Editor’s note: We are
trying to keep our posts at The Power of Moms quite short (we know
you’re busy!), but because we feel that this guest post from Sarah at Memories at Clover Lane offers
great persepctives about raising teens, we decided to publish a longer
version than is typical of what you’ll find on our site. Obviously, each
mother of a teen will have a unique perspective and may parent
differently than another, but as we’re here to help moms share ideas and
learn from one another so that we can make the best decisions we
possibly can as we raise our children.
Mothering teens. Holey moley – you need a WHOLE different set of
skills! It’s all so new and frustrating and scary and fun….just like
when they hand you your first newborn, it’s so hard to describe to
anyone that feeling. I think in a way parenting starts all over again
at the teen age. It has been quite a learning experience for me and I
have far to go. NOTHING, I’ll tell you, NOTHING humbles you like raising
a teen.
Here’s a recent experience to demonstrate what I’m talking about.
I got this comment last week after I posted photos on my blog of our recent family vacation:
Do you sometimes think your daughter’s shorts are too short?
It made me laugh. Actually the daughter in question, Abbey, was
sitting at the computer when I read it and we both looked at each other
and laughed together.
Because the answer is yes. I do! I think my 15-year-old daughter’s
shorts are too short. I also sometimes think she sometimes wears too
much make up. I think she is so pretty and doesn’t need one drop of it,
so any is “too much” for me. I don’t always love the tops she chooses
to wear – the style these days is not really my taste (haven’t all
mothers said this?). I wish she wouldn’t get so stressed about school,
and friend drama and sometimes I really wish she would not be so picky
and particular on just about everything. And the only nail polish color I
really like on girls that age is pink, and she likes yellow or blue or
sometimes orange.
Abbey knows all this. Sometimes we argue about it and sometimes we
downright fight about it. It’s hard. I wish she would listen to
everything I have to say and do exactly what I tell her to do all the
time. She did when she was little pretty much always. We could go
shopping and oooh and aaah over all the same stuff. The matching
tights, the cute colorful knit dresses. Those red sparkly shoes-oh, I
remember those! And the cute pink tennies. And the top with the little
ballerina girl on the front. Sometimes she’d be obsessed with a
particular clothing item and would insist on wearing it daily – but
whatever it was, it was something I picked out and approved of and
thought was pretty darn cute. We got along great all the time. Because
her opinion and my opinion matched perfectly.
In junior high we started clashing about little things. Maybe it was
at what age she could get her ears pierced. Or why I had to be so
strict about how high the heels were that she wanted to buy for 8th
grade graduation…”everyone else” was wearing those high ones, why
couldn’t she? Where we once got along almost perfectly, we started
exchanging words that weren’t so pleasant. We started getting angry at
each other as she pushed and I pulled -as she exerted her opinion that
was different from my opinion – yes, she had somehow developed her own,
how the heck did that happen?
I held her back against the growing-up-too-fast pull as best as I could. Oh, if only I could keep her in
my
world. If only I would just say yes to everything she wanted because
it was the same as what I wanted, it would all be so easy. If only she
would stay young forever.
Since then it’s been just like that…that push and pull. We have both
cried tears over the last 3 years….over how darn hard and different it
has been. Me shedding tears of doubt – Am I doing this right? Am I
being too strict? Should I have stuck to my guns? Why oh why can’t she
just trust that I know what is best for her? And her with tears of
frustration, anger, and just plain old hurt feelings.
When it comes to raising teenagers I think there are three roads to
take. Two are easy…and so tempting because you, as the mother, can
always be happy and there is little or no conflict, tears, drama.
One is the route where anything they want is fine with you. The
drinking, the boyfriends, the hotel rooms rented at prom. Rules are a
pain, and being popular is the name of the game. There is never a fight
because who wants to fight? “Yes,” is your answer, “sure go ahead
honey, we’re best friends right?” You turn your head or laugh and say,
“Teenagers will be teenagers, what can I do about it?”
The other end of the spectrum is just the opposite. You keep total
control. You make all those decisions for them. You require them to
call you on their cell phones every hour because the big bad world out
there is dangerous. You teach them that they can’t trust their own
decisions and choices and that you have all the answers. You criticize
and brainwash and protect and hover and warn and do everything in your
power to keep them under your wing constantly. Things stay the same as
they were when they were three, seven, nine – when it was easy. Their
only choice is your way or the highway.
