teenagers – Mamachanic

This Grinch’s Guide to Surviving the Holidays

I learned today, thanks to Facebook memories, that my Mamachanic website is seven years old! Sadly, it has been a bit neglected during the past year maybe because I’ve been writer blocked, not to mention year two of what is now an endemic (meaning never ENDING), two teenagers, a new puppy etc. so here’s a short and sweet one for anyone looking for a quick read.

Trying to work on my website with my new puppy/assistant

I have long been a Grinch, not a little bit but full on scowls at the holidays capital GRINCH. So Grinchy in fact, that this year when my husband surprised me with a puppy, he and my mom had hidden in a “box full of Christmas ornaments” I asked if we could just skip it (the holidays that is) before opening the lid to find the teeniest little black pug I’ve ever fallen in love with!❤️

The tiniest little bambushka you’ve ever seen

It started for me very young, Christmas Day was spent cooking then traveling to large groups at extended relative’s houses where I can only remember cigarette smoke, anger, sweet pickles and football games in the air rather than love. When you grow up on the teenage single mother struggle bus, money is usually an issue and lavish Christmas’ aren’t an option. So the dread that surrounds the holidays, the tightening in my chest as soon as the Halloween high wears off is decades old. I asked my mom around ten years old why we spent the holidays in situations that made us miserable and she agreed so we stopped going to the larger gatherings but the Grinch seed had been sown.

Being a parent during the season with babies, toddlers, or younger children was it own new stress. I found a type of joy in their surprised happy faces on Christmas morning but did I mention to the stress? So many sleepless Christmas Eve nights assembling, wrapping, creating morning magic-the fun was almost swallowed by the stress. Now, having teenagers, it’s not really so much about the wish lists or “opshins” but more about $$$$$$$ C.R.E.A.M.- literally Cash Rules Everything Around Me but it’s certainly less migraine-inducing than the early days.

*My son’s Christmas wishlist many years ago-Options=opshins*

Honestly, I spend my holidays now with the family I’ve chosen- after years of searching and sitting through tension so I don’t know why I’m still so grinchy. I’m offering some suggestions to find enjoyment in what can be an absolute nightmare time for some.

Treat Yourself

Seriously, if the pandemic has proven anything, it’s that we are a selfish country/planet. As your number one fan hopefully, you should be treating yourself right. I’ve been going to Christmas markets with my girlfriends joking that we’re only buying stuff for ourselves but honestly I’ve spent years going to the stores buying cute kids clothes (mostly because I hated my body and they way clothes fit me-so it’s much easier to shop for scrawny band aid sprawled limbs) so I’m cool buying things for me, even if it is way too many earrings because they always fit. If I go overboard on massages or whatever I want during December, so be it. Moms like Christmas presents too, especially ones chosen and procured themselves. My husband is obsessed with wanting “actual” presents to wrap and put under the tree whereas I am a gift card lover! I like to have a handful of gift cards splayed like a poker game or better yet, watch this girl Go Fish. He says he can’t wrap gift cards and I disagree. Don’t yuck my yum! Don’t ask me what I want then complain that the answer is gift cards to here, here and here. Which leads me to my next suggestion.

*Manicure in a festive green or a Grinch’s nails*?

Don’t Push It

Which can be construed several ways. Don’t push it, like don’t overdue yourself trying to make a holiday “perfect” or trying to please everyONE. Remember #1- ^^^You’re Number one-make SELF CARE a priority.
Also don’t push it, like don’t force the cheer. Everyone celebrates differently, whether it’s weeks of buildup with an extravagant spread or take out food and watching the Die Hard trilogy. It’s been a rough couple of years and some people feel too beaten up to feel festive. Some people could be grieving a loss or simply celebrating a holiday completely different from your own. Another thing, don’t push yourself if this year’s level of cheer is on the low side. When the world is a bit of a dumpster fire, it’s completely normal to feel less Mrs. Claus enthusiastic than in previous years. Beating yourself up over feeling less spirit this year is counter-productive. Embrace your newfound Grinchiness and survive the end of the year anyway possible.

