Survival Tips for Parents of Teens...

The world has skads of magazines and blogs and tips on how to manage toddlers and babies, but teenagers...all you get is to learn all you should have done and all you didn't.  I know why there isn't a book or magazine devoted to parenting teenagers.  Too much knowledge not born of personal experience might doom the human race as we know it.

However, for those intrepid souls who must either face this pending reality, or who already know the doom I speak of, read on and learn Seven Survival Tips for dealing with people aged 11-19.  You've been warned.   

7)  When you had babies and toddlers, you used a baby monitor.  You supervised your kiddo's every moment, waking and otherwise.  The kid didn't object.  The kid didn't know. Truthfully, it's not a bad plan now either.  Twitter stalking and lurking at istagram, and eliminating the internet when you want to sleep, seems to me a wise strategy.   The kid would object.  The kid doesn't know. 

6) When your kids became kids, your life revolved around meal time.  What you didn't know was, when your kids became teens, meal time became all of life.   Whatever you make, it's not enough, except when you cook everything.  Then the kids tell you, "I'm not hungry."  (Note: do not take this personally. The food will disappear in seventeen seconds instead of four, but they'll still tell you, you made too much and they weren't hungry the whole time).  When they finish, they'll say, "Is there anything left to eat?" 

5) As Mom of toddlers, you'd have paid good money to guarantee nap time.  As a Mom of teens, you'd pay good money to see your offspring awake during daylight hours. 

4) Toilet training is hard.  You cannot convince them, you can only wait them out. It's a dicy thing the first time you take them out in the world without a diaper bag. Driving lessons are hard.  Convincing yourself to steel up and let them take the wheel?  That's nerve wracking. 

3) When they were little, you planned play dates.  You knew their moms, their dads, their siblings, their dogs, everything.  Now...since a lot of teens play it close to the vest, get ready to be the go to chaperone.  You can look responsible, respectible and drive them crazy at the same time.  Bonus points if Mom and Dad go as a couple to the dance...double bonus if you dance.  Mortification city...

2) Nothing you experienced as a teenager or college student or as a young adult counts and teens don't actually want to know you were ever anything but Mom and Dad.   Your job is to listen, provide a shoulder and a milk shake when necessary.  Some day they'll want to know you had a past.  Just not now. 

1) They make your heart melt when they say, "I love you." when they're toddlers.  they make your heart swoon when you get it and they're older. 

Good luck. 

The Joker in All But Costume

My oldest son at home does not care to dress up at Halloween. He eshews candy as "unhealthy" and has for the past four years, contented himself with passing out the goodies to whatever trick-or-treaters show up at our home.

Yet I've always thought perhaps it was a cover to allow him to cherry pick the offerings, both before Halloween got underway, and after we returned and everyone went to bed.  I couldn't prove it, thought I would find candy wrappers in his room.  He'd complain his siblings came in to wake him up.  Yes. I know, I didn't believe it either.

Still, I couldn't prove it, and I never really tried.

Today, after we'd been out going door to door, once all were tucked in bed, we found our teenager going upstairs carrying the cauldron filled with candy.  "Why are you taking that upstairs?"
"So they won't eat it. They'll eat too much candy. It's not healthy."

But no one is reaching for this candy. No one is asking for it. Each of them came home, had their stashes inspected, sorted, they traded and each ate three pieces, they brushed their teeth and everyone's fine.  Why does this need to go upstairs?

"So no one will sneak candy. You know I won't. I don't like it." He put his hand in and took out a Starburst.   "Right."
"It's just this one candy."  He had the grace to grin.  

****
Working Title: I Know Where He Gets It

Later, we talked about upcoming races. I mentioned I might bring everyone to see his next run.
"My race is Tuesday."
"I know for a fact, your run is on Thursday. It's not like we're going to hold up signs that say "Yay Peter!" and "Run Peter Run!"
"It's Wednesday."
"Maybe I will bring signs. Oh! We can dress up like we do for Halloween."
"MOM!"
"I'll dress up too."
"I'm not running. The Coach said I should sit this one out."
****

ConText messages...

