Thirteen

Word on the street is that two seventh graders at Kevin's school had sex in the restroom at school during school hours recently, and got caught. This is not idle gossip - it happened. The details are fuzzy (i.e., how they got caught, etc.). But the police were involved, and from what I hear, the two kids involved have been removed to different schools now.

Hell's Bells. Seventh grade. Thirteen years old. Kevin is a thirteen year-old in seventh grade.

So this prompted a conversation with him this afternoon. I first asked him if he knew anything about this incident. Yes, he had heard rumors. Yes, he knows of the two kids involved, though he's not friends with either of them. I laid it straight out for him: "The fact is, Kevin, kids your age are having sex. And maybe you're not thinking about it now, but there will come a time eventually when you'll start seeing girls in a whole new light, and you will be thinking about sex. It's a really, really big deal. It's a huge responsibility. I want you to respect yourself enough to believe that it's sacred, and that it should only be shared with someone you really care about, and who cares about you. There can be really big consequences for engaging in irresponsible behavior like what those two kids did." And I told him how when I was in junior high school, a classmate of mine got pregnant and dropped out of school when she was 14 (true story). And another girl in high school dropped out to have a baby. And I told him "Making a bad choice like that can have a really big and really bad impact on the rest of your life. You can catch a disease, too." He said, "Yeah, I know, Mom. It's called AIDS." "AIDS is only the worst disease you can get. There are lots of other diseases you can get as well."

Am I trying to scare him? Yeah, I guess a little. Mostly I'm just really trying to impress upon him what a big, big deal this is. It's not something to be taken lightly. He was very uncomfortable and fidgety during the conversation. I did pretty much all the talking (and believe me, it's not the most comfortable topic for me to talk about with my adolescent son, either). I also tried to impart to him that his dad and I are always here to talk if he's got things on his mind.

But I'll tell you, this kid just does not open up. It's like pulling teeth to get anything out of him as far as what he's feeling.

There are lots of emails going back and forth between him and those two girls. Several every day. I'm not digging it. And I've found myself getting very caught up in it all, about what they say to Kevin and how he responds. The one girl, C, the one Kev's known since third grade, has reiterated to him that "Dang, your parents are Strict, with a capital S :(" I'm trying to figure out why this is bothering me so much. It doesn't bother me that she sees us as strict, but I get a sense that she's kind of disrespecting us. Which I suppose is typical behavior for a thirteen year-old. It feels like we're treading a bit on Peer Pressure territory . . . like she's trying to get him to see that his parents are too strict, perhaps? I sense a suggestion from her that he shouldn't be too happy about it. Maybe I'm reading too much into it.

The other girl, N, the one who Kevin has never met face to face, she's definitely flirting with him and pursuing him. Little chippy. And he appears to be enjoying the attention. Perhaps, just like with adults, it's easier to say things and behave a certain way behind the shield of a computer screen than in person, but I still find myself not liking these email exchanges between them. There has been nothing overtly inappropriate, but where is this flirting leading to? I'm concerned. And now watchful. She wants his cell phone number now. So I'm on the edge of my seat waiting to see how he's going to handle that one. Because the rule is that he isn't supposed to give his cell phone number out to anyone, because his cell phone isn't for socializing - it's to keep in touch with us when he's away from home, period. So what's he going to do? Tell her that he's not allowed to give out his cell phone number and risk being seen as a square? Or break the rule we've made and give her his number? I almost feel bad for him, being in that spot. But this is only the beginning as far as peer pressure and making choices go. They also keep talking about meeting at the schoolyard over some weekend to talk about their "band." In the past, I have had no problem with Kevin meeting a friend at the schoolyard to hang out, but I can say for sure that he will not be meeting members of the opposite sex without adult supervision. Not at this age. They (generally) are clearly on the cusp of developing decidedly unchildlike feelings. I'd like to meet this girl face to face, let her see my face. I'd like to meet her parents and impart to them that their daughter is sending flirty emails to a boy she's never met. Because I would want to know if my thirteen year-old daughter was doing this.

Ahhhh. Honestly? I feel like my heart is breaking a little. I feel like I'm losing my boy. I mean, I know I'm really not - not yet. He's still here, he still needs his mom, he still needs hugs from me and for me to tuck him in every night. But he's growing up. He's got secret feelings and a whole other life outside of this house and this family that has nothing at all to do with me. It's very painful, this gradual separation. He's taking a piece of my heart with him as he slowly grows away from me.

And I have no idea at all if I'm doing this parenting thing the right way.

Angst

Apparently, we have a reputation for being "strict" parents among some of Kevin's friends.

Okay, I confess: I've been peeking at his email from time to time, even though I said I wasn't going to read them anymore. They come through on my iPhone. I don't read every single one word for word anymore, most of them I ignore, but I've reserved the right to periodically skim.

I digress.

At first when I read it in an email from this girl who Kevin has been emailing back and forth with (more on that in a minute), to wit:

"I heard from c---- that ur parents are really stricked thats too bad :("

. . . I was a little taken aback and a tiny tad offended. But just for a split second. Okay, so we're strict! Yes, we have clear rules and boundaries for our kids. That's a good thing! And I think it's better to be known as "the strict parents" among one's teenage children's friends than "the cool parents."