Ditch the Scale

As previously mentioned, this is not my favorite body but stressing about the tenfold of calories I should maybe avoid is unhelpful and only adds to my Grinchiness. Instead I will gleefully imbibe from Halloween to NYE whatever my heart desires as another present to myself, from au gratin potatoes, to countless dinner rolls and a wonderful variety of Christmas cookies.

I wish there was an age where the teenage insecurities about one’s appearance simply evaporated but if it exists, it’s after 45 because I haven’t reached it yet. I could never quote whatever stupid model said, “Nothing tastes as good as being skinny feels.” because I’ve never felt skinny but I can certainly testify to plenty of things tasting better than skinny so I say dig in!

Reimagine Traditions

Not everybody has to have the perfect tree, or attend midnight mass, or spend alternating holidays between his family and yours. Does it spark joy? If not, ditch it! One of the wonderful things about being a GROWN UP is the ability to make better decisions for yourself. If traveling to so and so’s house to tiptoe over touchy topics and eat dried up crudités does not spark joy, stop doing it! Create your own traditions- even if that tradition is not denoting any specialness to the holiday. Or skipping town to skip Christmas on a tropical beach somewhere soaking up rays instead of shivering. Or adding potato chips to the dessert tray for your annual fondue party. Any way that you can find to survive the holidays, do it! I understand, finally!!! that even knowing why I became a Grinch and knowing that I can now celebrate the holidays in whatever fashion I want- I’ll still cover my ears when I hear my first Christmas song(usually in November sadly/soul-crushingly)

I will still feel a pressing weight during the last six weeks of any year. It’s like telling someone with depression to go outside for some non-existent sunshine cure. I will always be at least part Grinch but I’ve decided to EMBRACE it. And as usual, I don’t have all the answers, just a few suggestions I’m trying this year to shake my Grinchy funk. Here’s hoping everyone finds some joy this season !

danabones December 14, 2021 Uncategorized#whitetrash #momlife #monstertrucks #pinkfloyd, parenthood, teenagers, teens 4 Read more >

Music is Medicine

Once again, it’s been months since I’ve worked on this project. I write about how therapeutic writing is then slack off for months. Maybe I’m a bit uninspired in the strange often despairing year we’re somehow slogging through, but I’m still seeking solutions.

“Cause I can hardly see what’s in front of me
These days and those days too
God, where have you been?”
-Where Have You Been by Manchester Orchestra

As what they’re calling an “essential” worker, I’ve been at it none stop since mid-March, actually busier at work, which is a good thing. I’m happy to be employed with two teens at home that mostly take of themselves, albeit very messily, but this means no working from home or even having the option to quarantine. After plugging away what felt like endlessly, I decided, pretty much at my husband’s insistence to plan a getaway or reschedule our cancelled spring break trip to Florida. Florida!!!! Yes, I heard the cries of alarm, with their infection numbers skyrocketing and they’re refusal to believe scientists or take any precautions for spreading the virus but I wasn’t going to Miami, Tampa or Jacksonville. We were headed to a small town on the gulf coast with a population much smaller than Denver’s. I’ve pretty much been out in the world non-stop from the get go without infection or the option to hide from it so I needed a break. The day before we left, my dogs ganged up on the oldest in a viscious fight that left all three bloody. Probably irritable from the multiple ninety degree days and tired of hearing friends balk at my trip plans, threatening to avoid me upon my return for fear of my cooties, I sat in my newly revamped backyard and completely broke down. My husband was right (shh don’t tell him). It was time to GTFO!!!

“These mountains that you are carrying, you were only supposed to climb.”
Unknown

Nine days in Florida, third wheeling with my daughter and her girlfriend, stuffing our faces at every opportunity with seven trips to Rita’s Frozen Custard, three massages, and a swimming pool almost completely to ourselves, I began to feel like myself again.

