life skill that still eludes her and consequently drives me insane: time management. Whew! In general, the clock revolves around her, not the other way around. She has her own time zone. PDT: Princess Diva Time. Everything I have done to help her learn this essential key to life has not helped. Revoking privileges hasn't worked: the car, the phone, her time. It's gotten worse. I refuse to micromanage her every move. She's almost eighteen. She's going to have to learn this one the hard way.
A very wise person once told me that as a mother, my job is to give my children two things: roots and wings. So, I have loosened the reins. She has a social outing and a commitment early the next morning? She decides if she goes, how long to stay and when to be up to meet her obligations. Errands to run before work? She decides how to prioritize and manage them so she can get to work on time. As I type this, she is snoozing away and is 'posed to be at practice (have fun runnin' all those laps, dearheart). She decides. And she faces the consequences of her decisions. Like a big girl.
My refusal to attempt to control her makes my mother vibrate out of her skin. And my husband. Some of my girlfriends, too. I doubt this strategy is in any of the numerous parenting books available, and I'm not exactly holding my breath for a "Mother of the Year" nomination. But the way I see it, better for her to learn this now, even if she has to trip and fall. I'd rather her fall now, while I am still here to pick her up, dust her off, and lovingly reinforce the life lessons that cause her to stumble. Before too long, I'm not going to be there to catch her . . . .
I have spent a lot of time and energy preparing her for her adulthood. Notsomuch me. I have a girlfriend whose sweet-n-precious is leaving for college soon, and I am taking notes (I'm watchin' you, Shercee). Next year this time, we will be dropping Morgan off at college. If I fall off the face of the planet, please come by to check on me. You'll be able to find me in a corner in the fetal position, rocking. Just remind me to be a big girl.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Lessons
My hubby just informed me that I need a sitter for Sunday night for about two hours. Our anniversary is Sunday and apparently, we're going out. With it upon us, I started thinking about things I've learned over the last year.
1. Twisting an ankle and falling in the Seattle airport is not a great way to start your honeymoon. Subsequently sobbing through the lifeboat drill as you're about to embark on your fabulous Alaskan cruise ain't so peachy either. (Loudly sobbing. You would have thought someone just died). For the rest of our voyage I would inevitably hear someone say, "Wasn't that the girl . . . . " as I passed them. Not to mention this little episode caused my husband to seriously reconsider his life choices.
2. Being on the opposite seaboard from my children for a week is not an option. Next time, they'll have to come with. By day three I was constantly pointing out things they would love about what we were doing and getting ultra-paranoid about "what if something happens".
3. I come from a remarkable family. My husband's is pretty fantastic as well. I am amazed at how much moral support we received and continue to get from both. My girlfriends rock too.
4. My parents are getting too old to be trusted to go to the doctor by themselves. Clusterf*#k if I ever did see one.
5. Raising teenagers is not for the faint of heart. Whew! I have been thrilled and contemplated boarding school within hours of one another. The good news is, neither Morgan or Chuck are as bad as I was. I can do an entire post on this statement alone. Ohmygoodness . . . .
6. Babies come when they are good and damn ready. Walking, Texas Pete, sex, and all of that other crap did not work for me. I tried all of them. Several times. He wasn't budging.
7. My eleven-pound Pekingese can put any doula or midwife to shame. She was by my side at every moment, eager to please. Although she has yet to forgive me for bringing "the thing" home with me six months ago.
8. I am old. My body, emotions, nor mental state is what they were when I had my first two children. I was ill-prepared for the roller coaster that is childbirth and the postpartum period. Bat. Shit. Crazy. Apparently, pregnancy hormones morph me in to a scathing bitch. I'm still workin' on my excuse for that currently, as I can no longer blame my body chemistry. Dammitall.
9. The incoherent babble that comes out of my mouth when communicating with babies or animals is inexplicable. If someone overheard my "conversations" with Riley, they would think I was an escaped mental patient. I call my son "Skinky", who the hell comes up with stuff like that?
