The best medicine

Rebekah and Aising went to a party the other night.

I did the mom thing: Where is it? Who's throwing it? Will the parents be around? How are you getting home?

They did the teen thing: resist, resist, resist.

"His name is Josh."
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"No, I don't know his last name."
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"He lives on Franklin Street."
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"No, I don't know the house address."
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"I didn't ask about his parents."
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Each sentence, you understand, hauled bodily past lips of iron. Or that's what it feels like. If babies wear you out with the physical demands, the lack of sleep, the unceasing needs, teens wear you out with the emotional/psychological demands. Making a teen divulge something they'd rather not is WORK. Exhausting work. So, when you have to work that hard, you look for something to lighten the load.

Like, say, humour?

The husband and I have gotten waaaay past the point where this annoys us. It's tiring, sure, but it's also so utterly standard. We've been down this road far too many times to waste that precious emotional energy being annoyed by it. (Okay, well, mostly we have.)

You know how that whole "NO!" thing is hard-wired into a toddler? Ask a 2-year-old if they want a cookie, while waving it RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM, and odds are very good they'll say "NO!" Then cry when you put it away, laughing. Or even better, eat it yourself. (What? You can't tell me you never played with YOUR toddler's head! Not even once? You know you did; we all did.) Humour, remember? Learn it with your toddlers; perfect it on your teens.

Just as toddler have their "NO!!", teens have their "NOT TELLING". It's all about asserting their independence and autonomy -- for both sets of offspring, large and small. (This whole toddler-teen thing is a recurring theme around here, isn't it?)

So, we don't get mad any more. We laugh. We're even past laughing quietly, just the two of us. Now we laugh AT them, RIGHT IN THEIR FACES.

"Josh on Franklin Street. Uh-huh. And if something goes wrong, and you need us to pick you up, or we need to call the police to go there, we're going to tell people... what, exactly?"

Here we mime talking to a police officer.

"Oh, it's okay, officer." I bat my eyes and hold my folded hands to my cheek. "I'm a responsible parent! I know EXACTLY where they are! Yes, sir!"

The husband chimes in. "Not to worry, officer! They're at Josh's house on Franklin Street!"

Is that not truly hysterical??? We kill ourselves, the husband and I. Fall about laughing. Our audience, strangely, is entirely silent. Which only makes it funnier. Do they honestly think their position is REASONABLE? Hoo, boy. These kids are a riot.

Okay, then. Wipe those tears of mirth, stand up straight, make the eye contact, bring the voice down to "firm" instead of "giddy", and we'll try this again.

Want to go to that party, girls? Name and number, kiddos, before you set one foot out that door.

Teens. They're so funny.

Comments

[Meg]

I learn so much from you mothers of teens! Mine are lurching toward tween at an alarming rate, so I'll need these strategies soon, I'm sure. Thanks!

[the planet of janet]

here's one to add to your torment arsenal: tell them you need to talk to the mom before you will allow them to go to a party.

that is always good for a laugh.

[Candace]

I live in what seems to be an alarmingly permissive town. Nearly all the 6th graders (now 7th graders as of next week) had cell phones, a good many of which I saw with my own eyes. The boys play really, REALLY violent video games.

It's difficult to think that the resistance is only going to get harder as he gets older, especially considering that I'm going to be dealing with permissive parents. I'll certainly maintain my authority over my own kid...I can't so much do that with other kids.

Any advice?

[Daisy]

The option is always open to have the kids hand out at your house! After my girl and her friends started driving, I missed taking her places and meeting the other parents. We started inviting the "group" to our house often.