I also remembered another piece of advice from Hoping Mechanisms which was music. Music is medicine. And while I’d been listening in my headphones, I hadn’t seen any live music or even watched bands streaming so I joined the Patreon of one of my favorite bands, Manchester Orchestra.

It’s revitalizing me. I used to go to 50-60 shows per year and I hadn’t seen a band play in four months. (Side Note: Post Malone’s livestream of Nirvana covers literally gave me life! To the point where I’m using words like ‘literally’ and “gave me life” like a teenage fangirl because live music from artists I love makes me feel 15 again and ALIVE!)

Manchester Orchestra’s Patreon (paid subscription with bonus material for ultimate concert-starved fans) included multiple live sets recorded in their homes. After watching the first one, I commented on their forum like a gushing groupie:

“So tight always!!!! ‘My daughter she barely speaks….To me’ ( a lyric from their song Pensacola) I took my daughter to see you guys at Summer Camp in Seattle a couple years ago. Last Thanksgiving, I took her to L.A. to see your Mean Everything To Nothing tour. ( They played their second album start to finish and it was transcendent) I get chills just thinking about that show, best all year and I saw the Raconteurs thrice (ew, David!) Best show maybe ever, the whole audience knew every word, all as passionate and in love with the album as we were. My daughter, she’s fifteen, and she SPEAKS to me, sharing in my fangirling and love for your band.”

My asshole teen daughter, fresh from a jaunt to FL with her girlfriend, spoiled brat that she is, teased me for my gushing comment but their live video made me feel unwilted. Dorky, I know and maybe a hint of Annie Wilkes’ Number One Fan but I LOVE these guys.

The first time I saw Manchester Orchestra was at Lollapalooza in Chicago 2011. I knew them from their song “I’ve Got Friends” and their set was in the early afternoon so I booked a morning flight so I wouldn’t miss them. All my friends flew in later but I wasn’t waiting around so I went to Grant Park alone and made my way to the front of the crowd. It was raining a bit and I was alone in a crowd of tens of thousands listening to this band sing about having friends,( please don’t think about low places because I loathe country music.) Somehow I didn’t feel alone. They played it last, even responding to the drunk bros chanting for “I’ve Got Friends” yeah yeah we’re gonna play it guys, it’s the hit so it’ll be last duh! Andy’s voice and his wit and the band’s absolute togetherness….I was hooked. I saw them multiple times after from Chicago again to almost every venue in my hometown Denver including the Auraria campus parking lot, to Riotfest in Denver and Chicago, to Summer Camp in Seattle. I saw them at Summit Music Hall and their opener was delayed so Andy Hull, their lead singer, opened for them playing some solo stuff. When some drunk guy tried to heckle him, shouting “Bring on Manchester!” Andy replied with “Do you know who I am?” I missed seeing Lorde and others the first night of the Life Is Beautiful music festival in Las Vegas because Manchester Orchestra was playing Friday night in Denver. I saw them open for Brand New at the Fillmore in Denver and actually left a few songs into Brand New’s set because I was there for the opener, my faves! (though I subsequently learned to love Brand New too and kick myself for leaving that show early)

Anyhow, I’m rambling. I tend to. Thank you for reading my love letter to this band. Don’t forget music is healing in this shit show/dumpster fire we’re calling 2020. Use any crutch you can find to get through this even if this means deleting “friends” to preserve your own mental well-being. Not to get political because damn! that could be a forty page post in and of itself and I’m too tired for that rabbit hole tonight but please PLEASE wear a mask, believe in science, send any helpful coping tips you have my way and maybe don’t be an asshole?

danabones July 27, 2020 Uncategorized2020, festivals, manchester orchestra, music, teenagers, wellness 5 Read more >

Halfway to 90

This week I will be turning 44. I wanted to put an exclamation at the end of that sentence but I’m really not feeling it. Somehow I’m shocked that the years keep flying by and mortified to be “over the hill” but I know I’m not alone so I created a checklist to commiserate with my fellow Gen Xers tired of being called Boomers.

