A "Letting Go" Biggie—Your Kid: Driving A Car

It was like in the movie Father of the Bride when Steve Martin is looking at his daughter across the dinner table and he sees her transform from a 20-something young woman to a little girl in pigtails who can barely see over the table as she tells him in squeaky voice, “I’m getting married.” That’s how I saw my daughter behind the wheel of the car. To this day, I am not certain if my unexpected panic about her driving came from my idea that she wasn’t ready to drive a car, or that I wasn’t ready to have her driving a car. Either way, this particular right of passage, especially with my oldest child, hit me like a ton of bricks. (This transition was hard in different ways with my son.) My daughter’s learning how to drive, and then driving on her own was like being on an airplane, stuck in turbulence, for a long, long time and you wonder if you are EVER going to hit smooth air again, or whether this plane is actually ever going to find its way to solid ground.

When my daughter was 15 and passed her driver’s permit test, I thought I would be excited for her and eager to have her practice driving with me. I would be the calm, cool mom, riding shotgun as her daughter cruises around town, both of us grinning from ear to ear, listening to our favorite music. I would be giving her friendly reminders to signal her turns, and to speed up when merging onto the freeway.

Ha!

That was not even close to our reality. All was fine when we practiced in the empty parking lot at a shopping mall during off hours on a Sunday. But when it was time for her to get out on the road...”NOOOOO! STOP!” I couldn’t do it. Why? Because I was petrified that she was going to make a catastrophic driving mistake that would kill us both. And I couldn’t let that happen because I have three other children who need me! When I drive, and she is in the passenger seat, I am in control. But being her passenger was not going to work for me. I was unable to give her that control. Because I was afraid to let go. Or just afraid.

Of course I wanted her to drive. I should have been doing the victory dance that I would soon have another driver in the family.  This would eventually make my life easier. But the fear of letting go combined with the fear for her safety (and mine) was a huge mental and physical roadblock for me.

Looking back at my own 16-year-old track record didn’t do much to boost my confidence in my 16-year-old new driver. As I recall (and my parents can confirm, although they would probably rather forget), I was involved in three accidents during my first year of driving. Two of which involved inanimate objects that simply neglected to get out of the way when my car got too close to them. Needless to say, I am probably not the best equipped to coach an inexperienced driver, given my disturbing memories of being behind the wheel at 16.  I gladly turned the driving coach job over to my husband.

My daughter learned to drive. She got her license. I let go. But I continued and continue to cling onto what dupes me into thinking I have some control—my worry.

The first day of her driving independently was a milestone for both of us. As she put the car in reverse and turned to look out of the rear window while backing out of the driveway, undoubtedly bursting with excitement about her newfound freedom, I felt that my heart would burst out of my chest.  I am not sure that this feeling stopped until I heard her pull into the driveway several hours later. Whether you are a g-d-fearing person or not, these are often the times when you make all sorts of promises to your higher power about how you will never question her again as long as she keeps your daughter safe on the road, ensures that all impaired drivers do not cross her path, and that she does not succumb to ANY distractions while driving.

Even after years of her driving, I still said a prayer every morning when my daughter got into the car with my three other children and drove them to school. “Precious cargo!!” I would yell as she tore out of the driveway, no longer quite as attentive to turning all the way around when she backed up, blaring her music way too loudly from her ipod, and leaving the house usually five minutes past the agreed upon departure time.

It is scary to let go. Really scary—but it is a critical part of our job description (written in very fine print). What I realize now, three years after my daughter joined the world of licensed drivers, is that the terror I felt in allowing her to drive a car was a necessary warm-up for all sorts of letting go that we parents must do with our teens.  Each milestone is both necessary and exciting, and yet is often met with fear and uncertainty, especially on the part of the parent. And it may get a little easier with each kid, but the thought of my younger two driving makes my heart start racing immediately!

For the record, I have to admit that I am truly relieved that my daughter does not presently have a car at college. Just one less thing to add to the never-ending heap of motherhood worries that so many of us share.

I would love to hear about your experiences with your new driver or how you feel about the idea of your child driving a car some day. It's a biggie!

The Do’s and Don’ts Of Mothering a Teenage Boy

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“No one knows his true character until he has run out of gas, purchased something on an installment plan and raised an adolescent.” – humorist Marcelene Cox

People often say, “Girls are SO much harder to raise than the boys.” I have not found this to be the case. Through my own experience and in interviewing hundreds of mothers over the years, I have realized that there is nothing easy about raising teenagers in general. Now that I have sent my oldest daughter to college, the teenage boy is next in line, and I must admit, raising a teenage boy has thrown me lots and lots of unforeseen curve balls. One mother explains it like this, “Just when you think you have it down with your son, a teenage alien inserts himself into your son’s body and replaces your mamma-loving, sweet boy with a disgruntled, distracted boy/man who retracts into a universe of which you are no longer the center."

This can be a difficult process for moms.

The following is a list of the do's and don’ts of mothering your teenage son that I have gathered from my interviews with more than 400 moms and from my own experience. I hope you find them helpful. And please feel free to add your own insights in the comments section! I would love to hear from you!

DO:

• Continue to say, “I love you,” even when he stops saying it back (and yes, this hurts like hell but hopefully it is just a temporary hiatus for him).
• Love him unconditionally even when you don’t like him. He is testing out new behaviors/personas, many of which will be abhorrent to you (and you can tell him this gently), but remind yourself and him that beneath the behaviors resulting from his raging hormones, is a boy who you love dearly.
• Give him physical space. Really. He really does need to go into his room and shut his door and be left alone. And this does not mean that there is something “wrong” with him. (However, DO trust your instincts and if you feel that he is completely withdrawing from family and friends, then you may need to intervene.)
• Give him emotional space. EXPECT him to pull away from you! He must separate from you for all sorts of very important reasons relating to his transference from boy to man. Let. Him. Go. He will circle back eventually, but this is a crucial step to for him to establish himself as a young man.
• Ask questions (but not incessantly).
• Hold him accountable for his actions.
• Listen to him but hold firm to your beliefs.
• Maintain a united front with your partner! This is a MUST!
• Encourage and model self-care: good eating habits, exercise and adequate rest.
•  Trust him until he proves otherwise. If he does mess up (and he probably will), then tighten the reigns until you feel that you can slowly start to loosen them again.
• Having said this, it is essential that you set clear boundaries, expectations and limits: Establish curfews, house and car rules, and give him responsibilities in your house or have him get a job. Make sure he understands what kinds of behaviors will and won’t be tolerated (respect is a biggie), and what the consequences will be if he crosses the line (taking a 16-year-old’s cell phone away is equivalent to sending him to San Quentin).
• Keep the lines of communication open. Even when your son gives you the message that you are the last person on earth that he would want to talk to about anything, continue to let him know you are there to listen. And continue to give him messages about what is important. Even when he seems to be tuning you out, he is quite often hearing you.
• Celebrate the ways in which he does let you into his life: the little things he chooses to share with you. He will continue to give you little nuggets that show that he still needs you and wants to be connected with you, but they may be few and far between.
• Maintain your calm to the best of your ability, even during tumultuous times with your son.
• Have a sense of humor. Look for opportunities to laugh with your son.
• Remind yourself that you are on the home stretch with raising this child. Make sure you are equipping him with the skills he needs to survive on his own.

DON’T:

• Take what he says personally. Grow 17 extra layers of skin (figuratively, not literally). Understand that he may lash out, say things he doesn’t mean, take his frustrations out on you, and be hyper-critical of you. You can (and need to) talk to him about how he must be respectful of you, but try not to personalize the things he says when he is feeling stressed or confused.
• Think that you need to know everything. You really don’t. This is another area in which our generation of hovering parents needs to chill. (Remember as a kid how our parents didn’t expect us home until dark, or on weekends didn’t call other parents to check on our whereabouts, and when we came home they barely asked where we were or what we did. O.k, well, we knew what we were doing and maybe that is what scares us, but we need to allow our children to feel some of that sense of freedom. It is a right of passage.)
• Compare your son with others.
• Over-praise or over-criticize him.
• Be afraid to let him make mistakes.
• Allow your son to hold you hostage—YOU are in charge.

The Agonizing Necessity of Letting Your Child Fail

There is no getting around it, even though you may try to shield them from it, and find ways for them to avoid it, your kids will at some point have to face the dreaded agony of failure. For most moms, myself included, whether we admit it or not, when we see our children experiencing failure or disappointment, it feels like the sky is crashing down on both them and us. And sometimes, probably more often than not, we feel the pain even deeper than our children do. In most cases, our children bounce back from their disappointments relatively quickly, and yet we often stay stuck in them for way longer than we know is necessary or appropriate. Furthermore, many well-intentioned mothers, in an effort to try to “spare” their children from having to deal with failure, will go to borderline crazy lengths to assure that their child’s “fall from grace” will be cushioned or avoided all together.

Question to ponder:

What does it feel like to witness your child experience failure?

And even deeper:

Do you feel that your child’s failure a reflection on you as a mother?

Lately I have heard so many moms talk about their successes or failures of their children in a way that it is difficult to decipher who’s is who’s. I recently texted a friend to see how she was doing and she responded that her daughter made the varsity soccer team and her son had lost his tennis match. I wanted to respond, "But wait, I really wanted to know how YOU are doing!" Can we, as mothers, separate our identities from our children’s?

