Mid-CenturyModernMoms

The Pros And Cons Of Raising Teenagers

Yes. Believe it or not, there are several advantages to parenting teens. Let's see if I can pull my brain together enough to get a few down here.

The positive list is first. The negative/educational list is later.

1. Teens are addicted to computers. If you own several computers the teens will leave you alone until the cows come home. That means they forget about food and phone calls and television. You can watch what you like, eat whatever you want and even talk on the phone without being bothered.

2. Teens sleep in, every day. This means you can sleep in as well, assuming you don't have a job to go to or a class... The house is very quiet when the teens are sleeping, nice and silent.

3. Teens will always eat pizza. If you forget to make dinner, pizza is only a phone call away.

4. Teens leave their dirty clothes on the floor. If you have a dirty carpet~NO ONE will ever know. They cannot see the carpet through the clothes.

5. Teens like to stay up late. You will never feel lonely again at 2am. Your teen will be awake with you.

6. Teens love to eat late at night. Here's your excuse for a midnight snack. "Oh hi honey, I was just making the kids some food." (He/she'll never know you planned on eating as well.)

7. Teens are messy everywhere~this means you can blame them even if you made the mess. This is very handy if you have a spouse who's anal-retentive.

8. Teens NEVER fill the gas tank. Something else you can blame on them. "Sweetie, I just filled it. Fido must have used the car and all the fuel I put in it."

9. Teens forget to turn off lights. You'll never come home to a dark house while you have teens.

10. Teens eat lots. When they are old enough to drive, they are old enough to do the grocery shopping for you. This is very advantageous for those of us who detest grocery shopping.

For all of you who have younger children or no children, let's talk about teens. Don't be scared...well, really smart parents are scared. Teenagers are frickin' scary!

Janice's not-so-well-known facts about teenagers.

1. Teens are full of drama and angst and over-reaction. Full of it. When BBB was 13/14 all I had to do is glance his way to elicit this angry response: "What? WHAT? Why are looking at me thatway?" Dang boy I was flipping my hair off my face. I did not even mean to look his way. YIKES. The really fun days were when he got home from junior high, slammed the front door shut and stomped right on past me. The best way to react: IGNORE their presence until they seem calmer.

2. Just when you you get a grip on how to handle new and exciting behaviors, they change. Get to used to it. At 19 BPB still does this. Life with a teen is rarely if ever predictable.

3. Be prepared to have your teen ignore you and if anyone they know is close by they will pretend that have never seen you before. DO NOT embarrass your child by saying Hello to anyone. Pretend to be invisible!(I, personally, love messing with my teens' minds, so I would always introduce myself to anyone that was even close by.)

4. (AHEM)If male teens spend extra time in the bathroom do not knock on the door and scream, "What is taking you so long in there??". Trust me on this one.

5. Teens love to think they are independent. They will want you to drive them to and fro, here and there, up and downtown and everywhere but they will want you to let them go out of the car without a kiss goodbye, without you sticking your head out the window and screaming: "Hey my honeybabysugar! I love you!!!" This will cause your teen to turn beet red and flee from sight rapidly, maybe never to return. ( No suck luck. They always come home~they know where the money and food are.)

6. Teens sleep ALOT! Particularly boys between the ages 13-17. My BBB took naps last summer because he was so tired from growing. They will grow! One day you need to look down to meet their eyes. The next day they are looking down at you. It's disconcerting.

7. Teens eat 24 hours, 7 days a week. Not kidding! Get ready to serve up seconds and thirds and fourths. Also try to have snacks on hand at all times. Teens are hungry at 12 noon and 12 midnight. Just stock up! My food bill is 4 times what it was when the boys were younger.

8. Teens lie. If they get caught red-handed they will deny, deny, deny. Dr. Phil says, "How do you know if your teens are lying to you? Their lips are moving."I find this to be true in older teens the most.

