For the first time in many years I made a New Year’s resolution. I promised myself that no matter what, I would faithfully attend yoga classes twice a week. I believe that a rested Mom is a better Mom, a win-win for myself and my two teenagers.
After coming home from a wonderful Vinyasa class, I got out of my car and walked down my driveway to the mailbox. As I grabbed the mail and headed back up to the front door I noticed weird yellow looking blobs all over the front yard. It was dark, and not quite realizing what they were, I went inside to join my family for dinner.
To recap the day, my teen daughter had two of her friends over. As far as I knew they played Nintendo, darts and ate pizza. I assumed all was well when I left the house later that day to go to class.
At dinner my 10-year-old asked my 14-year-old why her and her friends went outside to throw frozen waffles at my teen son’s bedroom window, which happens to be on the second floor. As I’m bringing a forkful of food to my mouth, a light bulb goes off in my head. So that’s what the yellow blobs are outside I suddenly realize. Not quiet sure how to proceed next, I put my newly learned yoga breathing techniques into place.
Well, I’m proud to say that I didn’t yell at the dinner table. I did ask questions and the answers I got back were vague. So I let it go; until the next day. You see, I came to find that the yellow blobs were not just on the front lawn. There were about seven frozen waffles decorating the roof, waiting for the rains to come and morph into a big, gross mess.
And that’s when I lost it, all calming exercises out the door, as I stormed inside and summoned my teen from her room. Her eyes got wide as I screamed in a voice only a really angry Mom can. It’s my “I’m going to kill you voice,” one that is known to rock the house, literally.
I was mad for a few reasons. The first, because she did something really lame and immature. This was something she would never do on her own, but only with a set of friends. I have noticed many times over that my very smart, logical teen daughter throws all common sense out the window when she is with her friends.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s totally normal for the peer group to do silly stuff together, but that doesn’t make the silly stuff ok. And it sheds on light on future teenage endeavors that await her. I have no idea what her future holds but I had high hopes that her smarts would keep her in line.
My son was a witness that day to my yelling. As her brother he came to her defense and I quote him saying: “It’s not a big deal Mom, she was just having fun.” Funny that this teenage advice came from the kid who hopped on a skate board for the first time over break at his buddy’s house (downhill I might add). When I picked him up, he was badly hurt, sprained ankle, busted up knee and forearm. Couldn’t really function for three days after that, but as he said once again, it was fun.
So, am I just old, or are my teenagers just acting like teenagers? Yes, neither of these two antics caused any great harm but they weren’t proud moments either. I am tired of getting the same old thing thrown in my face; you are too overprotective Mom. I choose to look at it like I am just so damn fabulous and smart, that I know things because I too was once a teenager who behaved badly. I have been there, done that boys and girls. Never will I think your teenage lack of good judgment is in the spirit of “just having fun.”
So, moving forward the only words suitable to describe my two teenagers’ antics over Christmas break are simply “Leggo my Eggo.” As we move into the new year I am hopeful that everyone stays in one piece. I will continue with the yoga and will try my best to keep my yelling to a minimum. I will look at each new day as one that is fresh and clear, a path to forge for the better.
And here too is to hoping that in 2018 I never again come home to find frozen food littered across my front yard.
Elizabeth Knobel lives in Windsor and is the mother of two teens who give her inspiration everyday. She can reached at el*********@ms*.com.