10. Too much of my identity is wrapped up in my career. I miss certain aspects of my job terribly. Being unemployed is something I am still having to become accustomed to, and it's been well over a year.
11. Every time I think we are well on our way to getting ahead or having a little nest egg squirreled away, something inevitably happens. Our savings account balance being above a certain amount is a sure-fire way to invite disaster of some sort.
12. Giving a teenager a driver's license and some keys to a car changes their personality. True story.
13. I did not marry the only brainless man on the planet (sorry, honey). They are all effin' clueless about certain things. The things I think he "should know" because they are BLATANTLY OBVIOUS often require pen and paper for me to spell them out for him. Turns out "penis" and "forethought" don't exactly go together. Sheesh. But . . . .
14. My husband is teachable and has come a looooong way in the last six months. Just this morning he decided to work from home today so I could sleep late (Riley is discovering new and exciting things that just have to be done at 2 a.m.). Uh-huh. A long way. Housework? Yup, he does that. Errands, groceries, you name it. All without me having to break out the notebook and Sharpie. Yippee!
15. Babies have the ability to turn the most reserved people in to babbling idiots . . . it's amazing to watch.
16. Having an MBA does not guarantee one a lucrative job in this economy. I really thought I was going to have to be institutionalized during John's job search last Fall.
17. Asking one's spouse to join you at a family function at the 'rents' while the Reds are fighting to clench the title in their division is not going to get a favorable response. Ever.
18. Motherhood is by far the most challenging and yet the most emotionally fulfilling job I have ever had. It's also the most thankless . . .
19. When caring for an infant, "me-time" isn't optional, it's mandatory. For real.
20. My sister and I excel at bein' band whores and throw kick-ass house concerts. Just sayin'.
21. Do not make statements such as "I'll never (insert sanctimonious statement here)". I think about that every time I get in to our minivan that we swore we would never own. (I LOVE that van. LOVE IT!).
22. True friends are hard to come by, so cherish them. You know, the I've-got-your-back-no-matter-what friends? The others seem to scatter to the four winds when the goin' gets tough.
23. Fatherhood makes my husband more attractive. I can't really explain this one, as it defies logic.
24. As much as we have been through in the last year, the wedding, job searches, teenage drama, pregnancy, childbirth, etc. I still could not imagine my life without John.
Here's to many more life lessons . . . . as long as we can learn them together, I think we'll be just fine.
1. Twisting an ankle and falling in the Seattle airport is not a great way to start your honeymoon. Subsequently sobbing through the lifeboat drill as you're about to embark on your fabulous Alaskan cruise ain't so peachy either. (Loudly sobbing. You would have thought someone just died). For the rest of our voyage I would inevitably hear someone say, "Wasn't that the girl . . . . " as I passed them. Not to mention this little episode caused my husband to seriously reconsider his life choices.
2. Being on the opposite seaboard from my children for a week is not an option. Next time, they'll have to come with. By day three I was constantly pointing out things they would love about what we were doing and getting ultra-paranoid about "what if something happens".
3. I come from a remarkable family. My husband's is pretty fantastic as well. I am amazed at how much moral support we received and continue to get from both. My girlfriends rock too.
4. My parents are getting too old to be trusted to go to the doctor by themselves. Clusterf*#k if I ever did see one.
5. Raising teenagers is not for the faint of heart. Whew! I have been thrilled and contemplated boarding school within hours of one another. The good news is, neither Morgan or Chuck are as bad as I was. I can do an entire post on this statement alone. Ohmygoodness . . . .
6. Babies come when they are good and damn ready. Walking, Texas Pete, sex, and all of that other crap did not work for me. I tried all of them. Several times. He wasn't budging.
7. My eleven-pound Pekingese can put any doula or midwife to shame. She was by my side at every moment, eager to please. Although she has yet to forgive me for bringing "the thing" home with me six months ago.