I have seen both styles of parenting teens and I know in my heart –
and from experience – that both have pretty good odds of producing
disastrous results. The easy way, darn it, never seems to be the right
way. Even so, it’s tempting.
See that place in the middle of those two extremes? It’s tons of
work. It’s work every day, whether you are up for it or not. You as a
parent might be exhausted, sick, busy, or…you might just want to keep
that good mood going and not rock the boat for once. You know you must
gauge when to move up or down in that middle ground. Constantly you
wonder when to let go, when to be quiet, when to just listen, when to
speak up. Sure you’ve got a list that you will never ever budge on. My
kids know what those “no-budgers” are and they know WHY each thing is
on the list. My “no-budge” list starts with smoking and ends with
tattoos and include lots of really,
reallyimportant stuff in between.
But there are many things not on that list that start out one way,
and end up another as teens progress, grow and struggle or soar – and as
we parents progress and grow and struggle also. Sometimes rules need
to be adjusted as kids get older and as they present a case that makes
good sense. There needs to be a gradual letting go of the reins…a
handing over (literally!) of the steering wheel of life. Trust is
broken and gained. Lessons are learned and tears are shed. Sometimes
consequences need to be learned the hard way – but it’s tricky to know
ahead of time when something’s going to be a good learning experience.
Sometimes responsibility for decisions is given too soon, sometimes at
the right time and sometimes late enough to cause major resentment.
It’s hard to hit that “perfect timing” thing every day. The light bulb
moments us moms savor can be few and far between. And sometimes those
light bulb moments are moments when my teens have taught me as much or
more as I have taught them!
Every day, I’m making decisions large and small on the spur of the
moment, in the heat of the moment, in the light of day and the dark of
night and it all renders me mentally exhausted – weighing the pros and
cons, thinking and rethinking, trying to figure out what’s really
important – it’s a learning process. And then on top of it all, you
learn that what works for one child certainly doesn’t work for another.
Some some teens, the surefire way to get them to do a certain thing is
to let it be known that we want the opposite of that thing. For other
teens the tiniest hint of criticism from us leads to a breakdown in
communication for months and we must work to regain that relationship.
I’ve had one teen say to me, “You don’t have to be so careful about
telling me what
you think Mom! You can trust me to make my own
decision and also listen to yours and Dad’s opinion. I want to hear
what you have to say.” And I’ve had another child say, “This is what I
want. I know it’s right for me even if it isn’t what you would chose.”
Keeps you on your toes, that’s for sure. And scrambles your brain at
the same time.
But if I’ve learned anything in the last few years of parenting
teenagers it’s this. My role is not to turn my back and go with the
flow and hope for the best and it’s not to keep them young and dependent
on me so they don’t really grow up. It’s to get them to the point where
they can make healthy decisions -large and small – for themselves and
do it confidently and well. It’s to accept that my children may want
different things out of life than what I had wished for them or planned
for them or think is best for them. It’s to watch them develop their
own styles and taste and opinions (which I have learned changes so
quickly in these years) and try not to cringe to much when it’s not that
super cute sun dress, the darling flats, the preppy shirt – or the
friends, or the extracurricular activities – that I would have chosen.
So back to the short shorts. You have to know the story behind those
short shorts because it is the perfect explanation of my whole point of
this complicated dance of teen/mother relationships.
I spent about 2 1/2 months this winter hardly able to parent my five
children due to my sixth pregnancy. When I was slowly gaining my
strength, I knew my priorities were to reconnect with my kids but also
get my household back in order. We did some bedroom and closet clean
outs and Abbey (well, all of them!) had some major growth spurts this
year. They were in desperate need of summer clothes as we were heading
towards a much-needed spring break at the beach.
Let me tell you a little bit about Abbey. She’s a 4.0 student, taking
all honors classes, at a very academically competitive school. (Well,
3.9 at this moment which freaks her out to no end.) She is on crew which
requires 2 1/2 hours of practice every night but the weekends. She
also is on student council and volunteers with a program run by the
Sisters of Notre Dame helping families cope with children with
fetal-alcohol syndrome. She babysits the children while their parents
get counseling-not an easy thing to do after 7 hours of school. She
makes sure she goes to Mass every Sunday, even if it means with her busy
schedule that she goes by herself.
And what stressed her out to no end – in spite of that angelic,
well-balanced, perfect picture I just painted of her – was that she had
NO shorts for spring break. She is after all, a 15-year-old girl. Who
loves fashion. And who likes to feel confident in the way she looks.
