Not So Terrible Teens

Last week was full of  chaos. I mean every week is, but this was more and it felt even harder because Tim and I were both sick. I mean siiiiiiiick. By Friday thankfully we felt better, shaky, but better. 

Tim left town with the little boys. He took Wade and JT on a bus with his high school basketball team to the other side of the state for a tournament. The boys were so excited. They loved hanging out with the older boys and have become the official water boys for the team.

They also loved the pool and the hot tub at the hotel.

Tim kept sending me text messages about how impressed he was with the kids from his high school. How they were looking out for JT and Wade, laughing with them, playing basketball with them, watching their language around them, making time for them and being so nice to them.  

Speaking of being surprised by teenager type people, back at home I was hanging with Lucy and Peyton and we were having a pretty good time. It wasn't total smooth sailing however. There were mood swings and misunderstandings and a few breath noises and eye rolls (from all of us). But there was also lots of pizza, movies that are so not appropriate for Wade and JT (like Pitch Perfect 2), talks about politics and social media and more.

Selfie with the tween and teen. Awwww. I think Peyton is saying I'm the number one parent. Right? Take that Tim. lol.

I miss when my kids were little. I LOVED those days. But here's the thing, teenagers can be fun and interesting and kind. Teens and tweens get a bad rap, much like two-year-olds get slapped with the whole "terrible" label. With both age groups there are so many exhausting worrisome "terrible" stuff, but there's also so much good. And when it's good, it's funny and heartwarming and awesome. 

I am going to come back and reread this post next week when I'm "so over" parenting older kids. It's hard to remember the good when it's all eye rolling and tough choices and never knowing if I'm  parenting the "right" way. Ahhhhhh. But I do want to reread this and remember and acknowledge and appreciate the good moments. And I want to create more opportunities for my teenagers to show their goodness, and for me to see it in others like Tim's basketball players being so kind to Wade and JT. 

Now go hug a teenager. Or if they push you away and look at you weird like Lucy did to me this morning when I tried to hug her, just maybe say something good about them. Put that positivity out in the universe. 

Death and Dancing

For Lucy's birthday, I bought her a beautiful notebook.  She has notebooks everywhere.  Stacks of notebooks are on her bed, on her desk and in her backpack.  They are filled with stories and lists and ideas and dreams. 

In her new rainbow-colored notebook she was busy making a new list.  

This is a quote from her new notebook/journal.

"What is this list about?," I asked while I was making dinner.

"My fears," she said.

She casually read the list to me.  A lot of her fears are my fears, "climate change" and "death" are on my list too.  But then she said "mom dancing and singing in public." 

"What?!," I screamed.  "Me dancing in public is on the same list as death?!"

She laughed, shut her notebook and replied, "yes, it is."

I froze because all kidding aside, I don't want to make my kid feel bad.  I dance and sing because it's just who I am, I don't intentionally try to embarrass my children.  Growing up I had a mother who seemed to thrive off of doing that.  If my mother saw that one of us was uncomfortable with how she was acting, she pounced.  "Oh are you embarrassed?," she would ask loudly.  "My daughter hates when I do this," she would announce, and do whatever she was doing that embarrassed us even more.  It seemed to make her happy.  She would get louder and laugh and make fun of us.  "Oh what's wrong? Are you embarrassed," she would tease.

I would cringe in the corner of wherever we were, wishing my mother would stop, and I vowed if I had kids I would never intentionally embarrass them, ever.  Fast forward 25 years to THE list of fears with my name, MOM, on it.  

Saturday night Lucy had a few friends over to spend the night and  to celebrate her turning 11.  They were sweet girls, and they were a captive audience.  Part of me wanted to turn up the music and dance and make them laugh.  But I knew that wasn't what Lucy wanted, so when they went upstairs to talk and braid each other's hair I turned up the music in the kitchen and danced with her brothers.