You don’t look a day over forty….
You look a million days over forty!
-Unknown

If you opted for “real” health insurance this year to the tune of $475 per month just for you without a ridiculous $8000 deductible after spending 2019 seeing multiple specialists including a urologist, a podiatrist, an osteopath etc. because your body is literally falling apart and you can’t believe how you used to take for granted waking up every morning refreshed without feeling like a creaky Tin Man stepping out of bed with aches and pains, (sometimes new ones acquired mysteriously while sleeping) you might be halfway to 90.

Silly side note: After developing rather painful plantar fasciitis as one does in their forties with multiple podiatrist visits to clear the pain up including sending sound waves into my heel, cortisone shots into the arch of my foot and oral anti-inflammatories , my husband collapsed to the floor one morning in a puddle of debilitating pain far worse than anything I had previously experienced, almost requiring crutches for the first painful steps waking up and stretching. I dubbed his ailment MANtar fasciitis because it was clearly ten times worse than whatever I had already gone through.

Are you there God? It’s me, 40 something Margaret.
Listen-boys, bras, periods? I now realize I actually want NONE of them.
-4boysmothers.com

If you’re starting to notice you suddenly have old lady hands, liver spots included and the skin on your neck resembles that thing dangling on turkeys but you still have that oily T-zone area that has given you zits since your long ago teen years and clearly will continue to follow you to your grave, you might be halfway to 90.

If four vodka sodas at Friday night’s Yacht Rock Revue have scrambled your brain in new, exciting hangover ways or, on the flip side, if your most exciting weekend plans are the windshield replacement you scheduled in your driveway Saturday at noon, you might be halfway to 90.

Welcome to your 30’s. A cauliflower substitute has replaced all the carbs you love and the only joy you get is watching shows about murder.
Welcome to your 40’s. Eating cauliflower didn’t make a goddamn difference and now you root for the killer in most of the shows.
Welcome to your 50’s. Hairs as white as cauliflower and you might actually be a suspect in one of these shows.
-Hot Mess Mom

If your crankiness is suddenly on a hair trigger where any of the following can easily send you into a blind rage:

Auto-flushing toilets that splash the seat with disgusting toilet water to sit in or splash your ass if they flush while you remain seated
Idiot drivers without taillights and only daytime running lights on the highway at night because they can’t take the time to learn how to operate their shiny new vehicle
Toilet stalls so small you have to straddle the seat to close the door behind you
Teenagers or any reminder of your wasted youth

……you might be halfway to 90.

I wish I had some advice to give or maybe a silver lining but its looking a little bleak. At least, I suppose, I survived middle school and have retirement to someday look forward to.

danabones February 23, 2020 Uncategorized40, Boomer, genX, teenagers 2 Read more >

Raising Teenagers

I read a hilarious blog this week about teaching middle school written in the old Jeff Foxworthy style “you might be a redneck if….insert punchline.” I’m well aware that teaching any grade is definitely not the career for me as I’m currently struggling under the burden of managing only two children. A classroom of thirty plus hormonal walking time bombs is the stuff of my nightmares. I am also certainly never going to be a stand up comedian when I grow up but I do have a list of my own to share. I wish it was chockful of helpful advice, but I’m just winging it like the rest of you bewildered parents, often poorly. In fact, send your helpful tips or secrets my way please!!!

“Teenagers scare the living shit out of me
They could care less, as long as someone’ll bleed”
Teenagers by My chemical romance

If your New Year’s Eve “shenanigans” entailed making sure a boisterous group of freshman and your middle school son did not get high OR pregnant in your basement, raising teenagers might be for you.

If the sad realization has dawned on you that you’re only good for cash or rides, raising teenagers might be for you.