"Hey Mom.  I need running food."
Me:  "Like?"
"Quinoa, chocolate milk, mangos, banannas, smuckers uncrustables and protien shakes."
"Okay."
"And spinach, and eggs and navel oranges and protien oatmeal."
"Anything else?"
"Some beets, pomegranite juice, salad mixes (Caesar only), and cliff bars."
"Is that all?"
"No.  Water, good pasta (tortellini), meatballs, and sauce, string cheese and mabye Cantelope?"
"When is the race?" (Today is Monday).
"Tuesday."
"You won't need all of this for tomorrow."
"I'll do the dishes and fold the laundry."
"Will you make the bus in the morning?"
...
"Will you make the bus in the morning?"
...
"Hello?"
"Just get me some banannas and cliff bars."

The Universe, My Teen and Me

At some point after kids turn 13, they stop trusting your experience as having weight, until you turn the table on them and ask an adult question.

"So, what do you want to do after high school?" is a question that generally elicits one of two responses.  

Response 1:  Stare at one's sneakers until the question goes away.
Response 2:  Do anything else other than answer.

When I asked my son, "Can you name five careers you could imagine yourself possibly doing, things that you think would be cool to do?"   He nearly bore a hole in the floor from his intense stare at his shoes.

Not wanting to have silence as an answer, (since a career as a mime seems to have limited upward income potential) I opted for a subtle approach.

"Hey son?  Can you read Anna a bedtime story?"
"Sure."
"Maybe You Can Be a Vet, Maybe You Can Fly a Jet" might be one of the lamer Dr. Seus titles out there, but it did at least get the hint across, I wasn't going to let this go.

The next morning he cooked himself an omelette.  "You could be a chef." I said.
He left the room.

That afternoon, he fixed his bike.  "Mechanic?" He took off on his bike.

He brought me papers to sign.  "Lawyer?" I wasn't giving up.

I played games with the younger ones, having them talk about Halloween Costumes if they could only choose from careers.  JUDGE!  FIREMAN! POLICEWOMAN! SINGER! ACTOR! TEACHER! NURSE! ARTIST! We kept going around, as many of my kiddos wanted to have two, maybe three careers over the course of their lives.

He ran up the stairs holding his ears.

Surrendering didn't seem prudent, and yet I couldn't think of another way to approach the question and get an actual response.  My son gave a scream of irritation from his room. I ran upstairs.  "What's wrong?" I asked.

"The UNIVERSE Mom."  He led out a sheet of paper.  I looked at it blankly. It gave the schedule for Spirit Week.  "LOOK AT THURSDAY!" he shouted.

Career Day.   I couldn't help grinning.  Guess I'll find out at the end of the week.

I'm #61!

I'm listed in the 100 Best Humor Blogs by Healthy Mom Magazine! 

Now I feel obliged to think of something funny to say but my first response to any award is to somehow channel Goofy.  All I can think is "Gawsh.  Thanks."

I have today had an insight about raising teenagers.

Everything is urgent, but ninety percent of it is unnecessary.   Next week, I reenter the work world.  This week, my children have done their level best to illustrate to me how the entire universe shall come to a screeching halt sabotaging their academic, social, athletic, artistic and future careers by my not being the equivalent of Alfred to their Bruce Wayne personas.  

They asked for milk shakes.
They asked for the opportunity to go shopping over the weekend.
They asked for care packages if they weren't at home. 

"I need my uniform."
I text back, by when?
I get no answer.   Which means, get it there now.

"Can you pick me up?"
It's not really a request.

Teens expect the answer will be yes.

The thing is, that's a good thing.  It means they're still expecting Mom to be Mom.   So I did drop off the uniform on time and mail care packages and plan a shopping trip and pick the other one up and I did get them milk shakes because it was hot and it's my last day of summer as a Mom until next summer and I won't be able to be this indulgent with my time come next week.  

Suddenly, all that unnecessary urgency seems like it was time very well spent.   

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