Here's the thing, it's not just me dancing in public that's embarrassing her, it's me standing in public or looking at her or waving when her friends are around or god forbid saying "love you honey" as she gets out of the car.

We have entered the age of embarrassment and self-consciousness and my mother is just so not cool no matter what she does.  Knowing that makes me breath a little easier.  I mean sure it sucks because everything I do will embarrass her, but that's the great part too.  It's not the dancing or singing that I'm doing it's the everything!

So, I am going to keep on dancing and singing and being me.  But I will also respect that she is super sensitive and uncomfortable and trying to figure the whole world out.  I will keep my vow of not going out of my way to make her feel more uncertain and unsafe and embarrassed.  When her friends are around I will reign it in a little more.

I dance and sing because that's who I am and I'm not changing that. It's taken me 40 years to finally feel okay with myself, nope I'm not changing. But that's my life. I won't change, but I also won't enjoy making Lucy feel uneasy.  

It's a weird tightrope thing, this whole feeling great in your skin middle age-ness and parenting adolescents and teens who are just at the beginning of this whole circus of self-discovery and acceptance.  

I'm sure I will mess up and Lucy will be embarrassed sometimes, but I will hold true to my vow to never go out of my way to make her feel uncomfortable.  I will remember that I am not my mother and Lucy is not me.  I will do everything I can to help Lucy feel strong and empowered and loved and ready to be whoever she wants to be in this world.  

And I will encourage her to keep filling notebooks with her stories and lists and dreams and fears and her truths forever and ever.  

The Polar Vortex

Tim went away for the weekend to be alone, to read, to catch up on his sleep.  He does this every year and I think it's great.  I support his need for solitude, I get it.  And sure, maybe I look forward to a weekend to rule over Netflix and pick movies that he would hate and not to feel that I am required to defiantly explain every mood swing I have and get to be in total control over the family schedule.  Yeah, breaks can be good.  

Besides what could go wrong while he's gone for a couple days?

Um, just a Polar Vortex/Blizzard that freaked out half the country.  
And a sex talk that I was completely unprepared to have.  

I don't want to write too much about the specifics of the talk because I don't want to embarrass anyone (mostly me).  But Friday night just as I settled in to catch up on the Real Housewives of Atlanta and Beverly Hills, one of my older kids came down to talk.  There were questions.  Questions about naked people.  Thank god I had just taken a Tylenol PM so I was a little calmer than normal.  

I had to talk about things like "natural urges" and use anatomically correct names for body parts.  It was surreal and horrifying.  I told the story of the first time I saw a naked man.  My friend Susie* had a much older sister.  That sister had a Play Girl magazine hidden in her room (really? why did she have that? I mean really!).  Susie, a few other girls and I snuck up to her room and took a good look at the magazine.  We screamed in horror and threw the magazine on the floor and ran back downstairs.  I was 10.  I was traumatized.

(*Susie is a fake name used to protect my friend who I am still friends with on Facebook's sister because come on, who wants to be outed for having Play Girl in their room.  I mean really!)

But I also didn't ever talk to anyone about it, ever.  I never asked my parents questions about naked people, sex, bodies and stuff like that.

I did tell my mother when I got my period for the first time.  Reluctantly.  She made a BIG deal about it, told me I was a woman now and that I needed to pick out a special dessert that she would make me in honor of womanhood.  I flipped through the cookbook she gave me and picked a fancy torte.  I picked it because I had never heard of or tried a torte and because it sounded like something a real woman would have.  My mother made the torte and we celebrated my period and my new womanhood as a family.  I was 12.  I was traumatized. (And I have never had a torte since that day.)

I don't want to traumatize my kids. But I can't even say "penis" or "vagina" without smirking.  I mean come on, how am I in charge of this kind of discussion?  I'm the lady whose phone goes off in church and Britney Spears' Toxic starts playing.  I'm the lady that posts silly pictures of herself dancing on YouTube.  Oh shit, I am already so traumatizing my kids.