If your fifteen year old daughter recommends an adults only vacation when you mention the desire to escape the holidays next year with a trip to Mexico because she no longer desires to travel with her parents or little brother and also foolishly believes she’ll somehow be left unsupervised with the house to herself for days on end, raising teenagers might be for you. This, of course, after her not cheap trip to Spain last summer with her Spanish class ended with an illustrious and I’m sure scenic ambulance ride to a Chicago emergency room when she fainted and seized in the custom’s line after imbibing multiple energy drinks on the long flight back to America to the tune of $4300 in medical bills which sadly didn’t even dent her yearly deductible and also was not covered under our accident insurance policy because teenage stupidity is not an accident.

If you reluctantly check your ear lobe for a drop of blood, certain your ears must be bleeding after hearing your son (once your baby) proudly referring to his penis as his COCK, raising teenagers might be for you.

If you find yourself searching for a new pediatrician after the tongue lashing you gave your current doctor’s billing department for the $150 “surgery” charge on your daughter’s well visit bill for removing gravel from her ear, raising toddlers might be for you. Just kidding! Raising teenagers might be for you! She is fifteen not two and supposedly smart enough not to stick a blueberry up her nose but somehow wound up with rocks in her ear like she’d just left the sand box. During her checkup, including a routine hearing check, the nurse spotted some dirt in her ear. Without consulting her father in the waiting room for permission to operate on a minor, the nurse took maybe fifty seconds to scoop the offending dirt from her ear canal and now I’m looking at a bill for $150 with descriptive words like incision and surgery though neither actually took place. Don’t even get me started on how wack our healthcare system is, but DAMN! Teenagers are expensive!

If you spent your Christmas present massage time brainstorming ideas for your practically abandoned blog because that is the first extended stretch of peace you’ve had since barely surviving hell week unscathed and you halfway convinced your husband and your marriage counselor that writing is your therapy when they ganged up on you repeatedly agreeing that you need to see a therapist of your own…., raising teenagers might be for you.

If hell week used to mean however many days the kids are off of school for the holidays but has somehow been extended from Halloween night when your son started the evening crying alone in his room refusing to trick-or-treat because his so-called “friends” with their matching sound cloud rapper costumes decided to blacklist him for this most special holiday and exclude him from any of their plans, raising teenagers might be for you. This year hell week started Halloween night and stretched all the way to January 7th when the kids finally went back to school. Honestly, it might last six more years until he’s eighteen or never end at all. I can just tell you the last several months have been a nightmare of “mean boys” and my son’s stomped on self esteem, and my insane restraint in not throat punching several pubescent boys who have no concept of how hurtful it is or more likely believe it’s hilarious to constantly make plans with 4 out of 5 members of the old boy band even going so far as to say “my parents don’t like you” or “there’s not enough room in the car” then waving goodbye and shouting sorry out the window as one oblivious mom picks them all up from the mall except my broken hearted child. And I was foolishly worried about my daughter and the “mean girls”. Of course, amidst all of this life lesson learning about how to make real friends and how I don’t remember most of the assholes I went to middle school or high school with, we had to somehow survive Thanksgiving, Christmas, New year’s and all the BS and stress that comes with my absolute Scroogey least favorite time of the year.

If reliving this teenage drama is ripping the Band aid off your own unresolved scars from barely surviving adolescence as you experience with your children new and exciting forms of torture designed to squish hopes and dreams like the blackheads dotting their nose creases, raising teenagers might be for you.

“Days like this I don’t know what to do with myself, all day, and all night.I wander the halls, along the walls and under my breath I say to myself-I need fuel to take flight.”
Sullen Girl by Fiona Apple

If you have decided that Snapchat is the bane of every parent’s existence with it’s auto deleting secret text messages and group chats, to it’s super helpful map that can show you the location of all your “friends” especially when the four of them are clearly at the mall food court after telling your lonely son they were too tired to hang, raising teenagers might be for you.