9. BIG WARNING HERE: Expect your teen to go from acting like a 14yo to a 2yo in 30 seconds or less. No warnings. Temper tantrums, inability to make decisions, crying for no reason, slamming doors and stomping their feet.I think that is enough for now. You are most likely thinking it might be a good idea to sell your 10yos on the black market.....don't even dream about it. Teens always get returned to owner.

Priorities in Parenting, or, how to drive your teen crazy

My husband has been working from home today, and dedicated worker bee that he is, he is about to hop on his bike and go get us both a coffee. I am kissing him goodbye at the door.

We do not peck on the cheek, he and I. A good rule of thumb for kisses is one second per year of connubial (or co-habitory, as the case may be) bliss. People get this backward all the time. Have you ever noticed that? One endless kisses when they've been together ninety seconds; half-second seconds when they've been together forty years.

Utterly backward.

However, I run a daycare in my home. Five toddlers, ten hours a day, five days a week. (Yes, I am also the woman with three children and five step-children. And somehow, I am still sane. Am too, am too!)

When you have a houseful of toddlers, a multi-second kiss will always, always be interrupted. Always. But we are hardy, experienced, committed kissers, my man and I. We re not to be diverted from our appointed take by a mere piping voice or a tug on a pant leg. The kids have to learn their place in the grand scheme of things.

What multi-second kisses mean in a house full of teens is dramatic and copious moaning and groaning. This, too, is ignored. If the moaning and groaning gets louder and aggressive, the kisses get even more so. Teens, too, have to learn their place. Parental affection is a Good Thing.

So. I am kissing me man goodbye at the door.

One of the daycare tots trots up. Of course. The piping voice is ignored. The tug on the pant leg likewise. Also the tug on his pant leg. She is nothing if not persistent. She doesn't attempt violence against our persons; she knows better than that. She attempts conversation.

"What's your name, Ilona? Ilona, what's your name?"

Now, my man and I, being not only experienced, committed kissers, but also experienced, (soon-to-be committed) parents, have had a lifetime experience dealing with this. She does not get an answer. On the contrary. Interruptions ensure the kiss lasts longer. Now, you see, we have to keep it up until she's quiet.

Adults have the right to affection. Parents have the right to focus on each other exclusively from time to time.  Loving parents ensure a happy home, and this is good for everyone. So. "No Interrupting Grown-up Smooching" is an Important Life Lesson.

"Ilona? What's your name?" Besides, call me cynical, but I have a suspicion this isn't a sincere conversational gambit.

Mmm. He is a very good kisser. Rebekah, reading on the couch, is studiously ignoring us. See how well we've trained even our teens in appropriate response to adult affection? Hard to know how she can see the page, though, what with her eyes rolled up to the back of her head like that...

Ah, but the tot is quiet, finally, and I have to come up for air.

"Yes, sweetie? What did you want?"  (Yes, I know I've heard the question several times by now. It's the Principle of the Thing.)

"What's your name?"

"Her name," my man pipes up most helpfully, "is ..." He puts his palm across his mouth and makes elaborate cartoon kiss-noises, the squeaky balloon of romance,

"SSSSSSSMMMMMMOOOOOOOCH!"

Rebekah can bear it no longer, and races in disgust from the room. "GAH!"

Parenting is such fun!

How will they take it?

By Ora

A positive note before I go off on another track. 

We really liked one of the second batches of schools that we looked at for Abe (17.5 yo, ADHD, PDD, NVLD...) and they accepted him.  Our second place school also accepted him.  This school- FLC- won't have a suitable opening until the end of the school year, 3rd week in June, although there is a possibility of sometime in May, maybe.

Abe actually wanted to go to the second place school because it a) already had a Dungeons and Dragons group (and he loves D&D) and b) the facilities are a bit nicer.  But it wasn't totally his decision (if at all) and he's okay going to FLC. So we've chosen FLC, and he'll be starting there mid-June, and in the meantime he's in a day program that is working with his special needs through therapy and a teeny tiny bit of actual school work. It looks like he'll be repeating this school year, which is a blessing in disguise as it will give him more time at FLC, a residential program that will be working with him on life skills for his foray into adulthood. Something that every kid in his situation needs, but is difficult for a parent to teach.