Before I go any further, I have to write a disclaimer: Anyone who knows me knows that I am as guilty as the next mom of allowing my entire being to be directly and significantly affected by what is happening (or not happening) in my children’s lives. I ride the crazy train with my kids and have a first class seat on that well know parenting helicopter that so many of us ride. I obsess about whether they will make a sports team, do well on their tests at school, be asked to a dance or be admitted to their college of choice.  Having said that, I am actually working on this issue within myself right now, so I have become hyper-aware of my own hovering and somewhat controlling nature, as well as that of so many of the lovely moms in my life.

As I dissect this issue of mothers being somewhat unhealthily enmeshed in their children’s lives, I start with a seemingly simple, yet extremely complicated question: Why? Sometimes when my husband has reached his limit on listening to me go over and over and over my worries and concerns about a kid-related issue, he will just stop me dead in my tracks and say, “Why do you care so much? Maybe it would be good if you try to focus on something that you can control, or go do something for yourself instead of obsessing about an outcome over which you have ZERO control. You gotta stop worrying about the kids’ stuff. It’s theirs, not yours.”

Although there is a little sting to his directive, I know deep down that he is right (darn it!). He is encouraging me to give myself permission to let go. To trust that the chips will fall where they may for our four kids, and most importantly to trust that they will be ok, wherever their chips fall. And if their chips fall the “wrong” way, and they feel sad and defeated, then my husband and I will be there to love and support them, and to help them regain their footing so they can put their chips back on the table.

We moms have such a tough time with the letting go piece. From the moment we hold them in our arms as newborns, we are programmed to “make it all better” for our kids. We make it our life’s work to make life good and safe and happy for them. But thankfully, Wendy Mogel (Blessings of a Skinned Knee and Blessings of a B-) comes along and beautifully teaches us how kids must fail in order to grow.  She explains that we are doing our children and ourselves a major disservice by not allowing them to experience failures and disappointments. When mothers don’t set clear boundaries with their children, and take on too much of their children’s “stuff,” they run the risk their children developing this line of thinking:

“I don’t really have to care, or feel anything about whether or not I make the team, make a bad decision, or get an A or a D on my test because my mom is taking it all on. Therefore, I am not even really accountable for my actions or inactions, because mom’s got me covered.”

Some moms, (myself included, on a few occasions), will actually not only take on their children’s successes or failures emotionally but will go a step further. They will intervene. They will call a coach, a teacher or an admissions director and threaten, question, manipulate, and even beg or bribe the person in the decision-making position to give their child what she “ABSOLUTELY DESERVES!!!” Okay, this is probably a good time for mom to step back, be very honest with herself, and figure out whether this is about her or about her child.  This type of behavior sends an even scarier and potentially hazardous message to her child, which could sound like:

“You are not capable of accomplishing your goal/s on your own and therefore you need me to step in and take care of it for you.”

This deprives your child of learning the invaluable, character-building lessons that one learns from failing or falling short of a goal, with resiliency at the top of the list. It also could lead your child to feel that:

• “My mom does not believe in me enough to let me figure things out for myself. I must be inadequate.”
• “My mom cares more about whether I make the team or get the grade she expects me to get than she does about me as a person. She doesn’t love me for who I am, she loves me for what I do. Therefore if I come up short of her expectations, she won’t love me.”

Confession: My daughter got a B- on a paper her senior year. She is a fantastic writer and that was not a typical grade for her on any type of writing assignment. I am friendly with her teacher and when I saw him at her school one day, I said casually, “Hey, why did you give Sophie a B- on her last paper?” He stopped, looked at me straight in the eyes and said in a very serious tone, “Because I knew it was not her best work. She knows she can talk to me about it if she would like.”

Yikes! I cannot even begin to explain the scolding I received from my daughter when I crawled out of my shame hole a few days later and told her about it. “Mom! I wasn’t really bothered by it. It wasn’t my best work. I can’t believe you did that! Why would you do that?!”

With helicopter parents attending job interviews with their children http://huff.to/18cx1PG and micromanaging their every move, it is hard not to get sucked into thinking that being overly involved in your children’s lives is a way of showing your children that you care. It’s difficult to draw the line and know when it’s ok to advocate for your child, and when you need to bite your tongue and/or detach yourself from their “stuff.”

Next time you want to step in and try to prevent your child from failing or facing disappointment, take a moment to sort out your own feelings, and ask yourself:

What am I afraid of?

Exiting the Nest: Don't Cry Because it's Over...Who Said That?!

“Don’t cry because it’s over, be happy that it happened,” my older son preached to me nearly every time he saw me for weeks after my daughter left for college. Even if my eyes weren’t filled with tears (I really tried to cry privately), he could see that there was sadness and loss that I was feeling deep from within. “She’s gone but she’s not GONE,” was the message my brain kept sending to my heart. I talked to many moms who forged this trail before me; who sent their children off to that never-never land place they call college. I heard, “It feels like someone died, like you are in mourning. You walk into their room and just weep. You kind of wander around in a fog for a while. But it does get better with time. And then when they come home again, it reminds you that it was definitely time for them to go.” I also heard, “I was so happy for my daughter and felt like I did my job in raising her. Now she’s off doing what she is supposed to be doing and that makes me feel good.”

I would put myself right smack dab in the middle of those two sentiments.

It has been exactly one month since I left her in that Ann Arbor parking lot across the street from her dorm and I am just now able to write down how it feels to launch a child. Although, ironically, I recently heard author Wendy Mogel speak and I had a chance to chat with her briefly. “I just launched my first child,“ I told her. “Did she graduate from high school or college,” she asked as she signed my copy of her recent book, Blessings of a B- (fantastic read, by the way). “High school,” I said with a questioning smile. “She’s not launched,” she said with such authority that it took me aback. She recommended a book called “Letting Go” by Karen Levin Coburn http://amzn.to/16VPYnG , which talks about the various stages your child goes through when in college, some of which can be very difficult as your child is trying to navigate the world as a young adult. I wasn’t sure if hearing this from Dr. Mogel made me feel any better or worse.

When doing research for my book, I interviewed many moms about the process of letting go. Some of my favorite responses include:

“The letting go process is sort of like walking off a cliff and praying you land safely! Or, letting a bird fly free, hoping it travels in the right direction. This is what we have all worked so hard for, to let our kids go, experience life...we just pray we gave them the foundation they need to be successful on their own terms. Sometimes it is very hard to parent while on the sidelines of college. Issues can be tough. Just remember you did the best job possible to get your kids where they are and hopefully they will take it the rest of the way—and they need to.” (Mother of three children, ages 23, 20, and 17, married 27 years)

“They always see you and need you in some sort of Mommy capacity. It's the hugest relationship of their life, whether they realize it or not. So smile and give the independence and try to keep the advice in the solicited category, but also feel free to smirk a bit when they still need you, which they will. And realize they may still act like a baby around you sometimes. You are their safe place.” (Mother of three children, ages 19, 15 and 7, married 20 years)

“I don’t really think you ever really let go. It’s reorganization. It’s just a different way of thinking about things and shelving things. The worries…I do think they become bigger in some ways. You are not worried that they are going to get hit on the playground but you worry for their safety out in the world. You hope that you are still the voice inside their head that guides them when they are making decisions.”  (Mother of three children, 21, 19, and 17, married 22 years)

As for me, I am still somewhat raw with emotion and yet, am finding my way to embrace the letting go process, which, in my opinion, cannot be rushed.  I just recently stopped automatically pulling out six placemats when I set the table for dinner. I still find myself wandering around the grocery store, feeling a little lost as my daughter was the one with the STRONGEST opinions about what food MUST be in the pantry and in the refrigerator, and what she would and wouldn’t eat for dinner. I just booked her ticket to come home for fall break and when searching for flights, I habitually typed in round trip from Minneapolis to Detroit. After a few minutes, I stopped in my tracks and stared at the screen. “She is not traveling from Minneapolis, she lives in Michigan,” I had to remind myself. I also caught myself saying to a friend when she asked if I could go for a walk on a recent Sunday, “Well, Soph will be home studying, so I can leave the younger kids home with her.”  And I finally re-patterned my brain to stop thinking that she was going to walk through the door when I heard the chime that goes off every time a door in our house is opened.

Letting her go was indeed very painful for me. Moreso than I thought it would be. My acupuncturist suggested that there should be a ritual for moms when their child leaves the nest.  Moms need time and space to allow themselves to deal with the separation. They need not be immediately thrust back into life and almost shamed for feeling sadness and loss. They are almost expected to shake off any sadness and to feel overjoyed that they have a kid in college. “She’s super happy, right? She’s doing great, right? Aren’t you sooooo happy for her,” wonderfully good-intentioned people would ask.  Yep, she is and I am. Yet, I was sad too. For as much as I knew it was time for her to go, the reality of her leaving knocked me off balance…for a while.

People say that it takes about a month to regain your stability, and this was right on for me. Time has truly been a blessing, and I can now say that I have transitioned to a new normal. And it feels good. With the support of family and friends, I am now able to say without crying (most of the time), “My daughter is away at college.” My family is happy and adjusted at home, and Sophie and I have figured out our mother-daughter long distance rhythm via text, face time, email and phone calls. I try to give her space and she tries to connect when she has time. It works...for now.