If you were stupid enough to “power up” to multiple children instead of having just one like your smart friends or having none like your even smarter friends so you’ve spent the last fifteen years cutting cupcakes in half or evening out portions because as many times as you tell them that life isn’t fair they refuse to believe you and insist on equals amount of everything, raising teenagers might be for you. This is especially frustrating during the holidays when you stupidly try to shop equally so they each have the same amount of presents under the Christmas tree you could not even be bothered to put up this year when all either of them actually wanted was frickin CASH!!!!! C.R.E.A.M.

If you have become deaf to their snarky remarks of “OK boomer” to anything, literally anything you say to them because you know adamantly that though you often feel white haired and ancient, you are most certainly Generation X, raising teenagers might be for you.

If you are far too embarassing to enter the mall or Laser Quest or any other place you so graciously provided a ride to and must instead duck nonchalantly or park a block away, raising teenagers might be for you. This also extends to entering their school, the horror! Though the last time I walked my son into the office, I was greeted by Mr. Franklin, the Dean of Culture saying,” Jameson! Just the person I wanted to see!” Meaning the last thing I wanted to hear as he continued into a diatribe about how my son’s behavior in yesterday’s Language Arts class was this close to a referral and how his distractions are actually derailing the teacher from helping the 28 other students in her class from understanding her lesson. Probably the real reason my son didn’t want me entering the school to sign in his excused tardy, not my bed head and gym outfit. Sidenote: I’ve nicknamed him Fresh Start Franklin because that is the lame slogany BS he spouts anytime Jameson is in trouble, we will forget about this infraction and begin new with a fresh start tomorrow instead of constantly hawkeying my son waiting for the next miss step even going so far as to accuse him of graffiti on the playground which Jameson denied. His innocence was confirmed after the security tapes were reviewed but let’s keep spewing that fresh start diatribe until maybe Franklin himself starts to believe it. See also my blog post about raising a troubled child or coping with the strains of an ADHD diagnosis and how to best manage your child’s medication schedule so he can swim instead of sink in middle school. Just kidding! I have no frickin clue what I’m doing on a daily basis, certainly haven’t written that post yet haha!

If the majority of your posts to Intagram or Facebook are on #flashbackfriday or #throwbackthursday or even #waybackwednesday because you are shocked by how old you are and more scathingly how old your babies became seemingly overnight and they’re both such assholes now the only photos you feel like sharing are the ones when they were still your sweet baby angels (angles) not the extremely uncooperative scowls in any recent pictures. My favorite caption becoming #beforethewar because it does feel like you’re negotiating a war zone anytime the kids are in the same room and you’re so thrilled you decided on more than one child so they would have someone to play with ie. scream at and loathe vs. the pretty lonely only child yet quiet and battle-free childhood you experienced, raising teenagers might be for you.

If you get a kick out of the startled look on your husband’s face when his phone is finally off silent and he is blasted by the Office theme song as his new ringtone courtesy of your hilarious daughter. Or that week when he didn’t receive any text message notifications and almost bought a new phone before you discovered your son had silenced his notification setting in his phone as a silly prank or a Cat’s in the Cradle cry for more of his father’s attention, raising teenagers might be for you.

“When you comin’ home?
Son, I don’t know when
We’ll get together then.’
Cat’s In The Cradle by Harry Chapin

If you are praying that your children will decide on a trade like welder or automotive technician (like Mom) because you believe that college is a sham and surviving four to five years of date rape and alcohol poisoning to graduate with thousands in student debt and the skills for a $15 per hour job is a bleak futue , raising teenagers might be for you. They certainly aren’t living in your basement for their entire adulthood

If you’re ready to discover a hairy drained bathtub without a peep or even the thought to ask you, their wise mother’s advise on the leg shaving right of passage, raising teenagers might be for you.