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that. 

Thanks to Lewis Carroll.

My other thoughts today have to dwell on the harsher side of reality.  How do teenagers, neurotypical or special needs, react to the news that Mom is looking for a divorce from Dad?  Actually, how do you even tell them?  I definitely don't have the answer to this question, and, SURPRISE, I'm going to be springing it upon them sometime, potentially over the summer.  I don't have any answers now.  But I am looking for helpful input on this topic.  Have you been there? Can you help out with the emotional logistics involved?                                                                                                               

The Feminine Mystique

By Melanie Lynne Hauser

Lately there have been strange creatures in our house.

They giggle and flip their hair and smell a lot nicer than the usual creatures we attract.

They're girls.

This is a new development in our lives.  Younger son's social life has gone in a new direction lately; he has a girlfriend and moves in a crowd that's more co-ed than his usual group.  They're all good kids, band kids, he likes to remind us whenever we commence one of our periodic lectures about responsible sex and good choices and the whole "your entire life is ahead of you" kind of thing. 

And it's true; their activities are wholesomely sweet.  (For example, one weekend they all parked in front of the flat screen to watch what they called "all the old classic movies."  I, of course, thought they were going to pop in a DVD of Casablanca or Citizen Kane.  Instead, they sighed with nostalgia over Free Willy and Space Jam.  I guess every generation's definition of "classic" is different.)

Now, you have to understand.  Our house has been a girl-free zone forever.  (And I don't count myself as a girl because my kids and my husband certainly don't.  They've all grown to think of me as a short, cranky boy who sometimes cross dresses.)

So for over a decade - at least since first grade, when both boys discovered girls had cooties - we've gotten used to playing host (or to put it more accurately, zoo keeper) to packs of boys.  Boys who stink, who fart, who burp, who eat lots and lots of our food, who knock things over and break things and - here's a very important part - don't pay any attention at all to their surroundings.

But all of a sudden, we're playing host and hostess - properly, uncomfortably - to girls.  Dainty little creatures.  And both my husband and I are a little unsure of ourselves.

I find myself fussing around the house more.  I sweep, dust, straighten up whenever I know they're coming.  I clean the downstairs bathroom more often.  I've burned through a ton of fragrant candles.  I make sure I have some makeup on, and my hair is combed, and I don't have food sticking to my shirt.

I just take much more care.

And I didn't really notice that I was doing this until the other day.  As a group of them were downstairs, playing videogames (band geeks, remember?), my husband came up to me, speaking softly.

"Do you?"  He began.  He cleared his throat, glanced nervously downstairs, and began again.  "Um, do you, like, behave differently?  Now?  With - you know," he blushed a bit.  "Girls in the house?"

"Oh, yes!"  I was so relieved he felt the same way.  "I do!  It's so weird, isn't it?"

"Totally.  Do you think," he said, with another nervous cough as he looked sadly down at his clothes.  "Do you think I should change?  This is kind of messy, isn't it?"

I looked at him - sweat pants, white T-shirt, unshaven, a mess.   When my husband works from home, he rarely gets dressed before dinner.  I nodded.

"I know," he sighed, going upstairs.  "I thought so.  I guess I should change."

"You might want to shave, too," I called up after him.  Although I wasn't sure it would matter; since the arrival of the girls, my husband has taken to shutting himself up in his office.

Now, you have to understand.  My husband generally rejoices in being the big, embarassing, goofy dad.  When the boys' friends are over, he roams among them comfortably, telling bad jokes, teasing, rumpling hair, doing pratfalls.  He just loves it.

But with the girls - ah.  That's different.  He hides.  He just doesn't know what to do, how to act.  After all, he hasn't had to impress a girl in twenty years.  It's like everything he ever used to know, when it comes to behaving around the opposite sex, has just vanished.  Marriage has reduced him to a twelve-year-old boy again.