I realize that there will be many more transitions that I will go through with her, and with the other three kids, but this one was momentous for me, and I am grateful to be on the other side of it.

I did cry (a lot) because it was over, HOWEVER, I am eternally grateful and overjoyed that it happened…And, in a slightly different configuration…continues to happen.

How To Say Goodbye: A Lesson From My Daughter

We weren’t assigned seats next to each other on the flight that would fly us to my daughter’s new home for the next four years. We both had aisle seats, which we usually prefer, one in front of the other.  But this time I desperately wanted/needed to sit by her.  I asked the lady seated next to my daughter if she would mind switching her window seat for my aisle seat. “You know, I really do prefer a window seat,” she said. “Ok, then,” I said with my eyes to my daughter. “It’s not like I’m taking my daughter to college for the first time or anything,” I mumbled under my breath, and sat down feeling deflated. But without hesitation, my daughter started talking to me through the seat that separated us, sharing a funny story about something silly her “most adorable” camper did this summer. I leaned into the aisle, twisted my body and craned my neck to make eye contact with her. She hoisted her computer up and over the back of my seat to show me the countless pictures she had taken over the summer.

“I’m going to switch seats with you,” the woman said to me as she was already standing with her belongings in her hand.  “Thank, you. Thank you so much,” I said as I moved back to take the window seat next to my daughter.  We laughed and talked some more. We took a short jaunt down memory lane until she told me she was tired and done talking. I watched her close her eyes. I saw her as a little girl. The memories kept surfacing and resurfacing in my mind’s eye. The feelings of being pregnant with her, cradling her as a baby, clinging onto her hand when she learned to walk, holding her and stroking her hair when she cried, and even grabbing her arm a little too tightly a few times when I was upset with her came flooding back to me. In that moment, she leaned her head on my shoulder. I stroked her shiny, brown hair. A tsunami arose in my chest that came from the innermost depths of my soul and encompassed my entire being. The water came pouring out of my eyes. I truly did not know how I would make the tears stop.

How can this be the culmination of 18 years?!  How can it hurt so much even when she is doing what my husband and I have raised her to do? How can it be that the start of her next, exciting life chapter feels so excruciatingly painful for me? I leaned my head on her head and I took in her smell and the feeling of her presence. I knew that her presence in my life was about to change…pretty dramatically.

Over the past 19 years of life (actually, her 19^th birthday is next week, and will be her first birthday that I won’t be with her), Sophie has taught me how to let go. Her independent spirit has given me a lot of practice in the art of saying goodbye, which has included: the ability to hold back my tears until she couldn’t see me (okay, I couldn’t always do that); give her that “last” hug, and then separate from her, by allowing her to pull away, and then turn and walk away from me, while I worked hard to turn myself away and walk the opposite direction (resisting the urge to turn back around and run to her to give her one more hug). I have done it countless times:  when she started school, skipped off to sleepovers, begged to go to a two-week sleep-away camp at the age of 8, took trips with her grandparents, boarded planes and buses to visit friends in other states, when she spent part of a summer in Israel and when she spent the past two entire summers working as a counselor at an overnight camp.

But even as the goodbyes didn’t seem to get much easier, I always knew she was coming home.

But not this time.

Ok, I know. That sounds extremely dramatic. And it is. Of course she will come home: over her school breaks and possibly over summer breaks (unless she continues to work at summer camp or another job out of state). But those times are the exception, rather than the rule. The majority of her days and nights will not be spent in my house, in her bed, with her siblings at our dinner table.  When I feel this sense of loss come over me, which sort of feels like someone took a scoop out of my heart with an ice cream scooper, I do have conversations with myself about perspective. My message to myself is, “Hey! Your daughter is alive and healthy and thriving!  She is going to college, not Juvie! This is not some kind of terrible tragedy. She is off to have a wonderful college experience! You should be so proud! You will see her, you will talk to her and you will be in each other’s lives!” Yes. Yes. Yes. And I am grateful. I really am.

But there are many different types of losses that we as mothers endure with our children, and I pray that we all experience these types of “letting go” losses and none that are truly catastrophic.  The letting go kind of loss is actually more about recalibrating the relationship than losing it. However, I have realized that I am not exactly sure how to make this relationship shift, within myself and between my daughter and me.

My relationship with my daughter has been one of the most pivotal and powerful relationships I have ever had in my life. It would take me tens of thousands of words to explain why, but as any mother understands, the human being who turns you into a mother, holds an extremely significant place in your heart.  And now I need to figure out how to do this relationship from afar.

As much as Sophie knows that she will always have a place in our home, I know her sights are now set elsewhere. And I am happy for her. And I know she is ready.

We spent a few days in Ann Arbor helping her get her room ready, schlepping back and forth to Target and Bed, Bath and Beyond, taking her and her friends to lunches and dinners. And then, when we knew it was time, she taught me how to say goodbye, yet again.

Last night we brought her to her dorm before heading back to our hotel to get some sleep before our flight home this morning.  We only got as far as the parking lot in front of her dorm. “You guys don’t have to come up. I am okay. Really,” she said in a very sincere way.  “O.k., Soph, I guess we have to do this,” I said. My husband and I each hugged her. And then she hugged us each one more time. I gave her the card I had written her earlier that day and told her to read it later. “I love you, Mom.” “Oh, I love you more than you will ever know, Soph.” "Take care of you, Sophie," my husband said.

And then she did it. She pulled away, she turned and she walked slowly to door of her dorm. But I didn’t turn. I didn’t move. I stood there and watched her this time. I watched her walk confidently and happily to enter the next phase of her life. She opened the door to her dorm, and glanced back in our direction. Then the door shut.

And new doors opened…

The Judging of Motherhood

I think it is safe to say that most writers/bloggers live in a state of vulnerability. The process of writing and sharing your musings with others sometimes feels like you are walking down the street stark naked. Furthermore, writing and blogging about your children as well as your innermost thoughts, feelings, doubts and uncertainties about yourself as a mother, takes this feeling of vulnerability and sends it through the roof. The stories that mothers share about how wonderful, cute, funny, ironic and brilliant their children feel good to write, and for the most part, to read (unless there is bragging all over it!). But the stories that reveal the ugly truths about your children and/or you as a parent are difficult to write, to share and often difficult to read. My recent blog post on teenage angst was featured on Mamapedia. As I read through the comments on the site, I was struck by one comment in particular. A mother of two grown children wrote,

“Sometimes I really feel that, as parents, we get what we expect to get. Why ‘terrible twos’? Why ‘difficult teens’? I believe that if you start from a place of UNCONDITIONAL love, MUTUAL respect and open communication (and are willing to be humble and say ‘sorry’ to your child if you've made a mistake) there's no reason to have to ‘suffer’ through any stage in our children's development.”

Immediately I felt like I had to defend myself. I wanted to call her and say, “But I was just venting! My teenagers are awesome and I am great mom and I DO LOVE MY KIDS UNCONDITIONALLY!! I just chose not write about that this time!”

I do believe my kids are wonderful human beings, and sometimes I write about all their goodness, and the glory I feel in being their mom. But sometimes I don’t. I feel that I have a responsibility as “Unscripted Mom” to reveal some of my innermost struggles as a mother and to explain how some of my children’s struggles and behaviors blips have affected both them and me. I do this in an effort to process some of my feelings but also to help other moms who may be feeling the exact same way to know that they are not alone.

I do not need to reveal intimate details of my children’s lives. I need to respect and honor them through my writing. But for me to divulge that my two oldest children’s teen years have been somewhat difficult for me need not be shameful. There has to be room and space to discuss this. To translate my admission that there have been times when my kids have disrespected me and that I feel a sense of calm having them away from home this summer to mean that I don’t love them unconditionally...well, that is certainly a stretch.

There is a fine line between venting about the frustrations you feel parenting your children and saying that you are “suffering” through their various rough spots. The truth is that your child may encounter a bump in the road and take his frustrations out on you. As much as you talk about and demand mutual respect during these times, sometimes there is a learning curve—for them and for you. And as you both ride the curve, there may be a certain amount of “suffering” that does occur. When you love your child desperately and see her struggle and/or act out, there is virtually no escape from feeling some kind of pain.

I don’t know a love that doesn’t involve a certain amount of suffering.

Are the twos “terrible?” Some days, yes, and many days, not at all. To admit the “terribleness,” does not mean that you love your children less than a mom who says, “My two-year-old is an angel, and even when she throws herself on the floor in the middle of the grocery store, I think she is absolutely, delightful and fabulous and I love being her mother every single screaming second.”  It is probably safe to say that most mothers who write and read about motherhood love their children more than they have ever loved another human being. We are all conscientious parents and want to raise good kids. However, despite sharing the same goal, none of us will have the same journey with our children. Some parents’ and some children’s journeys will be more bumpy than others. But how one describes the level of difficulty in raising their children has zero correlation to how much love one feels toward her children.

I did/do experience some angst raising my teenagers, and they also experience angst being teenagers.  I have enjoyed a little break from this angst as they have been away this summer.             But do I love them more than anything in the world? Yes. Do I miss them terribly? Yes. Are they great kids? Yes. Do I wonder if it is my fault that there is this angst? Sometimes. Have I ever apologized to my kids for making a mistake? Probably too often. Do I work my ass off every day to be the best mother I can possibly be? Yes. Have I had to look deep into my soul to try to discover why I cannot connect with my teens sometimes, why they disrespect me sometimes, and why I have tolerated it sometimes? Yes. Have I found answers? Some.