If you marvel at how you are somehow even still alive after remembering all the life threatening stupid things you did in your life as you lay awake worrying all night because your genius daughter is not smart enough to keep her “lifeblood” phone charged or to touch base, raising teenagers might be for you. Speaking of that particular favorite (and only) daughter of mine, she came out to us last year and unlike most gender fluid youth of today, I think she’s the real deal so we’re navigating sleepovers with her 17 year old girlfriend though hubby was reluctant. We have okayed because in her words, “No one is getting pregnant…” but still haven’t figured out how this will be fair to her younger brother when he’s not allowed the same girlfriend sleepover pass because we’re hypocrites or just clueless on how to proceed. If anyone would like to write a guide on What to Expect When You’re Raising a Teenage Lesbian or maybe the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Gay Teen Galaxy, I’d love any kind of advice though I already know DON’T PANIC!

If you’re favorite past time is warring with your daughter because she inherited all your worst traits like extreme stubborness and difficulty apologizing, raising teenagers might be for you.

If you somehow wound up with the cool house that the neighborhood kids like to hang out at with an endless supply of ramen, airsoft guns, and Grand Theft Auto and you prefer to have them all under your roof where you can monitor vs. getting drunk in parks like you once did, raising teenagers might be for you. Though finding your towel racks ripped out of the bathroom wall then gingerly replaced like you won’t notice the whole contraption falling to the floor the first time you grab a towel to dry off post-shower or cleaning resin off your bathroom sink because your children’s friends sometimes ignore your drug-free house policy and think the bathroom beneath the master bedroom is the ideal place to sneak a toke are some downfalls to hosting. Also, 3/4s of your jar of sleep inducing melatonin gummies goes missing because teens think they’re worth swiping like Mama’s Little Helper and you soon figure out what should be hidden.

If you had a lame birthday late in the school year like February and it felt like 1000 years passed before you finally turned sixteen and got your driver’s license. Then you were stoked for your daughter to have an early birthday in October so technically she could be one of the first drivers in her grade and maybe finally help out by schlepping your son around a bit too but she’s so GD lazy that it’s late January and she can’t be bothered to finish the thirty hour driving course necessary to even get her driver’s permit that you purchased back in the fall and now she’ll be LUCKY to get her license by February, raising teenagers might be for you. Though secretly, I’m terrified of the thought of her behind the wheel so I’m not nagging too much.

“Little fifteen, You help her forget
The world outside, You’re not part of it yet
And if you could drive,You could drive her away”
Little 15 by Depeche Mode

Dang! I could probably go on all night. My takeaway is I clearly don’t have any answers. Welcome any suggestions and commiserations and know that I’m not alone this bewilderment that is “raising teenagers”. Assure myself by realizing I somehow made it out the other side without my mother snapping my neck (deservedly) and I value her friendship over most so I hope my kids come back to me eventually.

danabones January 20, 2020 Uncategorizedadvice, daughter, help, parenthood, son, teenagers, teens 8 Read more >

Caterpillar Girl

“Flowing in

And filling up my hopeless heart

Oh never never go”

Caterpillar Girl, The Cure

My daughter just completed her first year of junior high. I think she may have survived unscathed! I admit I was terrified for her. She won’t be thirteen until October so she’s not technically a teen yet. I’m pretty sure everyone dreads having a teenage daughter to some extent. When I lament my fear of her impending teendom on Facebook, I’m met with the usual “karma” quips, basically implying I was a horrible teenager to my Mom so that fear is based on all the payback coming my way. And YES! I was a ridiculous pain in the ass to my poor Mom, wrecking not one but two of her cars by the time I was just a month past sixteen. I’m sure I worried and scared her to death. Truthfully, she doesn’t know the half of it still and why let the cat out of the bag now? I remember one screaming match we were having where she peaked her head through my bedroom door for the last word and I threw a pair of roller skates at her face. Luckily, she slammed the door shut in time to save her teeth. So yes, I was an asshole but I kept my grades at a 3.8 GPA amidst all the drama. I even graduated high school a semester early after Christmas my senior year. Not because I was some kind of whiz kid but more because I just wanted to GTFO! I babysat all the time and got a real job as soon as I was old enough, earning a job credit that allowed me to meet the graduation requirements a semester early. I put myself through an automotive technology school, managed to avoid getting pregnant until I wanted to, married and twenty eight, no teenage pregnancies for me. I stayed out of rehab and jail and feel like I turned out pretty ok. I smoked from age twelve to twenty and was definitely a terror at several points but that’s not why I’m afraid to have a teenager.