Anyway. So this girl. No idea who she is. Never met her. In fact, Kevin's never met her. She's a friend of a friend (another girl) whom Kevin has known since the third grade. All three of them are seventh graders now, although Kevin does not attend the same school that the two girls attend. Kevin lost touch with the one girl for a while and has recently been back in touch with her. She suggested to Kevin that they form a BAND. (I am trying not to snicker here.) It's true that Kevin has been taking drum lessons for several months, and he's actually getting pretty good at it. The girl, C, has envisioned herself in the role of guitarist for said band, despite the fact that she neither owns a guitar nor has ever taken any lessons. Okay. Anyway, so she's got this friend (the serial e-mailer mentioned above), N, who is in choir at school and so, naturally, will be the singer of the band. So the three of them have been emailing each other about this band they've (not) formed. But I have to say that N, the girl I've never met, seems to be rather forward. She seems very eager to meet Kevin and "hang out." She apparently can't wait to sing a duet with him. "LOL." She seems rather flirty in her emails. And I wonder: do her parents know? Do they know that she's sending rather forward, flirty emails to some strange 13-year old boy she's never met? Because if it were me? I'd have a big problem with that. Huge.

This is all new parenting territory for us. Kevin and C have known each other for a number of years, and up until they were 11 and even 12, they still had "playdates" once in a while, which consisted of Kevin going to C's house and playing video games and such. He's clearly beyond the age of playdates now. He's still innocent. And I'm not just saying that. He's what I think will end up being something of a later bloomer. He's grown taller over the last year, but he's still a boy. I think at this point he still views girls very platonically and might be a little scared of them even. But the winds of change are a blowin'. I'm not naive. One of these days, the lightbulb is going to flash on over his head and he's going to see girls in a whole 'nuther light, my friends. And the thing is, girls tend to "get there" often before boys do, and this girl seems to have gotten there - meaning she's flirting, she's interested, she's pursuing. Which makes me downright nervous.

So we're trying to keep the lines of communication open with him. I've asked him innocently, "So, I notice you like to check your email a lot these days. Who are you emailing?" And he did mention several friends, including this girl, N. And Michael had a talk with him the other day, you know, man to man, about girls being forward and guys having to be careful and never taking advantage, etc., etc.

And of course Kevin was horrified to be having such a discussion.

Oy.

***

And then, today, Kev received news that his grandpa has cancer. His grandma told him on the phone. When he got off the phone, he told me, "Grandpa has cancer." His face looked . . . held together is the best way I can describe it. He walked away. At first I was going to let him, but I followed him into his room and asked him if he wanted to talk about it. "No, I'm fine Mom." I asked him if he was scared or sad or had any questions. "No, Mom." Here's the thing about Kevin: he talks A LOT, but he doesn't open up much. It's hard getting things out of him that deal with feelings. He said, "Well, we just went through cancer with Dad last year, so I'm not really scared about Grandpa." But the thing is, his grandpa is 80, and apparently he's got liver cancer. I have no idea what his prognosis is, but it doesn't sound too promising to me. And I don't really know what I should be doing as Kevin's mom here. Let him hang onto his optimism, or prepare him for a possible sad outcome? I don't know.

I worry. Kevin's already dealt with plenty of death. Both my dad (his "Papa Joe") and his first dad died within six months of each other. Kevin was really little then and doesn't remember it, but it's impacted him nonetheless. And yes, we went through the terrible cancer journey with Michael last year. And now his grandpa has cancer. I don't want to shelter Kevin (or any of the kids) from the realities of life - death being one of them - but I also don't want Kevin to have a sense that people he loves are transient.

He didn't want to talk about it much. But he sort of shadowed me for the rest of the evening, making small talk, giving furtive hugs, keeping that invisible string connecting us. I know it's his way of seeking comfort and reassurance. It's his way of saying, "I need you, Mom," without actually saying the words.

Ahhhh . . . it never gets easier, does it?

Teen Privacy

Thanks to everyone who offered their input on my teen privacy dilemma recently, and to those who participated in my poll on this topic. It looks like out of the people who voted in the poll, roughly half monitor their teens' email, cell phone usage and texting, and nearly everyone monitors online social networking. Thankfully, we haven't yet been faced with the social networking issue with Kevin - maybe it's more of a girl thing? He does have his own YouTube account, as he makes some really cool stop action movies with Legos and clay and whatnot, and uploads them, and he's developed a small following. Even that I'm a little wary of, just because there are all kinds of weirdos out there and I don't know how well Kevin can handle himself online with strangers. He knows never to give out any information to anyone online.

We're going to continue with the limits we put on his cell phone/texting usage, just because I don't see any reason to allow him at this tender age to use it for socializing. For the time being, it's really nothing more than a safety measure, a way for him to keep in touch with us, and vice versa, when he's not with us.

The biggie, though - email. I've stopped reading his email. I still have access to it, but I haven't read anything for the last couple weeks. I was feeling really guilty about it and the more I thought about it, the sillier it seemed to me that I thought I could rely on that to tell me any real news about my son. He's never given me any reason to be concerned or distrustful of him, so I'm going to allow him that privacy.