Do you want to judge me for admitting that being a mom is not always easy for me? For admitting that sometimes a break from them feels good? For the fact that my kids are sometimes edgy and combative? This is entirely up to you but please know that I have made it my life’s work not to judge you, and to provide you with my motherhood truths in an effort to foster a safe, nonjudgmental place where mothers can be sounding boards for one another. Hope you’ll join me.

There is Something Huge Missing in My House: Teenage Angst!

It has been about four weeks since my two teenagers left for their summer adventures (one as a camp counselor and one as a student in Israel), and about two weeks since we met my daughter at her college orientation. Over these past few weeks, I have literally have felt my blood pressure drop and my whole being exhale. The anxiety level in my house and within me has decreased significantly, and I have come to a crystal clear realization:

Raising teenagers is really f-ing hard.

As absence makes the heart grow fonder, it also allows the mind to gain some perspective. I do miss my 18-year-old daughter and 16-year-old son. I miss their wit, humor and companionship. However, I realize that there are several elements of their teenage-hood that I don’t miss…at all:

• The backtalk and the continual second-guessing of my rules and “demands.”
• The battle to get their attention because of their incessant need to be connected with their friends via their cell phone or computer.
• The worry about them driving, making good choices and staying safe (which doesn’t really ever go away, even when they are hundreds or thousands of miles away).
• The late nights spent waiting to hear them (please g-d) open the door and come up the stairs to my room to let me know they are home safely and to give me the forced hug so I can do a quick smell test.
• THE MESS!!! The laundry, dishes, orange juice containers left out on the counter, trail of clothes, papers, shoes, baseball gloves, purses, water bottles that just cannot seem to get picked up on a timely basis.
• And the final, but most prominent element—their ATTITUDE, which is summed up, for pretty much all teenagers, in five simple words: “You”…   “Just”…“Don’t”… “Get”...“It”… In other words, they feel that we parents know nothing; were never teenagers and could not possibly understand what they are going through; are annoying, pretty much all the time; and if we would stop asking so many questions, imposing so many rules, and just get out of their way!!! everything would be just fine!

A dad friend of mine who takes my yoga class told me today that his teens have been relatively easy. They are focused, kind, respectful and great to be around. Several thoughts and feelings emerged for me, including, “Have I done something terribly wrong with my kids? How did he and his wife make this happen? O.k., I still have two more, maybe it will be easier with them.” It is not that my teens aren’t great kids, thankfully they are, and I wouldn’t change a thing about their feistiness and passion for life. There are plenty of moments where I do sit back and sing their praises and feel gratitude for how they are turning into fantastic young adults. HOWEVER, I will not deny that my journey with my teens has been far from easy, and that their transitions from childhood to young adulthood have included many, many bumps over the past several years (for them and for me). Furthermore, I have learned a lot about myself and the baggage that I carry from my own adolescence and teen years, which I needed to deal with to in an effort to effectively parent my teens.

Furthermore, for the record, I must say that I do not think that any parent goes unscathed during their children’s teen years. I think my yoga friend is in the minority because most of the parents I talk with feel like they are in the trenches with their teens—battling it out and often feeling defeated and confused. It is during those deflated and confused times that I find myself questioning whether or not I have the strength and the know-how to do what it takes to guide my current teens and teens to-be through these tumultuous years. However, as I am gearing up to launch my oldest teen out of the nest next month, I do know now that despite the challenges, which will undoubtedly arise, I am capable of digging up every tool that I have in my growing tool box of strategies and coping mechanisms, and muddle through the teen years with each one of my children.

But for right now, I am truly appreciating the respite from the teenage battleground, which has provided me with the time and space to realize all that I have learned from my two beloved teenage warriors.  Furthermore, this time has allowed me to enjoy extra time with my 11- and 9-year-olds, who are delighted to have first dibs on my attention, and appreciate the calmness in the house and within me.

“No one knows his true character until he has run out of gas, purchased something on an installment plan and raised an adolescent.” – humorist Marcelene Cox

Flying Solo: A Mother and Daughter's Transition

It was a mere 3 minutes and 35 seconds from the time she shuffled her way off the plane and I bear-hugged her, to the time she made a snide comment about the “out-of-style” Bermuda shorts I was wearing. She certainly laughed off most of the “annoying” questions I asked about her experience as a camp counselor, and rolled her eyes when I asked her if she had finished her graduation thank you notes. “I am working like 24/7, Mom! When do you think I have time to write thank you notes?!” I bit my lip as I recall talking to a few days prior as she was enjoying her day off. However, within 7 minutes and 47 seconds, we manage to find our rhythm, our connection, our flow of conversation, laced with belly laughter, that is unique to us, and which I cherish more than she will ever know. During the hour lay over she had, before we would both fly to Detroit for her college parent/student orientation, we sit down at an airport restaurant, just the two of us, and I exhale. It’s been only two weeks since she left for her summer job, but my time with her seems so much more essential, precious and somewhat fleeting, as she will leave for college less than two weeks after she returns home from camp (and will want to be her friends 98% of that time).

As I sit across from my daughter, who has transformed into a beautiful young woman before my eyes—yet still gobbles up her sandwich in half the amount of time that it takes me to eat mine, and licks her fingers to boot—we talk and laugh, and my heart feels full again.  After not enough time, we hustle to board the plane, and as I take my seat a few rows ahead of her, and pull out my laptop to write, I realize that this life transition that my daughter and I are both currently navigating has caused me to feel off kilter for the past few months (sometimes severely). My sense of balance, orientation and centeredness is askew. The sacred place in my heart and my mind where she has lived is undergoing some reorganization and restructuring.  The “normal” that we have known for 18 years is shifting, and as many times as I tell myself, “She is just going to college, not moving to Timbuktu; you will see her, talk to her, text her and skype with her; your relationship does not end, it just changes, and can be even better than what you’ve know it to be,” I just know myself.  I know that my heart will continue to be tugged and jolted for a while and that it will take time for me to be able to normalize this statement, “My daughter is away at college.”  The word “away” is what gets me.

There is an empty seat next to me and I turn back and get her attention, “Soph, do you want to come up and sit by me,” I ask her with a somewhat pleading look. I follow her eyes and watch her surveying the situation. I know what she is thinking without her even saying a word. She accesses that she is in an aisle seat, I am in an aisle seat and if she moves up to sit by me, she would have to sit in a middle seat. “No, I’m good, mom,” she smiles and gives me a knowing look. I repeat her words in my head, “I’m good, mom.”

And she is. She really is. I swivel back around and stare at my computer in front of me, knowing that I will need to try to find the words to describe the mix of joy, pride, sadness and fear that wells up like a geyser within me. But she is good. Sitting on her own. Excited and ready to delve into her next chapter, the one that she will write without me sitting next to her. As she designs her new life, her more independent life, I hope and pray that she knows that the seat next to me is always available for her when she needs or wants to sit there (even if it means that I have to move to a middle seat).

What Nobody Tells You About Your Teen's Final Days as High Schooler

You would think that after 18 years of parenting I would truly grasp the notion that when entering a new phase with your child, nothing will go quite as expected. Well, I certainly had expectations of how things would be with my graduating senior; how there would be lots of memorable bonding moments during her final days at home and how our house would be bubbling with excitement as she prepares to embark on her next phase of life. Well, once again, I have been blindsided, and what is happening in my house, with my daughter who graduates tomorrow (but has been done with school for a week) is a far cry from the goodbye bliss I expected.  Maybe some parents are experiencing harmony with their graduate, but from my own experience and in talking with other parents, I have learned that the reality of this transitional time looks and feels more like this:

1. Graduation week is like landing on another planet. You feel like you are having an out of body experience because you swear that it was yesterday that you were wearing that cap and gown…and as you snap yourself back into your reality, you continue to look at your kid (mine has said to me on more than one occasion, “Mom, why are you staring at me?!”) and you wonder how 18 years could have gone by in a FLASH!
2. They break up with you…in a very ungraceful way. They act like they are done with you during a time when you feel that you want to be spending more time with them. But their priority is their friends. From making the grad party rounds to just hanging out at friends’ houses, you will not find them anywhere near you. And even if they do breeze in, it is only temporary, and they usually ask for money, or just need to eat or possibly sleep for a while.
3. They regress. I really wanted to record my daughter today as she tantrummed on the phone and spoke to me like a toddler who wasn’t getting her way. Her tone is often laced with annoyance—annoyance with me that I am still standing in her way to FREEDOM!
4. If you expect gratitude, you will most likely be disappointed. “Thank you, mom, for 18 amazing years. Thank you for pouring your heart, soul and pocketbook into raising me. I know that I am the person I am today, in large part because of all the love and support you gave me.” Nope, not even close! Did not hear these words and realize that I probably won’t—at least not for a while. What I do hear is more along the lines of, “Mom, you are so annoying! Why are you imposing so many rules right now?! You know I am leaving for camp in 10 days (to work as a counselor) and then will be off to college soon after! I am so excited to get out of here! To not have to follow your rules! UGH! Can I have the car keys?” Harry Chapin was so right on, "See ya later, can I have them please?"
5. Their feelings of nervousness and anxiety are released in bursts. I had some variation of this conversation at least 10 times in the last month, Me: "How are you feeling about leaving? Do you want to talk about it?" Her: “No, I am great, fine, excited. Can you stop asking me?" However, the 11^th time, the response is something like this: “How do you think I am feeling?! I am super anxious! I have to say goodbye to all of my friends and my boyfriend, I have to get all my dorm stuff and I didn’t get into the dorm that I wanted so I don’t even know where I am living or who my roommate will be.