But I'm the opposite.  With the boys, I usually ignored them, let them be, coming down only when I hear the telltale sound of things breaking or spilling.  And even when I hear that, I simply look up from whatever I'm doing, sigh, and yell, "Clean it up!"  Then I go on about my business. 

But with the girls, I feel as if I should be a good hostess; as if I should circulate.  I constantly pop in, asking if anyone needs anything - drinks, food, the thermostat turned up or down.  I circle them nervously - not the least because I know, in a way my husband doesn't because he didn't have the social life I did in high school, that a chaperone is what's needed these days.   In addition to a hostess.

When the girls leave, though - we let out big sighs of relief.  And relax, and become ourselves, our normal, easygoing, bad-joke-telling, boy-parent selves, again.

It's not that we don't enjoy this new phase in our lives.  We do.  It's just that it's - different.  Girls are just different.  Than boys.  Which, of course, is the whole point, isn't it?

It's so interesting to see how this sudden influx of feminity has thrown us both - including me, the one without a "y" chromosome - off our beam.  How we view teenage girls as these strange, exotic creatures we have to be so very careful around.

Sometimes I miss the boys, to tell the truth.  A couple of weekends ago a new, exciting videogame was released and my son brought a pack of his guy friends over for an all-night tournament.  I loved it.  I couldn't stop smiling.  They stank, they yelled, they ate everything, they broke things, but I didn't care.  It was just so good to have them back.

But even so, I ached a little with nostalgia as I shouted "Clean it up!"  Because their time is passing.  It's going to be girls from now on, and I'd better get used to it.

And really, I tell myself as I stock up on fragrant candles and force myself to buy some fashionable new outfits - I noticed last week that all the girls were wearing ballet flats so I guess they're "in" - anything that gets my husband to shower and dress before dinner can only be a good thing.

Even if it's a feminine thing.    

The Word for the Day is: Selfish

I’m going to say something to you parents out there, and it may come as a bit of a shock, but remember, everything I say I say with love.

What I’m going to say to you is this:

Be selfish. Forget the kids. Think about yourselves.

I realize these are uncomfortable sentiments to hear. Unpopular, even. Just uttering them will probably result in my lifetime PTA membership being revoked.

But they are important and necessary and some day you will wish you had heeded them.

Because some day, you will be sitting at home on a Saturday night watching reruns of “Flip This House” while your kids are out doing whatever they fancy because they have been selfish all along. And you’ll say to yourself, “Oh! This is what Melanie meant!”

Kids grow up, you see. And move on. And leave you – alone.

My family just returned from a weekend together; my brother got married for the first time at the ripe old age of 50 (who says middle-aged love isn’t possible??), and we journeyed to Minneapolis for the wedding. On Friday we woke up my younger son – he’s a high school junior – and shoved him in the car, then we drove a couple of hours to pick up our older son from college, and we had a little family road trip. It was lots of fun; the boys were joshing each other and requiring massive quantities of junk food and playing their music too loud on the radio. Just like every other family road trip we’ve ever taken.

The whole weekend was fun; it was lovely to be with family, the happy couple looked, well – happy, and again, my boys were just perfectly delightful company. We had an equally jolly road trip back, then we dropped off the older one and the younger one bade us farewell the minute after we pulled into the driveway. He hadn’t seen his girlfriend in a few days and they had plans, you see.

And all of a sudden it was just me and my husband. Together. Alone. 

The thing about raising kids is - you cannot become used to the fact of your togetherness. Because it necessarily has to change as these children, into whom you have poured your heart and mind and wallet in order to make sure they grow up healthy and happy do just that. They grow up. Healthy and happy and eager to pursue their own lives. 

But since you – the unselfish parent – have not done that, you’re left a little bewildered and a lot sad and wondering if maybe, just maybe, you should have thought of the kids a little less, and yourself a little more.

And you know what? You should have.