Ahhh, parenting. Just wingin' it here. Aren't we all?

How Much Privacy is a Teen Entitled To?

I am suddenly finding myself completely at odds with myself over something. A while back I mentioned that I monitor Kevin's email. I am seriously reconsidering this decision now.

A few days ago, out of the blue, Kevin asked me if I read his email. He knows I have his password, but my impression is that he's trusted all along that I'm not actually reading his stuff. It never occurred to me that he would come right out and ask me; I guess I assumed this would remain my little covert operation of keeping tabs on him, and he'd never be the wiser. So his question caught me off guard, and I kind of stumbled for a moment and then blurted out, "No! Of course not." Ugh. And in all honesty, I've been feeling really crummy about the lie ever since.

My logic has been as follows: if he knows I'm monitoring his email, he'll censor himself, or maybe even open up an email account for himself that I don't know about.

Obviously, I never thought this whole thing all the way through. So, what exactly do I do if I do read something in his outgoing or incoming email that concerns me? I can't exactly say something upfront about it without letting on that I've been reading, which would almost certainly (a) force him underground, and (b) cause a lot of damage to whatever trust he has in me.

The truth is, I have no reason not to trust him. He's a good kid. And I'm not just saying that. He really is. He doesn't get into trouble, he's got a very strong sense of right and wrong, he works hard and does very well in school. He gives me no cause for concern. So why do I feel this need to monitor his email? Because I can, because it's so easy to? Is that a good enough reason? Maybe I should be giving him the benefit of the doubt until/unless he shows me that he needs to be monitored? Or if, as a parent, you wait until they give you cause for concern, is it then already too late?

Nothing I've read in any of his email over the last few months has sent up any red flags. There are only a handful of people he exchanges emails with: his grandma, a neighborhood friend, and a couple of friends from school. He's gotten some forwards of religious hooey that I'd love to discuss with/dispute for him, but I guess if I want to be true to my assertion that I want my kids to make up their own minds about such things, then I have to let him make up his own mind. He and a friend from school have alluded to an interest in girls - very innocent, silly stuff, completely age-appropriate. And despite both Michael and I trying to talk to Kevin about girls, he has made it clear that that topic is not one he's willing to talk about with us. So what right do I have to pry when there's been no cause for concern?

Also, I've realized that it's foolish to think that I'm going to glean any real information from his emails. He communicates with his friends much more face-to-face at school and on the phone than he does via email, and I certainly can't monitor all of that.

I am very curious how other parents of teens feel about all of this and handle it with their own kids. And what about other forms of electronic communication? I know plenty of middle-schoolers who have free reign over texting. Kevin has a cell phone, but we made it clear from the beginning that it's not for socialization - it's to communicate with us, period. He's not allowed to give his number out to anyone, he's not allowed to text anyone except us, and we can monitor all of his phone activity online (I never have, but I could). I just don't see the need for a kid this young to be using a cell phone for socialization - but that's me. And then there's Facebook. Not that Kevin has ever shown any interest in FB (yet . . . or maybe it's more of girl thing?), but I have friends with kids his age who do have FB accounts. That's something I hope doesn't come up in our house for a long time yet.

I dunno . . . I just feel guilty all of a sudden. There's a part of me that feels like, he's a child, and as long as he's a child, everything he does is my business. But I also know that he's at the age when he is growing more toward adulthood, and he needs to discover for himself who he is, who he wants to be, and there are areas of his life, even at 13, that belong only to him, and rightly so.

A Little Magic

When Kevin was very small and occasionally had trouble going to sleep, I used Magic Sleep Dust on him. It was so long ago that it's hard to remember how I even came up with it. I would have him lie down in his bed and close his eyes, and then I would pull some Magic Sleep Dust (invisible, of course) from my pocket and sprinkle it over his closed eyes, ever-so-gently tickling his eyelashes so he could feel it. "Now, you have to keep your eyes closed or it won't work," I'd tell him. "You can't open your eyes until morning, no matter what, okay?" He would nod his little head in the affirmative with his eyes screwed tightly closed and a grin on his face. And it never failed to work. Of course he would keep his eyes closed so the "magic" could work, and he'd fall asleep.

Somewhere along the line, I lost this. Over the large gap of time between when Kevin was very small and susceptible to magic and the time when the next child came along, and amid the ever increasing chaos of bedtime with the the steady increase in the number of kids who need to be put to bed, this little magic trick was forgotten about.

The other day, out of the clear blue, apparently feeling nostalgic, Kevin said to me, "Mom, remember the Magic Sleep Dust?" And a little shockwave went through me as suddenly it all came back to me. Of course! Magic Sleep Dust! How could I have forgotten that? How is it that I've never used that on any of the other kids aside from Kevin? It made me feel sad, actually, and even a little mournful, to realize that such a long time has passed since Kevin was still in footie pajamas and open to magic, and that I allowed something so simple and yet so special slip through the cracks.

Last night, we dealt with the usual bedtime craziness. A little while after all the littles were tucked into bed, Lilah crept out of her room. "Mama?" she said. "I can't go to sleep."