And what if:

I can’t stand my roommate;

I don’t make friends right away;

I can’t find my way to all my classes;

There aren’t yoga classes offered at the campus gym;

I don’t like the dorm food;

I can’t find fresh fruit to make my smoothies;

I don’t get into all the classes I want;

I don’t get into the sorority I want?

I’m super overwhelmed and I’m freaking out!  But I have to be at a grad party in 15 minutes! Bye!”

As I commiserate with other moms of my daughter's friends about this pivotal time, there is a consensus that most of our daughters are a bit unglued right now, and the push-pull cycle is in full swing—with a heavy emphasis on the push. They are breaking away and it is not pretty.  A friend of mine who has four daughters (her youngest is a recent grad) revealed, “You will have times during this process when you will say under your breath, ‘Yep, you’re leaving soon. Well, don’t let the door hit you in the a**!'”

I admit it. I have felt it. But then 20 minutes later, I come across an old picture that she drew for me when she was five, and I realize that she can do all the tantrumming and breaking up with me that she wants, but she will always be my girl.

The Final Weeks of Her High School Senior Year

I finally took a breath. Less than 24 hours earlier my daughter called and said with a certain amount of panic in her voice, “Another girl was supposed to have the senior skip day party but now she can’t so it’s okay that I told people they could come to our house, right?” “Isn’t senior skip day tomorrow,” I asked tentatively. “Yes, she said.  I paused. “I don’t think everyone will come though,” she said to fill the silence. “There are 80 seniors, right,” I asked as my mind raced to figure out how I could pull this off as my husband was out of town until early the following evening, I was headed to my son’s baseball game, had another commitment after his game, a meeting first thing the next morning and two more later that afternoon. “Ok, Sophie,” I said softly. “Thanks, mom, I gotta go, I’ll call you later.”

I raced through the next 24 hours, showing up for my commitments, filling my cart up at Costco, but feeling anxious and snapping at my kids and my husband when he called from out of town. As Sophie and I raced to go pick up tables at my sister-in-law’s house, just hours before the guests would arrive, she said, “Mom, sometimes you take the joy out of things because you get so uptight and anxious. This is not a big deal, it’s just some kids coming over. We just all want to be together.”

Ha! Just some kids coming over?! I wanted to yell at her and tell her that she doesn’t understand what it really takes to feed 60-80 people, to be unsure of how many people are actually attending, that my house is not as clean as I want it to be, that I am hosting a graduation party for her in a month, that I was a bit annoyed that I would not be able to go watch my oldest son’s baseball game that afternoon, that I was overwhelmed even before she sprung this upon me, that I wish I would have had more notice, that I wish my husband was home and didn’t travel so much…

But I didn’t yell, I mentioned a few of the above-mentioned issues but mostly just listened to what she said and let it sink in. She was right. What she said about me was sometimes true.

We drove in silence, picked up the tables and drove home. “I’m sorry, Soph, I just have a lot on my plate right now.  Are you excited to have everyone over,” I asked. “Yes, I am, mom,” she replied. “Thanks for doing it.” “My pleasure, “ I smiled at her as my heart softened.

But then it was back home to the flurry of her friends barreling in and tossing hot dog buns, watermelon, corn, brownies and drinks on my kitchen counter; and then firing up the grill to begin preparing the meal. The evening swirled as my husband got home, another mom came over to help, my sister and brother-in-law came over to lend a hand and check out the action, my son returned from his game, my two younger kids were trying to steer clear of the chaos, and more and more seniors arrived, all of them seemingly giddy, after a day of skipping school and possessing that incredible feeling of being done with high school (well almost done: done with classes but heading into two weeks of a chosen internship). They ate, talked, laughed, played volleyball, jumped on the tramp and signed yearbooks.

I was busy in the kitchen when all of the sudden I looked over at my friend who was breaking graham crackers and chocolate bars for the s’mores that the kids would soon be making, and said, “I have to stop. I have to sit down and look outside for a minute and take this all in.”

I walked over to the window and sat down in chair. I finally took a breath as I stared outside at these kids who were no longer kids. They were young adults, many of whom I watched grow up. I saw two boys (young men) perched up in Josie’s tree house heckling a classmate and then ducking down so she couldn’t see where the call was coming from. “They are still like little boys,” I said to my friend. But they aren’t little boys any longer, even if they still want to play like them.

I saw my daughter laughing, playing volleyball; appearing so happy and carefree. I wanted to go hug her and tell her how happy I was for her. How happy that she invited all her friends to our house. How excited I was that she had reached this stage of life—this stage at which she had freed herself from the angst of adolescence and was right smack dab in the middle of the “I’m free and life is an empty canvas” stage of teen land.

At that moment I felt so grateful for her, for the 18 years that I have had with her, and for all that she has taught me about life.  The 18 years seemed, at that moment, like a blip, like a sliver of what I prayed would be her long and lovely life, As I heard her roar of laughter and high-pitched screech of excitement, I blinked and she was three. There she was, playing with her friends, playing ring around the rosie, laughing and squealing with delight whey it was time to “all fall down”! A sense of peace flooded over me with the realization that my first-born baby was 18, happy and free, and that she still emotes the same joy as she did when she was a little girl.

Thoughts of the mess outside and the dishes in the sink snapped me out of my trance. “Thanks so much for hosting this for us so last minute, Mrs. Burton,” the seniors said with sincerity, as they slowly filed out of my house in small groups.  My heart was full—full of the many blessing that my daughter has given me, including the gift of filling my house up with her friends’ laughter and youthful energy.  And the gift that she had given me earlier that day—the reminder about not letting my stress to get in the way of my ability to enjoy the moment—allowed me to set aside the worry of my messy kitchen and find gratitude and joy in experiencing my daughter’s happiness and the happiness of all of her wonderful friends, who, as they are all getting ready to head out and find their way in the world.

“This goes down as one of my best senior memories,” one of my daughter’s closest friends said as she hugged me good-bye. “Me too,” I said with a smile as I hugged her back, struggling to let go.

“The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow But children grow up as I've learned to my sorrow. So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep! I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.”

(A poem I have had in my kitchen since my second child was born.)

There is No Good Way of Explaining Hate to Your Children

My husband and I were both born and raised Jewish. We both identify strongly with our Jewish faith. Our children attend/ed Hebrew and religious school and all four will be Bar/Bat Mitzvahed (two down, two to go). Yet, for many reasons, the most prominent being that we had family members attending, we made the choice to send our children to an Episcopalian school. A school that explains in its mission statement: “Our goal as an Episcopal school is to nurture the spiritual development of each person and to welcome everyone to our community.” And for the most part, we have all found this to be true.

I truly believe that the anti-semitism which two of my children experienced at school has nothing to do with the school they attend. Anti-semitism can happen anywhere. I remember the shock I felt when my dad told me that he was called a “dirty Jew” in high school. I had not experienced anything like this until I was in the work force, attending a trade show for a public relations client. I was working my client’s booth with a salesperson, who during a conversation about sales, casually said, “Yeah, you do have to be really aware of those people who will try to Jew you down.” I stood there in silence, feeling like I had just gotten kicked in the chest and had the wind knocked out of me, and took a moment to think about how I would respond. I thought about saying nothing and just letting it blow over, but then I felt a very strong force pushing me to speak. “What do you mean by that," I asked. "I am Jewish.” The look on this man's face was one of shame and regret, and he quickly engaged in some frantic back-pedaling while I just stood, stared and let him attempt to squirm his way out of this very uncomfortable situation.

It is hard to explain to kids how to handle such ignorance. Like when my daughter, several years ago, came home in tears and told me how a boy had approached her at school around this time of year and announced, “Hey, it’s Hitler’s birthday today!” How do you explain to your child why someone would say something like this, let alone be connected to this type of information or feel the need to share it with anyone, especially someone Jewish? Or when she sat down at a lunch table next to a group of kids who started chanting, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,” making sure that she could hear. How do you explain the “why” to my son who, during the Holocaust unit in his history class, was targeted by a boy who made horrendous remarks to him including, “Why don’t you go put yourself in an oven?” There is no explanation for why people hate for the sake of hating, or discriminate for the sake of discriminating. Did they learn this at home? From the media? We won’t know. I am sure they wouldn’t tell. But hate is out there. It bubbles under the surface, and unfortunately sometimes children are the victims as well as the perpetrators.

As parents, all we can do is to teach our kids tolerance, kindness and respect, but also give them the tools to stand up for themselves and for others if they experience or witness such injustices. I grew up in a home where all were welcome. Any person, of any color or any religion were welcome at our Passover seders, Hanukah dinners, or just to visit. My kids attend a school, where, all children are welcome, and the school does make it a priority to assure that every student actually feels this way. However, unfortunately, very unfortunately, for reasons that I still don’t comprehend or have the ability to explain to my children, anti-semitism, bigotry, racism and just plain hate will surface and distribute its poison, even in environments where tolerance is taught.