8. I am old. My body, emotions, nor mental state is what they were when I had my first two children. I was ill-prepared for the roller coaster that is childbirth and the postpartum period. Bat. Shit. Crazy. Apparently, pregnancy hormones morph me in to a scathing bitch. I'm still workin' on my excuse for that currently, as I can no longer blame my body chemistry. Dammitall.
9. The incoherent babble that comes out of my mouth when communicating with babies or animals is inexplicable. If someone overheard my "conversations" with Riley, they would think I was an escaped mental patient. I call my son "Skinky", who the hell comes up with stuff like that?
10. Too much of my identity is wrapped up in my career. I miss certain aspects of my job terribly. Being unemployed is something I am still having to become accustomed to, and it's been well over a year.
11. Every time I think we are well on our way to getting ahead or having a little nest egg squirreled away, something inevitably happens. Our savings account balance being above a certain amount is a sure-fire way to invite disaster of some sort.
12. Giving a teenager a driver's license and some keys to a car changes their personality. True story.
13. I did not marry the only brainless man on the planet (sorry, honey). They are all effin' clueless about certain things. The things I think he "should know" because they are BLATANTLY OBVIOUS often require pen and paper for me to spell them out for him. Turns out "penis" and "forethought" don't exactly go together. Sheesh. But . . . .
14. My husband is teachable and has come a looooong way in the last six months. Just this morning he decided to work from home today so I could sleep late (Riley is discovering new and exciting things that just have to be done at 2 a.m.). Uh-huh. A long way. Housework? Yup, he does that. Errands, groceries, you name it. All without me having to break out the notebook and Sharpie. Yippee!
15. Babies have the ability to turn the most reserved people in to babbling idiots . . . it's amazing to watch.
16. Having an MBA does not guarantee one a lucrative job in this economy. I really thought I was going to have to be institutionalized during John's job search last Fall.
17. Asking one's spouse to join you at a family function at the 'rents' while the Reds are fighting to clench the title in their division is not going to get a favorable response. Ever.
18. Motherhood is by far the most challenging and yet the most emotionally fulfilling job I have ever had. It's also the most thankless . . .
19. When caring for an infant, "me-time" isn't optional, it's mandatory. For real.
20. My sister and I excel at bein' band whores and throw kick-ass house concerts. Just sayin'.
21. Do not make statements such as "I'll never (insert sanctimonious statement here)". I think about that every time I get in to our minivan that we swore we would never own. (I LOVE that van. LOVE IT!).
22. True friends are hard to come by, so cherish them. You know, the I've-got-your-back-no-matter-what friends? The others seem to scatter to the four winds when the goin' gets tough.
23. Fatherhood makes my husband more attractive. I can't really explain this one, as it defies logic.
24. As much as we have been through in the last year, the wedding, job searches, teenage drama, pregnancy, childbirth, etc. I still could not imagine my life without John.
Here's to many more life lessons . . . . as long as we can learn them together, I think we'll be just fine.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Beba*
I remember fondly the day my daughter was born. It was the first time I ever experienced love at first sight. She was perfect . . . . in every way.
She slept through the night at two weeks of age. She had the sweetest disposition I have ever known. She was just so . . . . easy. I was shocked at how naturally I bonded with her, how I instinctively knew exactly what to do and what she needed (I was seventeen). She did everything early: crawled, walked, talked. She was reading before she started kindergarten. It was apparent very early on that the world was her oyster. She could do anything she put her mind to . . . . and do it well. With an ease and grace that made me proud, oh so proud . . . and envious.
She matured quickly. She has always been wise beyond her years. A leader. A non-conformist. Wicked smart, funny, intuitive, with a grounded down-to-earth approach to everything she does. I have seen her intimidate grown men . . . . more than once. Yes, it's fun to watch, it's also challenging as hell to rear such a creature.