Looking back, I remember one conversation my father had with me about being a young teenager.  He didn't get into any specifics by any means.  There probably wasn't even a whole lot of eye contact either.  "I would never want to be a teenager again, ever, it's hard," he said to me very seriously.

It is hard, especially the beginning.  When you're all mixed up.  When you're all I want to be a kid, is it okay to still want to be a kid? but what about all these feelings and "natural urges" and oh god I have to watch videos at school and I am I supposed to think this and feel that and I hate everybody and I love this cartoon but why can't I go see that movie just because it has a sex scene I know what that is you know? wait do I know what that is, oh why, what, ugh.  It sucks.

So the other night, I listened, I didn't judge, I explained, I loved.  I channeled every cool TV and movie mom I could think of to pull this off.  I was Diane Keaton in The Family Stone, Phylicia Rashad in The Cosby Show and Sally Field in Brothers & Sisters.  I stayed open-minded and calm.  I might have thrown in a few sentences about the objectification, victimization and over-sexualization of women in our society.  I mean there was an opening to plant the seeds of my liberalism/feminism and you better believe I will always take advantage of that.  But most importantly I was there.  

I hope all my kids come to me and talk about this because I am so ready.  Bring it awkward sex talks, I can handle it (I think).  I love that my kids feel safe and secure enough to talk to me about all the mixed-up-ness of life.  I truly, truly hope that never stops.  

The rest of the weekend was spent surviving the Polar Vortex.

At the library:

The library is one of the best places
in the world in my opinion.

The books I chose kind of sum up 

my whole heart and mind right now.  

And I watched a movie about Frida Kahlo this weekend 

because I know Tim would hate it.

In the snow:

The kids found a patch of ice in the yard and spent hours playing hockey.  And yes, that is an old sprinkler left out from the summer as one of the goal posts.

Tim should be home soon.  He got snowed in for longer than anticipated with the whole Polar Vortex/Blizzard and all.  While I handled things pretty well, I am ready for the break to be over.  I'm ready to settle in and watch whatever we both decide on Netflix and do this whole parenting gig together.

Electronic Devices-I've Got The Power

Last week we celebrated my son's 11th birthday.  All he wanted for his birthday was something electronic--a phone, an iPod touch, an iPad, a Kindle, etc.  

It all seems like too much.  Too much money, too much responsibility, too much freedom, too much entitlement, too much YouTube availability.  

It feels like the first step in letting go.  Letting go of the little control I have left in his tween almost teen life.

I know you might be rolling your eyes, like give me a break lady every kid has an iPod Touch you're over thinking it.  And you might be right.  But that's what I do.

My husband and I made Peyton write a report on what electronic device he wanted and why he wanted it.  "Do some research on the computer or iPad we already let you use," I suggested highlighting that he already had ample access to family technology.  "Or better yet, poll your friends and find out what they have and what they like."

He nodded, grunted and left the room.  I thought maybe he wouldn't write the report, so my dilemma, my whole what does this mean drama would be over.  But that kid worked on his report for two weeks almost every night after he finished his homework.

Watching him type away, I leaned over to my husband and said "You know we have to get him something don't you?"

He presented his report in front of the family after dinner on the night before his birthday.  We all applauded and had an open Q&A which he handled very well.  When he was finished, we told him we'd have his answer in the morning.  Making him wait longer was unnecessary but fun.

Peyton was thrilled when we told him the Kindle Fire would be arriving in the mail the next day.  And he could hardly contain himself when it actually did arrive.

 This is Peyton hardly containing himself.

Since tearing open the box, the Kindle Fire has barely left his hands, which was one of my fears.  I hate the idea of every one of us (me included) lost in our own electronic device not paying attention to the world or each other.