So I took her by the hand and walked her back into her room, settled her into bed, and said, "Okay, I have just the thing. Close your eyes, and I'm going to sprinkle them with Magic Sleep Dust. But it only works if you keep your eyes closed all night long, okay?" She had the biggest grin on her face! "Are you ready?" I asked. She nodded "Okay, close your eyes . . ." and I pulled some invisible Magic Sleep Dust from my pocket, sprinkled it over her eyes, ever-so-gently tickling her eyelashes, and then I kissed her forehead and got up to leave the room. I looked over and both of her sisters were sitting up in bed, watching raptly, speechless.

I didn't hear another peep from Lilah for the rest of the night. Of course it worked. A little mommy magic always works.

It felt like a gift. Like this mommy still has a few tricks up her sleeve.

Difficulty and Guilt in Parenting

Ahhhh, Annabelle, Annabelle, Annabelle.

I've alluded to her mischievousness and her compulsivity (i.e., the hair-pulling/finger-sucking), but I doubt I've succeeded in conveying the true essence of Annabelle. She is t-r-o-u-b-l-e. She is by far our most challenging child - probably exacerbated by the fact that her cohort, Daisy, also brings some pretty difficult challenges to the table (i.e., phobias and high emotions). The two of them together? Fuggeduhbadit - they're going to be the death of me.

But back to Annabelle. I swear I spend 89% of my waking time saying, "Annabelle, don't do that," and "Annabelle, stop it." She is that child, the one who does everything she's not supposed to do. It all began to crystallize, from what I recall, when she was about 18 months old and started stripping down naked, including taking her diaper off, when she was supposed to be napping, and gleefully smearing poop all over her crib. No lie. I can recount so many incidents in which she was the main character - incidents involving coloring her sister from head to toe in purple marker, incidents involving stealing a half gallon of chocolate ice cream from the freezer and spreading it all over the playroom (that is, what she didn't manage to eat) incidents involving her climbing up on top of the swing set and convincing her two-year-old sister to do the same (we're talking 10 feet off the ground). Those are memorable incidents; on a typical day it's general mischief, misbehavior, and non-cooperation. Mostly harmless stuff, relatively speaking, but annoying as all hell, and exhausting. And frustrating.

This afternoon it was one thing after another when she got home from school. After many threats, I had finally had it with her shenanigans, and I told her she couldn't go to dance. Not only that, but she had to stay in her room while I took her sisters to dance. I left with Daisy and Lilah, dressed in their ballerina finery, with Annabelle having a good ol' tantrum behind her bedroom door.

When we got home a little over an hour later, I went into her room, where she sat forlornly on her bed. I felt really, really crappy. Maybe I was too harsh. I don't know.

Sometimes I really feel like I don't have the first clue how to properly parent Annabelle. She's not a bad kid. She's just . . . spirited. And stubborn. And out for a good time. And exhibits almost zero impulse control. She pushes my buttons and pushes my buttons until she pushes one too many, and BAM, I lose my temper and employ some rash consequence, because I really don't have a plan in place (clearly, I need one). And really, it's no wonder she doesn't take me seriously - I threaten and threaten and threaten, and who knows when or if I'll ever follow through. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. It's a terrible way to go about things. Talk about parenting by the seat of your pants.

I worry about her. And I worry about my relationship with her. It seems like we spend so much time at odds with each other - and she's only five, for goodness sake. And honestly? I keep waiting for some teacher or other "expert" to tell me that she's got ADHD or something. So far, though, she's never had anything but glowing reports from school - both preschool and kindergarten. I've been told how "focused" she is, how "helpful," how "cooperative." Really? My Annabelle?

I love her to bits and pieces, I do. Despite the trouble she causes, she's very sweet. She loves to be loved. She is the best hugger and snuggler in the world. And she has the most delicious giggle - seriously, I've sometimes wished I could bottle it.

Ahh, this parenting gig. It's not easy.

Humble Pie

Michael came home this afternoon from picking the twins up from school, and he told me about a little run-in he had with another parent there for pick-up. The woman was apparently busy talking on her cell phone and as a result, cut someone off in her mini-van. Michael called the woman out on it, telling her that she had cut someone off because she was on her cell phone while driving (which is illegal here, for whatever that's worth). The woman responded by becoming defensive and telling Michael to mind his own business.

There is another parent at the same school who consistently parks his big pick-up truck in a clearly marked no-parking zone in front of the school while he waits for his child to exit the school. It's a very narrow street, so one side of the street is clearly marked No Parking in order to allow traffic to move through. Yet this guy parks there nearly every day, and blocks traffic. And every time I squeeze past him in my truck, I roll down my window and tell him, "You're not supposed to park there. You're blocking traffic." And every time, he gets nasty with me. The other day, he told me, "I'm sick of your mouth!" I kept driving up to the pick-up area, and when I pulled over to pick Joey up, the guy pulls up beside me in his truck, rolls down his window and continues yelling at me. For pointing out to him that he was in the wrong.