We talked about the tragedy in Boston at the dinner table tonight and how sad we all felt that a child and two others died, and that so many others were injured. I thought that maybe my younger children would ask, “Why?” But they didn’t. Maybe they already understand that there is no real answer to why people hate and why people hurt others. There simply is no justifiable explanation.

Did You Know that Motherhood is a Competitive Sport?

I didn’t really either until I had kids. It starts when they are babies, “My kid is 18 months old and still doesn’t sleep through the night.”  “Oh really? Sucks for you, my kid started sleeping through the night the very first night he came home from the hospital and has done so ever since.”  Then the competitive banter moves to when they start walking, talking, reading, writing, adding, subtracting and goes all the way to their GPAs, SAT scores and what college they are attending.

I am all for healthy competition. I think it is part of what makes the world go around. But the idea that parents are competing with each other based on their children’s merits…to me, this is downright crazy!

Our children naturally compete with each other, hopefully in a motivating way, but competition can be difficult for kids to navigate. Parents can be helpful or hurtful in the way they teach their children to deal with competition. It is essential for parents to look inward and be aware of how much they are using their children’s accolades to boost their own self-esteem and their feelings about themselves as a parent. Beware of this mindset: “Just look at how great my kid is! I did this!”

This issue is often taken to an extreme when it comes to kids in sports. I am blown away by the adolescent behaviors that are demonstrated by adults when it comes to kids and their sports. Are some parents trying to realize their own unfulfilled dreams through their children? Do they have early visions of their kid playing at Wimbledon, the Super Bowl or the World Series and will stop at nothing to make sure these visions become a reality (and actually think that they have that much control)?  There are actually two issues at hand here. The first involves how hard parents push their kids in sports (and in life, which I will cover in another post), and the second is how some parents develop extreme levels of competition with other parents in an effort to try to get their child “ahead” of others.

As I talk with other moms about this, I find that I am not the only mom who has been completely ignored by another mom who is pissed off that my son was chosen for a certain team and hers wasn’t, or that my son was getting more playing time than hers. Mothers have shared with me stories of how teammates’ parents have marched into coaches’ offices and ranted and raved, “How could you choose Susie for the last remaining varsity lacrosse spot?! My daughter is so much stronger and has trained so much harder! That should be her spot!” And to get even more infantile, this mother will proceed to give both Susie and her mom the stink-eye any opportunity she gets.

I am not saying that I have not felt that surge of competition or even jealousy if another kid gets picked for a team or a position over my kid. Of course, I have, this is only natural. But it is what we do with these feelings that matters.  I am not mad at the parents of the kid who got picked over my son. I am not mad at the kid either. Or the coach. I may be disappointed but I try to deal with that disappointment, and not take it out on others.

How I treat my son’s teammates and their parents is not going to affect whether my kid gets more or less playing time, or gets the position for which he is competing. I wonder if some of these parents who chose to treat other parents and kids poorly think that this is some kind of intimidation tactic. The only word I can think of in response to that is, “ICK!”  Another disturbing fact that I have learned is that sometimes the kid, whose parents are acting like this, doesn’t care that much about whether he makes the team or gets on first or second line on her hockey team. Also, she has no problem with her teammates or their parents. It is solely an issue for the kid's parents! They are competing for the kid's spot on the team more than the kid is! So, what I would like to ask these parents is, “Who this really about, your kid or you?”

Obviously, this issue has hit a nerve with me. Quite honestly, I was very hurt and blindsided by a mom who recently chose to act this way toward me. All I can say is that if your kid is on my kids’ team, I will talk to you in the stands, I will cheer like crazy for your kid, as I do for every kid on the team, and this is what I will tell my kid about being on a team and competition:

• Work hard and always show respect to your teammates and your coaches.
• Cheer on your teammates! Even if you are sitting on the bench and are not happy about it.
• When it comes to direct competition with a teammate: Maybe you are better, maybe he is, but this competition will force you to continually strive to improve.
• Ultimately it is up to the coach to make the decisions for the team. Respect that (and so will I.)
• Welcome to life. It isn’t always fair. You will compete for a job. Sometimes you will get it, sometimes you won’t. End of story.
• Don’t ever give up, on yourself, on your team or on your coach.

Beware of the Burp Method!

This past weekend, my husband took our two boys to Champps for burgers without the bun because it was Passover and they couldn't eat the bread. Our younger son was, according to him, "STAAAARRRRVVVIIINGGG because there is nothing good to eat during Passover." So, they get to the restaurant and order their burgers and wait in anticipation. As soon as the food arrives, the boys (and their dad) dig into their cheeseburgers with bacon. (Hmm, they couldn't eat the bread because of Passover, but had no problem eating the burger with cheese AND bacon, which, if you know anything about the Jewish tradition of keeping kosher, is about as unkosher as you can get). After chewing his first bite, our younger develops a "I'm-not-feeling-so-hot" look on his face. His big brother asks him what's wrong. "I don't know, I guess I just don't feel that hungry anymore," his little brother responds. "You know that if you burp, you can make room in your stomach so that you can eat more food," big brother explains. "Really? O.k., I will try that," his younger brother says with excitement. He then takes a huge gulp of his Sprite and pauses. At this moment, their waiter approaches the table. "How's it going," he asks. At that point, our 11-year-old son, who is not a very big guy, lets out a ginormous, table-vibrating burp that literally emerged from the bottom of his belly. "That was a good one," the waiter said with a smirk, and he, my husband and older son erupted with laughter. But our younger son was not laughing, and just as the waiter was about to leave their table, our son opened his mouth, seemingly to let out another, guttural, big guy burp. However, instead of a burp, he released a heaping pile of vomit onto his plate. "Not such a good one," the waiter said, trying not to gag himself. Needless to say, my three boys quickly left the restaurant and when they walked in the house, I saw our son's ghostly complexion, and my husband and older son just said, "Have we got a story for you!"

Adolescence: A Right of Passage

(*I wrote this piece when my two oldest, now 18 and 16, were in the throws of adolescence.)  As I entered the parenting arena 14 years ago, I began to hear all sorts of talk about colicky babies, the terrible twos, and the f-ing fours (sorry, that’s what my friends called it).  But I noticed that people started to clam up a bit as their kids hit the earliest stages of puberty. When I’d complain about something my toddler was doing, like wetting the bed or throwing food at the dinner table, people with older kids would respond with a little chuckle, “Oh yeah, just you wait.”  And that’s about all they would say. But they would be grinning…in an almost evil kind of way. Adolescence sneaks up on us and we are almost blindsided by it.  It is a force that takes hold of our angelic kids and throws them into an internal turmoil, and one that lasts for years. Adolescents are sweet and kind, they LOVE you; you are the BEST! And then, with a flip of a switch, they HATE you!  They are NEVER going to talk to you again, they wish they had different parents, they tell you that you are doing everything wrong, you have no idea how to parent, you do not understand them and that if only you would listen to them, then things would go smoothly.  And for a split second you think that maybe they are right.  You question yourself as a parent and as a person, “What have I done?!”  You wonder if you are indeed qualified for this job.  You know you are supposed to remain strong but you feel very, very weak--almost overpowered--but you can’t let them see that.  You cannot show any signs of vulnerability or wavering because you know what they do with that!  They pounce!  And your son is on you once again, explaining with incredible articulation that if he doesn’t get to go to the concert that ALL his friends are going to without an adult chaperone, his life will surely fall apart.  He will miss the most important event of his life and will never be invited to another social gathering throughout junior and senior high. His friends will tease him that his parents are over-protective and they will never want to come over to his house to hang out so he just might as well just quit school because he is not going to have any friends! And P.S., IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!!!

It is a very strange time, adolescence.  It is a time filled with internal contradictions: A time of independence and neediness; growth and insecurity; confidence and fear; socialization and loneliness.  It seems as though you almost have to be a mental health professional to understand how to guide your kids through this time.  But do you?   Are there some basic presiding principles for parents that can help us to not only survive our kids’ adolescence but to actually do some good during it?  I am not a professional.  I have four kids from the ages of 14 down to 4, and most of the time, I am learning as I go (don’t tell my kids).  But I will share some things that I have learned over the years, and then will hand you over to a real professional who will share her insights and tips on raising adolescents by having a better understanding of them and what they are going through.

1) Don’t be afraid to say no. Setting limits and sticking to them is crucial to getting your kids to understand and respect boundaries.

2) Know your kids’ friends. Know their cell phone numbers. Look at their Facebook pages (as well as your own kid’s, of course!) Attempt to know the parents of your kids’ friends. And communicate with them. It takes a village to keep adolescents on the straight and narrow.

3) Communicate with your adolescent’s advisor or teacher/s. Find out how she is doing is school (not just academically).

4) Take every opportunity to talk with your child. Ask questions. Listen. Remember. Check in. And keep doing this. And when they don’t want to talk, come back later and try again, and again, and again. Do NOT give up on keeping the lines of communications open.

