What do you get when you combine one grumpy 17-year-old teenage boy and one Mom who doled out a to-do list on the Monday morning school commute? A very electrically charged conversation, one that would have gone better if all parties could have agreed on the outcome.
Later on that day I got to thinking about conversations I have had lately with my two teenagers. I also asked myself why I waited until the car ride to talk to my son. I decided that some things are getting old. Like waiting for the “right moment” to bring up certain topics with them.
It seems that timing is most important when relating necessary school or chore information to them. I continually think, “ok, I’ll give them their chores after they eat, or I’ll talk to them about SAT tutoring on the weekend instead of after a long school day.” Honestly, my practice of intentional timed conversation has indeed proven me a fool. I have finally realized that no time is a good time to tell a teenager anything.
That got me thinking that maybe I am too sympathetic to the teenage dilemma. Good Lord, why is parenting an exercise in psychiatry and Buddhism (philosophy, virtue, meditation, purposeful breath)? Why do I walk around my own home wondering when the right time would be to get these lazy two beings up and functioning? And for goodness sake, why do I continue to do it?
My own parents were kind of drill sergeants while I was a teenager. My Mom would bust into my bedroom on a Saturday morning, open my blinds, rip the covers off me and announce it was time to get up. Things to do, places to be, things to see, she would say. And even though I would moan in frustration, it was better than sleeping the day away. I also learned to function like an young adult. A very important factor in teenage life.
I suppose my parents were not too sympathetic to the pitfalls of teenhood. It was their way, or the highway. I can now look back at their parenting style and understand it. There was no helicopter parenting back then. They didn’t hover. They showed me the way, and I was supposed to follow in their footsteps.
If I dig down deep, into my core reasoning and beliefs I can answer my own questions. The truth is, I’m still learning, everyday, on how to parent. It’s a constantly fluctuating life lesson. It ebbs and flows, some days better than others. And I don’t think it ever stops.
My parents still in my 43 years, have my back. One phone call of distress to them and they would be there for me. That’s a pretty powerful truth. I am truly blessed with wonderful parents. The bar was set high for me.
So maybe I won’t wait for the perfect time anymore to talk to my teens about important things. Maybe I will get a little more drill sergeant in me, invest in a small, shrill whistle. That would get their attention. And it would be worth their reaction the first time I blew it.
With a silent smirk on my face and another day in my parent belt notch, I’ll go to bed knowing I did my best, as I do most days. Another lesson learned and another point for Mom. With all these parent points, I’m bound to be the winner.
Elizabeth Knobel lives in Windsor and is the mother of two teens who give her inspiration everyday. She can reached at el*********@ms*.com.