I remember one time when I was waddling through the parking lot of Target, hugely pregnant with Finn, and some guy starts backing his car up without even looking. He came very close to hitting me. I threw my arms up, at which point he rolled down his window and flipped me the finger. Seriously.

These are relatively minor, although aggravating, incidents. There are plenty of non-traffic related instances when people screw up and just can't bring themselves to be humble about it. Instances in which words and/or actions hurt people and damage relationships.

Why is it so hard for people to acknowledge when they're out of line and apologize for it? And more to the point, why is it so hard for people to actually take an honest look at themselves and truly realize when they've been wrong? I think there are elements of both shame and pride at issue. I think some people are so worried about being liked that they're afraid of what might happen if they let their guard down and admit that they're actually fallible human beings who make mistakes sometimes. What is ironic is that they're failing to see that humbling oneself and showing remorse actually tends to make a person more likeable, more real.

My dad was a crummy father when I was growing up. Drunk a lot, violent a lot, absent a lot. I did not grow up having a good relationship with either of my parents. There came a time, though, in my adulthood, when my dad sat me down and cried over all the wrongs he had committed as a parent. No excuses, just a lot of heartfelt remorse. We were able to forge a very loving and positive relationship after that.

We struggle to instill humility in our kids. Especially Kevin. Maybe it's the age, but I think Kevin is genetically programmed to refuse accountability, to deflect blame, and to have a really hard time being sorry. His bio father was the same way all through his life - he never outgrew it. So, it's a worry of mine. But how to teach kids humility? I am not especially a fan of the practice of forcing kids to apologize when they've done something wrong (although I do find myself doing just that at times). I think all it teaches is how to deliver words without any real meaning behind them. Anyone can say "I'm sorry," but to actually mean it - to have remorse - is a different story altogether. And I don't mean guilt and shame - I mean remorse: feeling sorry for a word or deed, wanting to make amends, and making an effort to not repeat the offense.

I think the best way to instill this in our kids is by modeling it. By showing humility to them and in their presence. It's a good thing - a wonderful thing - to say to your child, "I was out of line. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings." It helps them see how important and valuable they are. It gives them validation. It allows them to see that the world will not come crashing down on someone who admits they're wrong. And it lets them experience the good feelings that being on the receiving end of a sincere apology evokes.

I say all this with the admission that I'm not always so good at this practice myself. But it's something I'm working on.

Big Little Girls

Last night Kevin gave his big R-word speech at school. It was FABULOUS. (And if you haven't already seen it, check out the footage here.)

It was part of a program in which all of the seventh and eighth graders had to present either a visual art or a performing art (Kevin's speech was classified as a performing art: a monologue). There were lots of performing arts, including dance routines.

Man, oh man, some of these girls. Seventh and eighth graders - so, we're talking 12 - 14 year olds. Performing these very sexual dance routines. And wearing very form-fitting, sexy outfits. And they're all so developed, you know? Full on boobs and butts and legs. These aren't little girls. At least not physically. It was rather startling. And unsettling. They seem so . . . wordly. Very talented girls, these. But, just . . . wow.

Am I just becoming of the geeze? An old prude? Does every generation look at its teens and think they are way too grown-up and precocious for their own good?

I was watching these girls and trying to remember back to when I was that age. Were the girls in my peer group like that? Me, I was a total ugly duckling at that age: painfully thin, short, unflattering hair, glasses, and horribly crooked teeth - I'm pretty sure I was at least occasionally mistaken for a homely boy. I'm picturing my seventh grade school photo and cringing; I don't actually have it in my possession, but I can still picture the wire-rimmed granny glasses and the powder blue polyester blouse I wore. ::Shudder:: Anyway, my point is, I don't think I could have pulled off sexy at that age no matter how hard I might have tried (and I do remember that at the time, the trend among girls was to wear shorts so short that our butt cheeks peeked out of the bottoms - which I did, and which my mother proclaimed slutty. I'll have to give her that).

Then I think of my own daughters. Is that how they're going to be in fewer than ten years? I kept hissing at Michael last night as we watched these young girls writhe all over the stage, "What would you think if that was your daughter up there?!" He just shrugged. What can you say? It's almost impossible to imagine your sweet little girls becoming these aliens with butts and boobs when they're only 3 and 5 years old.

And how did these girls' parents feel seeing their little girls up there bumping and grinding? I'm thinking if it were me, I'd say something like, "How about a puppet show, honey? No dancing. Dancing is the Devil's work."

Oy.

Mercurial

Ahhh, the teenage years. Are there any other words that conjure up such dread in the hearts of parents? We are knee-deep in teenage moodiness, attitude, and smart-mouthedness.

Don't get me wrong. Kevin is a good kid. A great kid. He doesn't get into any trouble, he does well in school, he's very loving and tolerant of his siblings, and he seems to have a pretty strong sense of right and wrong. But man, oh man, can he cop an attitude.

Did you know that once your child hits the magic 13, everything must go exactly their way? Did you further know that you should never say "no" to your teenage child? Did you also know that you should never look a teenager directly in the eyes, as they interpret it as a challenge and may attack? Plentiful eye-rolling and lots of "What?!? That's not fair!" and "Okay, fine!" in a shrieky voice ensues during adolescence, as well. And door-slamming. And stomping.