Aware of this, I have always been very intentional and purposeful in my dealings with her. She was raised to be independent: she could do her own laundry and cook a simple meal at ten years of age. She could stay at home alone at an age that most would consider neglectful. She was just always so responsible. We have always had an honest and candid relationship. I knew the first time she kissed a boy, when she started her period, when she was offered illicit substances, etc.. She knows my past, my mistakes, my regrets, and my accomplishments. We talk about everything.
The fact that she is so smart and does not "demand" anything has proven to be a challenge in her adolescence. Half the time I am stuck deciding whether to shake her or kiss her. Sadly, I don't instinctively know what she needs any more. I just know what I want for her, and luckily, it aligns with what she wants for herself. This young lady has the world at her feet and fails to recognize that what she has goin' on is nothing short of effin' magic. She has so many opportunities and so much potential. It thrills me and makes me want to strangle her at the same time. I often wonder if she sees what I see: that she is brilliant, gorgeous, talented, driven, and can literally be any thing she wants to be. She has accomplished more this school year than most people do in their high school careers. And she makes it seem effortless.
I do know this: when she crosses the threshold of this house, she will have been raised. She knows right from wrong. She knows that bad decisions come with bad consequences and vice versa. She knows that she can soar or plummet, it's her choice. And she knows that she will always have a place to call home--no matter what.
And I hope she knows and feels this: that she always has been and always will be my first true love.
*When Morgan was little she called her dolls "bebas" because she couldn't say "babies". I, in turn, started calling her "Beba" and it stuck. She will forever be known as "Beba" in my family.
She slept through the night at two weeks of age. She had the sweetest disposition I have ever known. She was just so . . . . easy. I was shocked at how naturally I bonded with her, how I instinctively knew exactly what to do and what she needed (I was seventeen). She did everything early: crawled, walked, talked. She was reading before she started kindergarten. It was apparent very early on that the world was her oyster. She could do anything she put her mind to . . . . and do it well. With an ease and grace that made me proud, oh so proud . . . and envious.
She matured quickly. She has always been wise beyond her years. A leader. A non-conformist. Wicked smart, funny, intuitive, with a grounded down-to-earth approach to everything she does. I have seen her intimidate grown men . . . . more than once. Yes, it's fun to watch, it's also challenging as hell to rear such a creature.
Aware of this, I have always been very intentional and purposeful in my dealings with her. She was raised to be independent: she could do her own laundry and cook a simple meal at ten years of age. She could stay at home alone at an age that most would consider neglectful. She was just always so responsible. We have always had an honest and candid relationship. I knew the first time she kissed a boy, when she started her period, when she was offered illicit substances, etc.. She knows my past, my mistakes, my regrets, and my accomplishments. We talk about everything.
The fact that she is so smart and does not "demand" anything has proven to be a challenge in her adolescence. Half the time I am stuck deciding whether to shake her or kiss her. Sadly, I don't instinctively know what she needs any more. I just know what I want for her, and luckily, it aligns with what she wants for herself. This young lady has the world at her feet and fails to recognize that what she has goin' on is nothing short of effin' magic. She has so many opportunities and so much potential. It thrills me and makes me want to strangle her at the same time. I often wonder if she sees what I see: that she is brilliant, gorgeous, talented, driven, and can literally be any thing she wants to be. She has accomplished more this school year than most people do in their high school careers. And she makes it seem effortless.
I do know this: when she crosses the threshold of this house, she will have been raised. She knows right from wrong. She knows that bad decisions come with bad consequences and vice versa. She knows that she can soar or plummet, it's her choice. And she knows that she will always have a place to call home--no matter what.
And I hope she knows and feels this: that she always has been and always will be my first true love.
*When Morgan was little she called her dolls "bebas" because she couldn't say "babies". I, in turn, started calling her "Beba" and it stuck. She will forever be known as "Beba" in my family.
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