Do you remember being 15? I sure do. Little things matter just as
much as the big things and I needed to remember that.
So fast forward to
one day before we were to leave for
spring break at the beach…the only time her still-nauseated mother could
leave her other four children to take her to the mall for the one hour
between the end of school and the beginning of crew practice.
The mall is, to Abbey’s dismay, her mother’s most-hated destination
on earth. We had put it off for weeks and weeks and frankly, snapped at
each other quite constantly over this shorts-dilemma: who has time
when, and how the world doesn’t revolve around this important task at
hand. And through it all, I was worrying over stretching myself thin and
giving proper love and attention to all these children after being sick
with this pregnancy for so long and then playing catch-up once I felt
OK. Abbey, I am sure, was feeling like, just for once, it would be nice
to spend an afternoon shopping and getting some attention, but also
those shorts – “I really really have no shorts!” Mix together my
pregnancy hormones with teenage-girl hormones and then stand back and
beware.
So we walk around an unfamiliar mall trying to find the two stores
that carry a size that will fit her. The stores with half-naked models
on huge posters are as dark as a disco and just as loud and, to the
dismay of my pregnant nose, are shooting cologne out of the heat ducts.
Like so thick you can actually
see it. I think I might die. I
try to not to look at the ads of teenagers laying on each other with no
shirts on and pants unzipped, because the last thing I need right now
is to start on that “what is this world coming to” rant in my head that
takes over my brain and makes me crabbier than heck.
Shorts. Just shorts.
We go back and forth between these two stores while she finds some
options and I develop a raging cologne headache. We try another store
with longer shorts – but everything is too big. We go back. She picks
out a few on her own that she says fit well and I don’t make her show me
– I am curled up in the comfy leather chair by the cash registers
because I need desperately to sit my old pregnant self down. She doesn’t
argue when I say, “I am not spending $35 for shorts that already have a
fray in them.” She puts that pair back. We are walking on eggshells.
We have argued extensively about shorts length (and fashion in general)
over the last few years, searching high and low for a compromise that
will please us both – me knowing full well that I am fighting a hard
battle since the stores available to us size-wise and location-wise are
on her side. When I look back, I won’t say it’s easy, but I have been
pleased with the end result of our clothing compromising capabilities. I
think she would agree. Somehow it always works out but usually requires
hours of shopping – something we didn’t have that day.
I have met my mall time quota and things can get scary after that, so
I let Abbey make her own decision and she choose shorts that are
shorter than I’d like. She is 15. She is a nice, good girl. Her
shorts are too short, yes they are. She doesn’t think so. I do. She
likes them and they aren’t as short as they could be. Most of the girls
wear shorter shorts, which I know is about the worst excuse any mother
can give. You can judge me. You can send me the link to Land’s End
Kids. You can tell me I didn’t try hard enough and that I should have
planned further in advance or had special shorts made for her. You can
tell me she is destined to work at Hooters one day all because of that
moment in the mall where I didn’t stand firm. But I didn’t have it in
me then. Plus I was rebuilding a relationship and picking and choosing
my battles. I was keeping communication lines open, or attempting to.
I was trying not to puke. I was walking that middle ground the best I
could – like most moms of teens are doing every day of their lives as
they try to figure out this whole new stage of parenting.
We bought the shorts and she thanked me. We stopped for a quick bite
before her crew practice and I took deep breaths of fresh air as I
waited in the car for her to run in and order. She was starving and had
to row a 5K and beat her last time. I dropped her off at the river and
came home and made dinner before soccer practices started for the boys.
She got home 2 hours later and did homework for 4 hours, then packed.
See, I love her, even in her short shorts. I am so proud of her and
all the decisions she has made so far. It is painful for me to watch
the struggles she goes through on a daily typical teenage day basis –
the friend drama she tries to avoid, the dismay at an acne break-out
that renders her feeling self-conscious, the pressure she puts on
herself to excel. Watching her brings back those years so quickly and
God knows they weren’t easy, were they? I want to fix everything for
her, and make it all just the way I want it to be. I see her reaching up
and out beyond her comfort level and starting to get excited about the
choices she has in life because of her hard work. I know she still needs
me, and I know we have years and lots more issues ahead of us to
tackle.
And darn it all, I know she has outgrown those red sparkly shoes and I
don’t necessarily get to pick out their replacement. I also know that
is exactly what is supposed to happen. I know we’ll be OK, short shorts
and all. But thanks for asking.