Oy.

I keep reminding myself of how it felt to be 13. I very much remember how difficult - impossible at times - it was to harness and control my confusing emotions at that age. I try to keep this in mind, but it's hard to excuse some of Kevin's rudeness and disrespectfulness even while I try to have compassion and empathy for what he's going through. Today, after he told Michael to "Mind your own business!" and then stomped off, took his anger and frustration out on everyone in his path, and then slammed his bedroom door, I stormed into his room and said what parents around the world say to their teenagers: "YOU'RE GROUNDED!!!"

The Mom Phenomenon

Tell me if you recognize this:

I have become fetcher-of-all-things, giver-of-all-things, getter-of-all-things, fulfiller-of-all-requests, and answerer-of-all-questions to my kids. I'm serious. When any of my kids want something, I seem to be their go-to person, no matter how much closer in proximity they happen to be at any given time to Dad. It blows my mind.

Let me give a couple of true-life examples just to illustrate:

Recently, Daisy was sitting at the kitchen table, right next to Daddy. I was across the house in another room. Suddenly I hear, "Mommy! Can I have something to drink?" I ignored her, thinking, well, Michael is sitting right there (he was busy with something, but he was right there, literally inches away from her!). But she persisted. "Mommy! Can I have some juice?" Ignore. Then, "Mommy! I'm thirsty!" I think Michael had said to her, "Hang on a minute," but she ignored him, because apparently it is MY duty to serve her.

Today, just a little while ago, in fact, Kevin pulled a package of tortillas out of the kitchen cupboard. Michael was standing right next to him. Right next to him! I was across the room, feeding the baby. Kevin says, "Mom? Are these tortillas still good?"

WTF?

This kind of thing happens all the time. Michael would argue my assertion that it happens all the time, but I've been pointing out these incidents to him, to which he responds with, "They love you! Doesn't it feel nice to be needed?" Um, sure. Right. I guess. Is that what it is? Huh.

And it's not as if Michael doesn't do stuff for the kids. He does! He cooks, he feeds them, he cleans up after them, he plays with them - it's not as if he's an absentee parent. So what is it about me that makes the kids lay their requests and demands at my feet first?

Letting Go

Something that became painfully clear to me a long time ago is that parenting is all about letting go. From the moment your children are born, it's a slow but steady progression of letting go. Sometimes it's a physical letting go, sometimes an emotional letting go, and sometimes it's letting go of control. No matter what, letting go is really hard.

I'm dealing with a letting-go issue with Annabelle right now. I've written a number of times before about her penchant for pulling her hair out. While she's never been formally diagnosed with trichotillomania, I've pretty much come to assume that that's the label most appropriately attached to her habit. It started with hair-twirling when she was less than a year old and evolved into hair-pulling over time. It usually coincides with finger sucking; she sucks the two middle fingers of one hand while twirling and pulling out her hair in a specific spot on her scalp with the index finger on her other hand.

For more than a year now I've been determined to break her of this habit, because ultimately, it breaks my heart to see the destruction she wreaks on that beautiful head of golden curls. Also, I feel like I've failed her in some monumental way: what sort of issues does she carry around inside, not knowing any way to manage them except by pulling her own hair out? Whether this guilt is actually warranted or not, I really don't know. I've tried and tried to figure it out. Does she have anxiety? I wouldn't characterize her as an especially anxious child, but maybe I'm just not recognizing it? Is she unhappy? For the most part, she's always been very fun-loving and affectionate and a little clown. Is it chemical? Does she need to be on medication? Does she have ADD/ADHD? Both her preschool teacher and her kindergarten teacher have assured me that they don't have any reason to think she has any kind of attention deficit issue, and that she's well-behaved and focused at school. Is it a manifestation of Middle Child Syndrome and feeling lost in the shuffle of a lot of siblings? (There's that guilt again . . .)

I haven't come up with any answers. What I have done is try my damnedest to control her hair-pulling habit, and along with that, her finger-sucking habit, since the two go hand-in-hand (and they both drive me crazy). I have visions of her growing up into an adult with these same compulsions still driving her, and maybe worse ones as well. I've been determined to force her to Stop. Pulling. Her. Hair. Out. I've done this by taping up her sucking and pulling fingers with first-aid tape or bandaids. At all times, day and night. Because the minute her fingers are free, there she goes, twirling/pulling and sucking. Then I get on her case. I demand that she Stop It Right Now. I yell at her for it. Because it makes me feel angry and helpless.

It's become such a point of contention between us, and I truly hate what it's doing to our relationship. She's five. We shouldn't have any points of contention this big for at least another six or seven years!

The truth is, the taping works, sort of. It's a band-aid solution, though (so to speak). As long as her fingers are taped up, she doesn't pull. But getting the tape on is always a battle because she hates it, and she takes it off on the sly much of the time anyway. And I've begun to realize that having tape on her fingers stigmatizes her at school. I've seen other kids ask her why she has tape or band-aids on her fingers and I've seen her look down and quietly say, "I don't want to talk about that." Rip my heart out.