Our parents did. Remember them? Remember the Sixties, when children were left alone, left to hang out in the basement untended (where we usually did stupid things like see how many rusty nails we could shove up our noses, or throw things into the sump pump to see if they would float), while the parents all got together and did the Twist and drank cocktails and basically did grown up things? 

But our generation was different (maybe it was all those rusty nails?); we worked more, we invented the phrase “quality time,” and we spent every spare moment with our kids. I know my husband and I did; our weekends were full of soccer games and family game nights and movie matinees (God, how I regret some of those; raise your hand if you suffered through “Space Jam” more than once.). 

Our friendships with other adults were mainly limited to other soccer parents, room parents; we had nothing in common with most of them save for the fact that we all had procreated more or less at the same time, and in the same geographical area. 

But now the soccer games are over, and we have neglected to cultivate friendships with people we actually like, actually share interests with. And so we sit at home on Saturday nights watching reruns of “Flip this House” while our kids are out partying and I say to myself, “This is so unfair.”

We’re trying to rectify this. Fortunately, my husband and I like each other, so there’s a start; at least we have each other. We’re also trying to be more social, initiating parties and activities and trying to get to know neighbors, reconnect with relatives and friends, who do not have children, and it’s been surprising. There are some pretty neat people out there who have never heard of Bozo Buckets. Who knew?

But it’s hard, you know. Hard, when you’re in your forties.  It’s hard to put aside your insecurities which, after all, are pretty well entrenched by now, and reach out to other people. 

But it’s necessary. And the sooner you start, the easier it will be.

Which is why I’m telling you now – stop thinking about the kids! Stop planning your life around them! Stop making them your best friends. Because for sure, there will come a time when they will stop planning their lives around you. 

And then where will you be?

Trust me. You can only watch so many episodes of “Flip this House” before you want to take a hammer to your television.

Because those people are absolute idiots.

Great Milestones in Divorce

by Nina

Well, we passed another major divorce milestone this past weekend.  On Saturday night Grumble met Mex's girlfriend "Sharon" and they all went out for a jolly dinner. 

Grumble 15, was very conflicted about meeting his Dad's first serious girlfriend since the divorce.  He told me he didn't want to go, had too much homework, play rehearsal, yadda yadda yadda.  I could tell it was feeling like a "loyalty thing" and that he didn't want to upset me.  So I consciously, carefully took the high road, sat him down and together we did some prep before the dinner.

I also had some anxious feedback from Jaws 21, a senior in college, who has lived at a blessed remove from the nitty gritty of divorce these past 3 years.  Grounded as Jaws is, I often worry that he's the one who struggles the most with the dissonance of a broken family.  And this IM exchange kinda proves it:

Jaws:  "So now that Dad has a girlfriend, I feel like I'm gonna get a call one day out of the blue and he's gonna tell me he's getting married." 

Me:  "That could totally happen."

Jaws:  "But it feels so weird." 

Me:  "It's weird, but it's very possible. So maybe you should try to meet Sharon and get to know her."

"Jaws:  "Yeah, maybe.  I dunno.  Yeah, OK.  At least he told me her name."

Background:  Mex's Mom passed away 10 months after we got married.  She never knew her grandsons and died right before I became pregnant with Jaws. So my boys grew up with a step-grandma on their father's side. . . let's call her "Marsha."  Marsha is 15 years younger than Mex's father and they've been married now for nearly 20 years.  She's a brassy, opinionated, take-charge woman who makes Mex's 87-year-old father insanely happy and has added years to his life.  Mex and his brother couldn't stand Marsha from the get-go and dissed her privately and publicly -- her clothes, her multiple pierced ears, her know-it-all-ness, her intermarried children, the works.  Mex discouraged our sons from calling her "grandma," which I thought was totally over the line and urged them to ignore.  For my kids Marsha is de-facto their grandma.

