Being a parent is difficult.
Duh. Every parent will tell you that.
Being a parent of a teenager is more difficult.
And uh, duh, parents of teenagers will tell you that.
Being a parent of a female teenager - well some days it leaves me looking like this - which I am at the moment:
A family member recently told me when our babies come into this world, they come in all cute and cuddly. But when they hit a certain age, they can become quite prickly.
Good description since these days I seem to be approaching my daughter some moments like she has sticky pokey things on her waiting to shoot out at me. I do this pose a lot:
Then I walk away until things cool.
It's a balance - parenting at this age. When they're small, it's easier to say things like "because mama says so". Their questions are much simpler as well to answer. Once they are well into the double digits, their questions change. They often become demands (I am going to do whatever I want anyway) posed as questions. What was once "mama can I please have another cookie" changes to "mom can I pierce my nose" (not that this is what I am being asked to give permission to - thank goodness she has no desire to do that).
But it was still a question that caught me off guard. It ended with me saying I needed to think about it and she stating loudly "it's MY body" before storming out of the room.
Not as long as that body is living in MY house, I mumble to myself, running my hand over my forehead, down the right side of my face. Another move I do more often these days.
Instead of getting into some heated conflict, I'm learning the best approach is to walk away - let things cool - then talk with her the way I would want to be spoken to: with kindness and an open mind (that last one being a challenge for me - I'm rather old fashioned - at least that's what I've been told by the prickly one). 😂
I pause - reflect. I remember an old journal entry of mine when I was 18. I was - uh - rebellious of authority and enjoying - immensely - my newfound freedom having just graduated high school. To give a better description of my thoughts on graduating, most of the girls were crying, including myself, however I wasn't crying because I would miss the experience. I was crying because I was finally free from those prison walls of high school. So this journal entry was groaning on about how uncool my parents were. I wrote the following: "when I become a mom, I'm going to be a cool mom. I'm going to let my daughter party when she's a teenager. Yeah, I'm going to be that cool mom."
Flash forward to today. Well into my middle age years and absolutely NOT that kind of a mom. 😊 I'm open to understanding the needs of those teen years, the natural desire to rebel, but I'm also not the type to just allow my kiddo to go to some field in the middle of nowhere and suck down beer from kegs until 2am. We had more of a free-range approach - we Gen X'ers. Stay outside until the sun sets. Thirsty? Go to 7-11 for Slurpee or drink out of the hose. Snacks were melted velveeta on chips and vanilla wafers. I didn't even know of foods like mangos and kale and that there was more than just one variety of lettuce (iceburg) until I was in my early 20's. I'm much more aware of things we put into our bodies. I research and draw my own conclusions on what I feel is best for myself - and my child. Like I was when I was 18 - I am still not one to blindly follow anyone with a label or in a position of "authority". I'm just older now with more wisdom, knowledge and a working frontal cortex.
Am I more protective? Maybe. I've gone through a lot - seen a lot. I don't follow the belief that once they're 18, they're adults and are ready to take on the world alone. I let her sleep with me until she was ready to go to her own bed. I talk with her - often - about a variety of topics, not really one to believe it's important to keep all of those adult topics to the adults. Kids can handle more than we realize. I figure if she's asking, she's ready to know - but always remembering sometimes the answer needs to come in a way I feel she can handle. And now and then I simply say I don't feel she's ready to know.
Again, it's all a balance between allowing them their right to freedom - freedom to know - freedom to explore - freedom to do those creative things with their bodies (piercings, hair colors, etc.) - but in increments.
Sometimes I stumble.
Sometimes, I stick the landing.
Love,
Victoria