5) Remember to be the parent, not the buddy. They have buddies. They need parents to lead, guide, and advise them (even though they would never admit that).  Not that you shouldn’t have fun with them—au contraire, have a blast! But first and foremost, be a parent, not a playmate.

6) Stay cool when they “freak out.” They need the comfort of seeing you stay calm when they are feeling out of control.  A parent and adolescent both “freaking out” simultaneously… NOT a good thing (trust me, I’ve been there).

7) Show them love as much as possible. Even when they are “hating” you, they still need you to love them. And sometimes love comes in the form of tough love: “You can go to the concert with your friends under one condition; I will be sitting in the row behind you.”

So, there’s my stab at pretending like I know something about parenting adolescents.  Who knows, maybe by the time my 4-year-old gets to be 14, I will look back on this advice and have a good laugh. But with a 14-year-old girl and a 12-year-old boy, I am certainly in the throws of trying to figure things out in the adolescent arena (and yes, still dealing with the fun 4s as well…and then there’s my 7-year-old who will soon start to sneak toward the big A just as the older ones, oh please, are through it!). Thank goodness for professionals, right?! So, here is Katy McCormick Pearson who has worked with adolescents for the past 20 years as a special education teacher, Outward Bound Instructor, and currently as the middle school counselor at the Breck School in Golden Valley. Katy is also the mother of two emerging female adolescents:

Adolescence can be an exciting, turbulent, time for both parents and the adolescents themselves.  An adolescent person experiences changes in physical development at the rate of speed unparalleled since infancy.  An adolescent’s brain is not fully developed until a person is about 20-25 years old. The connections between neurons affecting the emotional and physical development are incomplete at this stage.  Many adolescents have difficulty controlling emotions, impulses and judgment due to this incomplete yet ongoing brain development.

The upside of the adolescent brain is that teens are able to engage in more logical thinking.  They can handle more options and possibilities in this stage of development and, therefore, can begin to grapple with abstract concepts such as faith, trust and beliefs.  Many teens become activists during this stage in life and appreciate being taken seriously.  They can be quick to see discrepancies with adult’s words and actions.  There is a strong sense of a need for justice at these ages.  Adults can help by including adolescents in developing rules and consequences for themselves.   It is important to provide structure for adolescents especially since their judgment/impulse control is not quite effective and many have a false sense of being invincible when in the throws of adolescence.

The main task of an adolescent is to establish their identity.  They are in a phase of life between childhood and adulthood.  They are starting to develop autonomy within relationships, establishing their sexual identity and learning how to further interact with intimacy in all of their relationships.  An adolescent’s body is often awkward as different parts align together.  Many adolescents are self-conscious and a bit “me-centered.”

Parents can help by encouraging healthy eating habits, exercise, and allowing time for those growing bodies to have a good night’s rest.  Don’t criticize or compare your adolescent to others. Patience and understanding is key when living and loving an adolescent.  Parents will need to be “the bigger person” and not take many interactions with their son/daughter too personally.    Remember that adolescence is a stage.  Enjoy the journey together.  Adolescence is a rite of passage and you are the guide.

Making Mistakes

They all do. Make mistakes, that is. Kids, adolescents, teens make mistakes.  (As do we, as parents, of course, but I will leave that issue for another post.) Our kids and young adults fall down, they hurt themselves, they cry, they get back up and try again. One of the hardest things I have encountered as I parent my four children, is knowing when to leave her/him on the ground for a while, and let her figure out how to pick herself up, or when to run to him right away and be the one to pick him up. When children are younger they obviously need help in getting up from their falls but as they get older, we need to start to resist the urge to come so quickly to their aid. My two older children are 18 and 16 and they each have made their fair share of mistakes. Yes, they have learned from them and yet I realize that they will continue to make them and hopefully continue to learn. But so often the real learning comes from letting your child endure the full consequences of their mistakes, which cannot happen if we quickly try to pick up the pieces for them or cushion their fall. One of the most instinctive drives we have as a parent is to protect our children, so the letting them fall strategy can be all but excruciating. And it goes further than that.  It is what we do from there.  Do we try to clean things up for them, erase their mistakes, cover for them, save them from embarrassment or shame? As an outsider, the answer seems so clear. Of course you don't do that. How will they learn? But I am here to tell you, that as easy as it is to know what to do, the execution of this is not so easy. Why? Because tough love is hard. Because they will ask (beg) for your help. They will feel alone in dealing with the consequences of their mistakes and they will try to pull you in.  The boundaries between their hurt and your hurt become clouded. But we know in our heads that we are doing them a disservice by taking on their pain because if they know that mom is going to feel badly about what they do, they are less accountable for their actions, and therefore the real learning will not happen. They will not own their own mistakes.  So as they tug at our heartstrings, and our own desire to scoop them up and make it all better kicks in, remind yourself that by resisting the desire to take the fall for them, you are helping them develop their own internal compass, which they desperately need to make good decisions, guide them through their lives, and ultimately to keep them safe.

What Happens on Senior Spring Break Trip Stays in…Hmmm…Where Do you Put it?

What Happens on Senior Spring Break Trip Stays in…Hmmm…Where Do you Put it? It’s kind of like having a baby, nobody really tells you what it’s like, you kind of just have to experience it. Or as a cousin and three senior spring break trip survivor so eloquently puts it, “You don’t really want to be there, but you certainly don’t want to not be there.” Well, I was there, in the beautiful county of Costa Rica with my husband, daughter and 16 of her friends (ten girls and six boys) and a dozen or so of their parents. I shared a lovely, eye-opening somewhat perplexing week with these bright, funny interesting, multi-dimensional teens and their fun and interesting parents. I will only share my story; my birds eye view of my daughter’s senior break adventure, without revealing any of the specific details that entailed. I loved so much about the trip; spending time with my daughter and her friends, getting to know some of the parents better and having some alone time with my husband. However, I do have to say that I felt like I was propelled into another universe during the seven mind-opening days and nights we spent at the all-inclusive resort. So, for those of you who will embark on such a journey some day, or are just curious, here are my most prominent, somewhat generalized and analytical take-aways from our senior spring break adventure:

Teenagers and their Brains: A Truly Compelling Senior Spring Break Study

After having the opportunity to watch this group of teens in action for a week, I couldn’t help but to stand back, observe and do some analysis. It quickly became clear to me how incredibly fascinating, complicated, unpredictable and adaptive the teenage brain is. I saw how powerful the group mentality is and yet how certain individuals are able to differentiate themselves and make their own choices regardless of what their peers are doing. I also saw how incredibly much teens need each other, oftentimes exceedingly more than they need their parents. They need to feel a part of a whole, to belong to something bigger than themselves, where they can feel valued, accepted and protected by their peers. I watched teens act impulsively and exercise self-restraint. I observed them taking incredibly dangerous risks when they shouldn’t, and other times act overly cautious and fearful for reasons that I could not comprehend. I watched them listen to and respect authority, and blatantly disregard adults’ rules and/or warnings. I saw them protect each other in almost animalistic ways, yet at other times, throw each other directly under the bus. As I watched all of this unfold, I vacillated between feeling appalled, exasperated and completely terrified, to feeling incredibly hopeful and inspired.

I realized that the stage of life that they are in right now is incredible. The world is their oyster. They are wrapping up the first chapter of their lives, which contains all the comfort and security of friends, school and home; and are preparing themselves to venture off into the world, without these securities.  They are filled with the excitement and anticipation of starting their next chapter, which will take them away from home, to college, where they will have a brand new start. But the transition from the known to the unknown also produces some anxiety and unease, which I could sense in every kid that I spent time with this week. Some do not know where they are going to college yet, they don’t know who their friends will be, where or with whom they will live, whether or not they will join a sorority or if they will play a sport. There is a blank canvas in front of each of them, and each one of them understands that they will need to get out their own paintbrush and start painting. And what their picture will look like, no one really knows.

So, in lieu of this ever so complicated, and somewhat internally tumultuous time in their lives, if your child does convince you to take him on a senior spring break trip with his friends to a foreign country where the drinking age is 18, have fun and I wish you the best of luck!  And please send me a note and let me know how it goes for you!

A Few General Senior Spring Break Survival Tips:

1. Talk about expectations BEFOREHAND. Put it all on the table, issues relating to drinking, curfew, etc. (and also know full well that things may change when you get there). However, make your list of absolute no’s and be very clear with your child.
2. Beware of wristbands. I am not going to tell you whether or not you should or shouldn’t allow your child to drink in a country where he/she is allowed to drink legally BUT if you stay at an all-inclusive resort, but I will tell you that once that wristband is securely fastened on your child’s wrist…let’s just say, that wrist band has power. And so do all the other teens swarming around the pool deck! (Just close your eyes and think of yourself at 18, or maybe you shouldn’t.)
3. Provide STRUCTURE! Whatever you do, if you are at an all-inclusive, make sure you plan excursions, fun things to do during the day that will keep your children busy and provide an alternative focus. Explore the country, ride horses, go ziplining, parasailing, hiking, rafting, snorkeling, anything to get the kids up and moving.
4. The Door Knock. When your child is out at night, make sure that she knocks on your door (if you allow her to  room with a friend, that is) when she comes back in for the night…no matter what time it is.
5. Don’t be afraid to hover. Hang out where the kids hang out at night. You don’t have to be right next to them but you can certainly be present.
6. Strictly enforce the buddy system. This is a hard rule for all kids vacationing in a foreign country: No one goes anywhere alone! Ever! END OF STORY!
7. Try to let go a little bit so that you can have some fun too!