But that's the part of the whole story that I didn't get until now, I still have some control, limits, boundaries, what have you.  To quote a late 90s pop song, "I've got the power, woah-oh-oh-oh..."  We (Peyton, his dad and I) are in the process of contract negotiations.  We're working out an appropriate electronic device usage agreement---daily time limits on Internet and games for example.  He is understanding that with electronic device ownership comes great responsibility, or at least starting to understand.

Even though all you eye rollers thought I was over thinking this a bit, I'm glad I did.  Because this really is the first step in letting go.  Letting go of the little control I have left in his tween almost teen life.  And these early steps are pretty important because I'm teaching him control.  These are the years I can help him start practicing all these mega-important lessons like self-control, respect, responsibility and a million more.

These are the years that I can begin teaching those lessons and he'll still wear a goofy homemade hat his little sister and brother made for him for his birthday.  Tweens are actually pretty cool.

Sure he may not be thrilled, but he still wears the hat like a good big brother.

How does your family handle all these electronic device issues?  And, um, do you have any kind of contract I can copy?  

And yes, I had to put up this video from the lyrical Jesse James. Snap-I've Got The Power

The Letter From Me To Me

"What the...?," my son, Peyton, uttered in disgust at a video game the other day.  "Oh my God!"

He was playing Wii with a friend while his little brothers watched (like hawks).  I asked him to come into the kitchen for a quick chat, where I proceeded to tell him we do not talk like that in this house.  

"Mom, I didn't say anything wrong, I'm almost a pre-teen," he protested.  And he's right, he didn't say anything too horrible.  I explained that he has little brothers and they are watching him and listening to him all the time.

Peyton not only has a lot of influence as little brother JT's first base coach, but everywhere.

"For goodness sake, Wade is only 2.  I don't want him to go to preschool next year singing "Sexy and I Know It" and say "what the...?" when the snack isn't what he wants," I explained to Peyton.

He rolled his eyes and went back to his video games.

You might be surprised at my conservatism about language since I have been known to have quite a love of swearing.  But I don't swear in front of my children and plus I'm a fucking grown up. 

But there's more going on then saying the Lord's name in vain or implying h-e-double hockey sticks.  I feel my oldest pulling away.  Part of it is fun to watch as he is getting a little less shy and branching out a bit.  Part of it sucks.  He is starting to eye roll more and is getting very frustrated with people, okay mostly me.

Yesterday after getting 235 eye rolls and "mom you are so annoying" looks from my son, I escaped to the front porch.  I went through the mail and found a letter to me, from me.  What the...?

I opened it up and remembered it was from 4th and 5th Grade Church Camp that I chaperoned last winter.  If you are a believer, this is one of those God moments.  Those moments when the God/the universe/a higher power is looking out for me or just really awesome timing from talented, amazing youth coordinators at my church.  
Here's an excerpt from the letter to me from me:

So, I am on a church retreat with Peyton.  I never pictured myself chaperoning something like this, but is has been so much fun.

Fun because I've gotten to connect with Peyton and his friends and some of my friends from church.

Mostly it's been so great watching Peyton be so happy, so involved, so silly, so thoughtful.

Best feeling ever to see and know your kids are happy.

I hope by the time I read this letter, I will have had a million more happy moments with Peyton and the other kids.

Yeah, I cried.  Then I hugged Peyton.  He rolled his eyes and looked confused.

Then the kids and I went on a bike ride--I was determined to have some damn happy moments. 

As the three older kids biked far ahead of me it hit me.  This is the beginning of new chapters for all of them.  In less than two weeks, they will all be in school all day.  

Part of me thought how fun it's going to be to see them all grow up and find their own path.  Part of me thought how there will be so much that will suck.  I am going to start writing myself letters and asking people to mail them back to me, just to remind me of all the million good moments.  Letters to remind me of the path that I am on as a parent--to be strict when I need to be, relaxed when I can be; intentional, compassionate, patient, accepting, forgiving and steadfast. (No matter how many fucking eye rolls I get.)