Frankly, from my perspective Marsha was a godsend and a big improvement over the depressed woman who could have been my mother-in-law.  Marsha took superb care of Mex's Dad, lived in Florida, and wasn't in my face about anything. I only had to see her maybe once or twice a year, and she was actually very fun to go shopping with.

So I soberly told Grumble that he needed to go to this dinner with an open mind, meet Sharon and treat her with absolute respect.  That whoever was important to his Dad was going to be an important person for him.  I told Grumble that it had nothing to do with loyalty.  That I'm his mother forever and ever and nothing can change that.  I told him that I expected him to be gracious and kind. 

And he was.  He was charming and appropriate.  He reported that Sharon  was "nice," and a little quiet.  He crossed another milestone, and painful as it has been, so have I.
 

The detour continues

Abe's detour is continuing and I'm ready to kill J (husband, potentially to be renamed the Thorn). Abe is 17, a full-adult size, with a variety of issues: PDD-NOS (like Asperger's but worse), ADHD, non-verbal learning disabilities, high cholesterol & triglycerides.  Abe came home on Wednesday afternoon from his first-ever mental health hospitalization, but I'm not sure that anything was accomplished there other than some decompression time.  After a few hours at home, his sister Rosie (neurotypical) did something stupid, taunting him with Girl Scout cookies.  Do 14 year olds ever think?  Abe, who is on a restrictive diet because of his cholesterol and triglycerides became totally out of control with anger. Taunting him with food is just the button to get his rage going.  This time, he left me with a black eye, J with a bruise/bite and Rosie very scared.  So we had to take him back to the ER where he was transferred to another adolescent psych hospital. This time it is a different hospital and a very, very long distance away from home. We have hopes that these days away from the family will help him to become more stable and less aggressive.

The Thorn was totally gleeful to have Abe out of the house and said that it saved him filing a restraining order against Abe.  Thorn does not get that Abe is hurting as much as everyone in the house.  Thanks to Margalit, Abe is now on the waiting list at the very Prestigious Psych Hospital, which is much closer to home and specializes in kids like Abe.

Abe, fortunately or unfortunately, is demonstrating similar behaviors at far-away hospital as he would at home with Rosie.  It's good because the anger and aggression is what he needs to work on, but, it is oh so sad.  Abe has a difficult time with expressive language and tends to isolate himself rather than exhibit any social activity. Unfortunately for him, the hospital requires him to participate in groups and to be verbal with the staff and other patients. This is terribly difficult for Abe and makes him very angry.

Thorn and I each saw him (separately) over the weekend.  Abe kicked each of us out in under 30 minutes of visiting, and that's after driving 45-60 minutes to get there!  He didn't want to talk to either of us, so there was no point in staying. The hospital psychiatrist is starting to implement some of the medication changes that we talked about before the weekend.  I feel like my child is just one big, unregulated, barely supervised clinical trial on a random mixture of medications. It is so difficult to know what to do next for him. But at least right now he's safe, we're safe, and he's getting the help he needs.

The original idea of the detour was from the college admissions process, but right now I'm just worried about Abe dealing with life in the big world at all. College seems like it's far off instead of right around the corner.

High School Pressure Already

Posted by Ora

Rosie and I attended a meeting at her school with the principal and the head guidance counselor of the high school.  They told us lots of information, including how to pick classes and how the class level system works at this school.

At the dinner table, R brings out the course catalog and is leafing through it, commenting on it.  Dad (J) had not gone to the meeting this morning and immediately says that she is going to have to take all Advanced Placement (AP) and Honors classes.  Aside from the fact that for 9th graders, the only advanced level class available is Math, the school told us that the kids who try to take all AP/Honors classes are a) nuts and b) not allowed to.  The standard curriculum classes here are already very hard and considered to be among the best in the state!

So, Rose is not even registered for high school yet, and her father is trying to pressure her!  I just want her to do her best and to try.  Thankfully, she had enough self-esteem to fight back against this idiocy (and I'm there doing the same).  Oy, I can see that the HS years are going to be tough- in dealing with J's over-reactions.