Parking Space 604

I open the envelope and gently pull out parking sticker 604. My mind races and my heartbeat quickens. That space is in the senior lot—the lot that is designated for the “old” kids, the kids who are in their last year of high school, are applying to colleges, getting to close to graduation, and then they are…leaving. Parking space 604 is for someone else’s daughter, not mine. Because my daughter couldn’t be that old, she couldn’t be getting ready to leave. They must have sent us the wrong parking sticker. But they didn’t. It was hers. And all that applies to those older kids, now apply to her. But what does that make me? Kind of a mess. She was gone most of the summer. She has been gone for a portion of the summer since she was eight when she let me know that she didn’t want to go to a camp that only had a one-week session for her age group, she wanted to go to one that had a two-week session. “I don’t care if I don’t know anyone there, mom. I’m fine with that.” So she went, and she kept going, and going. And now, she is plotting yet another, more permanent exit strategy. Out of my house, out of her room, out from her spot at the dinner table, out from parking spot 604…and she is already starting to leave a big, huge, gaping hole in my heart.

We visit colleges. She loves them all! Each one is her favorite. Each one would work for her escape plan. She is not afraid. She craves adventure, new experiences, new people and new surroundings. And yet I see her looking at her 8-year-old sister more lovingly lately, and studying her, as if she is realizing that Jo will grow up without her big sister living in the house, and that they will miss each other—a lot. She hugs her little sister for a little longer. She tells her how much she loves her. I even heard her whispering to her, “You have to tell mom and dad to get you an iphone so we can face-time.” Jo tells her that she will. And her brothers, she is more affectionate with them too, and is much more accepting of the things they do that used to send her ranting about how completely annoying they both are. She knows she will soon be communicating with them from afar. She understands that things will be different.

Sometimes I feel “stuff” welling up inside of me and I’m not sure what it is. Sometimes I cry at the end of a yoga class when we are resting silently on our mats with our eyes closed and I have the chance to let go of all that I am trying desperately to hold onto.  I realize that the stuff that I am so carefully guarding within my chest cavity is the pain, sadness and fear that arises (but needs to be contained) when I try to wrap my brain and my heart around the fact that my oldest child, my first born, my oldest daughter will soon leave the nest that I have spent 18 years trying to make comfortable, warm and safe for her. She was the guinea pig. She turned me into a mom and provided me with my first stab at being a parent. In so many ways, she has been my teacher. And now, even though they say, you are not supposed to be friends with your child, she is my friend. Yes, I am still her mom, I set the limits, the expectations and do all that a good parent is supposed to do, but I can’t help that I really, really like her; that I find her to be one of the funniest people I know; that I love going into her room at night, flopping down on her bed and talking with her and listening to her—about anything. I like that she is smart and interesting and fun to be around. I like that she is honest, in a no b.s. kind of way, like when she tells me that my hair looks crazy or it’s time to color the grays, or that my shoes are not right for my outfit.  She tells me that I take too long to edit her papers and that I am taking way too long to write my book. But she also cheers me on and is supportive of my dreams. She is real, she is kind, she is passionate—the best kind of friend any person would want; how could she NOT be my friend?

Her exit strategy is working. She is going to be accepted to some of the colleges she applied to and she will pick one, and then...no matter how many tears I shed, she is going to hit the road. Her parking spot in the senior lot will be taken over next year by another child whose mom cannot quite place where the 18 years have gone. And I will move through this transition…somehow, just like all the courageous moms who have raised wonderful children and then set them free. And for the time being I will try and rejoice that her parking sticker says 604; that she is still parking in the big kid lot at the school my other kids attend. I will continue to smile and exhale when I hear her car pull into our driveway and when she barrels in through the door usually yelling something that I don’t understand.

Her presence is big in our house and in my heart and I intend to fully cherish it, even after her “operation exit home” is successful.

Look Mom! No More Training Wheels!

For the past 16 years, I have driven this kid around like a chauffeur. Basketball, tennis, baseball, school, friends’ houses, camps…a regular taxi service I was. And I am certain that I complained about it…just a few times. But today that would all change. The reality of the transition that was about to occur hit me when I got out of my car and the driver's license examiner got in and said, "We will be back in 15 minutes." "Okay, I will be here," I responded in a faint voice. I walked away and felt a surge of emotions: fear, disbelief, nostalgia all mixed up with excitement and anticipation. I stood frozen and stared at my car with my son and the tester inside, only to have my trance interrupted by my son bounding out of the car mumbling expletives, “Mom, you took the car keys!” “Oh sorry, honey,” I said as I fumbled through my purse and quickly handed them over. I resumed my trance-like state, leaning against the outside of the driver’s license office building wanting time to stand still for just a moment. Please, just for a moment, so I can process this, wrap my brain around the idea of my son being able to drive...legally...by himself. But my phone rang and it was my husband, who was out of town, wanting a play-by-play of our son’s driver’s test.  Well, the first play I  reported was our son managing to maneuver the car directly over a curb as he pulled out of his parking spot and made a right hand turn. I wondered if that did him in. But I knew he wanted this; he wanted this badly, and he had worked hard and practiced and I believed that he would find a way to turn a rough start into an acceptable outcome.

I saw a girl get out of a car holding a piece of paper and walking toward her dad. She was beaming. “Congratulations,” I said as she walked passed me. She smiled and thanked me and proceeded into the building to fill out paperwork with her dad. I wondered about my son's fate. After 10 long minutes and not much to report to my husband, I saw my son pull the car into a parking spot. I saw him step out of the car holding a similar looking piece of paper. He had a grin on his face and immediately gave me a thumbs up. A knot formed in my throat and I tried not to let the tears well up in my eyes as I got the words, "he passed" out to my husband.

A license to drive is a right of passage, a milestone, a part of the natural progression of our children’s development and a big step toward their autonomy. It is something to celebrate.  But at the moment when he emerged from my car with the same "I did it" smile that he has given me so many times over his life, I realized that my time with my son just took a huge hit. He will no longer be forced to spend those minutes or hours in the car with me transporting him to where he needs to be. He can get there without me. Should I rejoice in this? Sure. But now that I can feel this time slip away, I clearly see how precious it was.

On the way home, I told him that I would miss the countless hours we had together in the car, heading to and from his games, practices and social events. I would miss the talking and the not talking…just being in the confined space of my car with him.  He was quiet, still reveling in the glory of his accomplishment. I wondered if he would miss that time we had together. Maybe somewhere in the distant future he would remember and be grateful for those times, but for the present moment, I got a very strong sense from him that he couldn't wait to be free!

So, on those days when you have spent more hours turning your steering wheel than you have doing anything else, remember that your calling as a chauffeur is only temporary. Try to cherish some of on-the-road time you have with your children.  And definitely buy yourself an awesome chauffeur’s hat!

She's Going to College!

It's official, she is going. A few of the colleges she has dreamed of attending wrote her letters and sent her emails saying they'd be thrilled to have her. She screamed! She jumped up and down! She was elated, beyond elated! I screamed and jumped up and down with her. I was elated, but not beyond elated. Because we all know what this really means. Yep, it means that she is really going to leave. She is not sure where she will land...still waiting for letters from a few other potential options. But none of these options are in my zip code or even in my state. She is flying the coop. I pray her wings are strong enough for the flight. I believe that they are but I still pray. I am proud of her, happy for her and yet slightly sad and confused. Elated? For her, maybe. For her that she gets to take those beautiful blue eyes and go out and view the world from a different lens--a lens that is more her own--a lens that she will continue to fine tune, adjust and readjust as she becomes a more aware and conscious adult. Will she know a good thing when she sees it? Will she know danger? Will she follow her heart? Or her head? I will know some of her thoughts, her ideas, her feelings, her fears but certainly a lot fewer of them than I do now. I won't be able to see her eyes every day when she comes home from school and instantly be able to determine if she had a good day or that something is weighing on her. She will get to decide if she wants to tell me--or not. I won't necessarily "just know." The protective layer that I have, or at least think I have with her living in my house, will peel away as she exits. And I don't know what it looks like or feels like to not have that layer in tact. And neither does she.

But once again, I am ahead of myself. The yoga teacher in me says, "Embrace the present. She is still here." The letters arrived and told us she'd been accepted, and she will go, but she is not gone yet. This period of time feels a little bit like a bandaid being pulled off ever so slowly. Ouch! And I don't exactly know what lies beneath the bandaid. My friends and relatives who have older kids who have gone off to college tell me,"It's great. It's like a new chapter and it's cool to develop a more adult to adult type of relationship with your child, which will happen when she leaves." O.k., yes, but I actually really like this chapter. The one in which she lives in my house, and I get to see her and hug her every day. You can't hug via skype or text. Ouch again!

I know, I can kick and scream all I want about this (well, into my pillow maybe), but there's no turning back, she going. And the funny thing is, this is what I wanted, and deep down do want for her. This is when I am supposed to say to myself, "All the hard work paid off. She's going to college! She did it! You did it!" Maybe when that bandaid is completely off and is no longer uncomfortably pulling at the hairs on my skin, I will be able to say that.

I will certainly let you know!