So I decided a few weeks ago to stop making her wear tape on her fingers at school. She insists that she doesn't pull or suck at school anyway, and I tend to believe her. She's plenty busy at school; it's at home that she has down time and it's when she's idle that her fingers go into her mouth and her hair.

However, I've still been trying to control her behavior by nagging her about it, by demanding that she STOP IT! when I catch her doing it.

Ugh. It's just miserable. And after about six months of her hair growing out, I had to cut it again to even it all out because of the pulling.

It's not that she doesn't look adorable with short hair (she does!), and it's not that I have anything against short hair on girls (I don't!). It's the reason we have to keep it short that kills me.

Lucky for me, though, I have a friend, Megan, who is in a very similar boat. She has a little girl who pulls too (and she has another little girl who has Ds who may be Finn's future wife, or at least girlfriend). Imagine my shock (and relief!) when I discovered that Annabelle is not the only child on the planet with this strange and frustrating habit. So Megan and I commiserate. Recently she sent me this article, which makes a lot of sense to me, or at least is worth a shot.

So we're trying a new tactic here. When Michael or I see Annabelle sucking her fingers and/or twirling/pulling her hair, we calmly take her to the place we have designated to be her Pulling/Sucking Place (a chair in the playroom), we sit her down and encourage her to suck and pull to her heart's content for the next 10 minutes. She's not allowed to pull or suck anywhere else but in that special spot, but once there, she's encouraged to pull and suck as much as possible. Outside of that, we don't talk about it - we don't talk about her hair or her pulling or her sucking.

It's tricky. It was tricky choosing a place to put her, first of all. The article suggested a bathroom, but that's really not practical in our house because with as many people who live here, the bathroom is likely to be occupied at any given time. After trying out a couple different places in the house, we settled on the chair in the playroom as the most practical. Another tricky aspect is the fact that when we take her to that spot, she tends to react as if she's being put in a time-out (i.e., punished), which is not the message I want her to be getting. It's more like, "Okay, you want/need to do this, here's a private place for you to do it to your heart's content." Tricky, also, is not talking about her hair or her habits outside of taking her to her special place - in other words, not drawing attention, not giving it that power - even when she twists a corkscrew into the front of her hair making herself resemble a unicorn (I'm not kidding).

Of course this is all really just a tactic to hopefully, eventually, get her to stop. But I have to accept that she may not stop. And that's the trickiest part of all: trying to let go of this. To let her own this, to give the control back to her. I can't make her stop, no matter how hard I try. I can only help her if she wants me to help her, and I will be here to help her, but ultimately, it's up to her.

Freedom

Kevin approached me the other day telling me that he wants to volunteer at the local public library this summer with his friend. What a fabulous idea. Then he said, "D's mom said he'll be able to ride his bike to the library . . . do you think I'll be able to?" "Wow, ummm, I don't know," I said, picturing in my mind the blind hills they'd have to navigate and the busy street they'd have to cross.

***

Yesterday, late afternoon, Kevin told me he was headed to the schoolyard with his basketball to shoot some hoops. "By yourself?" I asked. "Yeah, Mom," he said, rolling his eyes. "Ummm . . . well, okay . . . I guess," I said, adding "You know, I know you're thirteen now and everything, but the rule about talking to strangers still applies, okay?" "I know, Mom," he said, rolling his eyes again.

***

Today, Kevin tagged along with me to run some errands, and in the truck he said, "Hey, Mom, do you think it's okay if I get a pocketknife?" "What?!" I replied, a little horrified. "What in the world do you need a knife for?" "Well, you know, just for stuff. It would be handy sometimes," he said. "And Dad thinks it would be okay." What?!? He does?!?

***

Do you see what's happening here? He's growing up. My god. What happened to the little boy who held my hand when we crossed the street? What happened to the little boy who carried a stuffed goose and a stuffed parrot - his buddies - everywhere with him? What happened to the little boy who was convinced that there were monsters lurking in his closet, and who believed that the spray bottle of water I squirted into his closet really was anti-monster spray?

I'm clearly having a bit of trouble with this whole growing up and letting go thing. I mean, Kevin is a really great kid; he's never gotten into any trouble and has never given us any reason not to trust him. But it's not him I don't trust, it's the world. I've probably been a little on the overprotective side of parenting, not letting him walk home from school on his own until he was 11, not letting him go more than a couple blocks from home on foot or on his bike, still not letting him play outside after dark, that kind of thing.

I worry.

But I'm also starting to realize that we've got to let him spread his wings a little. If I shelter him too much, he'll never learn how to handle himself, and I might risk sabotaging the very things I've tried so hard to foster: his safety and good judgment. I know from personal experience that suffocating a kid with rules and restrictions pretty much guarantees rebellion and foolish behavior.

Ahhh, this parenting thing. It never gets any easier, does it?

What's that line from that old .38 Special song?

Hold on loosely,

But don't let go.

How Paper Snowmen Became the Bane of My Existence

This week, in addition to the usual homework of journal-writing exercises and worksheets, the twins each brought home two paper plates accompanied by a note from their teacher that they were to create snow-people out of them.

Oh fun! An art project! (Imagine sarcastic tone.)

Okay, let me just say that I really, really, really, really do not agree with or understand the point of kindergarten homework. It's kindergarten! Sure, it's an important learning year - my goodness, they're learning to read, which is amazing. But they're still little, immature kids who tire easily, get bored easily, and in my estimation, should not be made to sit down and do more school work at home after having already spent several hours at school. And honestly, I don't want to spend the time I have with them breathing down their necks, setting timers, and entering into battle with them over homework. It's kindergarten! And we have plenty of things to battle over already. Like putting their dirty clothes in the hamper and eating their vegetables and not picking their noses.

However, since I don't have the time, the energy, or the resources to fight the system and change an entire policy, this is how we spend our afternoons: doing homework. And it's almost never a pleasant experience for anyone involved.

The snowman project started out okay. I stapled their paper plates together and cheerfully laid out a plate with raisins, Cheerios, and various sundry with which to create their snow people. I refuse to become too involved - I'm not going to decorate their snowmen for them (even if I could do a fabulous job). I don't want to be their teacher, I want to be their mom, so I try to just play the role of a consultant. Still, I end up being referee, because it was only a matter of minutes before they were fighting over glue and raisins. It escalated to the point that it was clear that we needed to put the snowmen away for the day (and the girls still had their journal pages to write and their worksheets to do).

This scene played out exactly the same for three afternoons running. Actually, Daisy, who is more self-directed than Annabelle, finished her "snow princess" on the second afternoon. Annabelle dawdled and became frustrated and demanded more time, more things with which to decorate her snow person, and I steadily grew to hate that damn snow man/person. I was extremely close to committing snowmanslaughter and chucking it into the garbage more than once. Every afternoon ended in tears and a mess of glue and glitter and stuff at the kitchen table. Finally this afternoon, I called it a day on the whole snow man project. Enough is enough. Here are the final results:

Annabelle's - the one that took THREE afternoons - is the one on the left. I don't know if you can tell, but it's almost bare. I'm almost (but not quite) embarrassed to send this to school with her tomorrow. It's not that she's not bright, and it's not that she doesn't have the ability - it was just a frustrating, stressful proposition. And honestly? Honestly, I have wracked my brain, and I still don't get the point of it. What skills or knowledge was this supposed to reinforce?

I'd like to tell her teacher how tough this was. How utterly stressful. I've already talked to her about the problems I have getting Annabelle to cooperate with homework, and she suggested some strategies which were helpful for a while, but Annabelle is balking even at those now. And I'm afraid that if I keep bringing up the problems Annabelle has with homework, she's going to be labeled a Problem Child, and that label is going to follow her for her entire school career. Okay, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself.

But really, what is the point of homework for kindergartners???

Smells Like Teen Spirit

It's official: we now have a teenager on our hands.

In my head, I hear all the usual plaintive laments: where did the time go? It seems like just yesterday . . .

However cliche those sentiments are, they're true and very real to me suddenly. Kevin was a baby, and then I blinked, and here he is, a teenager. If I close my eyes and concentrate hard enough, I can almost convince myself that I'm back there, when Kevin was tiny and sweet, and all mine, his personality yet to develop and be discovered. I can almost touch it. I remember thinking at certain times when he was very small, "I wish I could put this time in a box and pack it away, so that in the future I could take it out and re-experience it over and over." But of course, life doesn't allow you to do that.

Kevin's babyhood, and a good part of his childhood are gone forever. And suddenly I wonder, did I kiss and hug

him enough? Did I read enough stories to him? Did I cuddle him enough? Because that time is gone.

For the last week or so, Michael and I have been taking the video camera out and about with a project in mind: to video tape random people wishing Kevin a happy birthday. We burned it onto a DVD to give to Kevin for his birthday. We got about 30 people, both friends and strangers, saying happy birthday and imparting words of wisdom to Kevin as he embarks on being a teenager. A couple days ago, Michael and I took turns taping each other leaving messages for Kevin. I didn't realize how significant this all is to me until Michael turned the video camera on me, and I suddenly broke down crying. That came out of left field! But it just hit me - my baby is turning thirteen. He's really growing up.

I suspect that this is going to be a year full of changes. I won't be surprised if Kevin grows to be at least as tall as me over the next year. I'm sure he will be dealing with some other physical changes, if the mood swings he already has are any indication. I know that he and his dad and I will continue to butt heads - he's at the beginning of a long process of trying to figure out who he is and what his place in the world is, so I know that clashing with us and testing the boundaries constantly are all part of that. I remember my teenage years as not being easy ones, and there is a part of me that feels sad that Kevin will be experiencing the confusion of not being a child, but not being an adult either.

He's thirteen today. Thirteen. I am very proud of the person he has grown into, the young man he is becoming - proud in a way that cannot take credit, but more in a way that feels a full heart and a sense of satisfaction. Kevin is a great kid. He is loving and loyal, he's brave and will take a stand for what he believes in, even at the risk of being unpopular. He's a good friend to his friends, and a good brother to his siblings. He's sensitive and compassionate, and he has big dreams for himself. These are exactly the things I've always wanted for all of my kids.