“Teenagers scare
The living shit out of me
They could care less
As long as someone’ll bleed
So darken your clothes
Or strike a violent pose
Maybe they’ll leave you alone
But not me”

Teenagers, My Chemical Romance

I know I’m going to lose my daughter for a year or two while she goes through the regular teen angst of hating everyone and thinking her parents are dumb as rocks. She’s already entering her emo phase, clearing everything out of her closet that’s not black or gray, totally convinced this is some kind of uber original thing she’s doing, like I didn’t wear black lipstick and convince myself that Robert Smith was my future husband, writing Dana Smith in my notebooks, hoping my sad poetry would turn into the next Pretty Hate Machine. I know she will eventually come back to me, even if it’s not until she has babies of her own and realizes how much she needs her Mom. I’m not scared to have a teen because she might throw skates at my face. I’m terrified of the innate cruelness in other girls her age and the stupidity of teen boys.

I recently read Amy Poehler’s autobiography, actually I listened to the audio book in my minivan since that is how I imbibe my literature these days. In her chapter on adolescence, she mentions that week every girl goes through when her entire group of friends turn on her, deciding she’s ugly or unpopular until the world somehow shifts back and you’re forgiven whatever bewildering trespass and allowed back into the precious circle. Listening to Amy Poehler, this queen of comedy, confident and hilarious, mention this week that EVERYONE goes through absolutely blew my mind. This very thing happened to me repeatedly. Sometimes the “week” never actually ended and I’d have to scrap my way into a new group of friends or just eat lunch in the library like a pariah. Maybe I thought I was some unique snowflake which just shows you what a narcissist I can be I guess but it was crazily reassuring to me to learn that this happens to a lot of people, even celebrities. Not to play the total victim here, I was absolutely to blame for several of my friendships disintegrating. Teenage emotions and mouths are difficult things to train.

High school was straight up awful for me. You hear these stories or see the movie character who was student council president and homecoming queen or captain of the football team then stayed in their hometown, knocked up the high school sweetheart, eventually drowning their sorrows at the local pub, losing their hair, growing a beer belly while dreaming of their glory days when they peaked in high school. I’ve reassured myself that at last I’d never fall into that stereotype, but there are also guidance counselors or suicide prevention public service announcements that try to explain to teens going through a black hole high school nightmare that this is only a BLIP. These years are only a small piece of a lifetime of learning and growing. Sure, sure whatever…. but I can tell you that even at forty one, I’m still haunted by those years. I still have nightmares that I’m back in high school, that I haven’t been to class in weeks and today is the final, that people are laughing at me or threatening to kick my ass.

I’m pretty sure I could fill a book about my high school career with never ending disappointments and nights with my Walkman (look it up) on repeat with the saddest song ever until I felt cried out enough to leave my room and face my life again. Maybe it would even be therapeutic for me if not a bit heartbreaking. Just to give you a glimpse: I remember one Friday night, my friend’s cousin was to supposed to pick me up for a kegger in the mountains. (Names changed of course) Katie’s cousin had a super cool Jeep Wrangler. I don’t remember his actual name so I’ll call him Jeff. Jeff and Katie had already picked up our friend, Jess, a pretty blonde with a ridiculous rack, especially for a freshman. I gave them the embarrassing directions to my apartment. It felt like everyone at my school had money, a Mom and Dad, siblings and the requisite car as a Sweet Sixteen present so telling someone how to get back to my third story apartment building felt sadly shameful but they managed to find my home. I ran down the stairs and across the parking lot. Jeff looked me up and down then turned to his cousin Katie and told her he didn’t have room in his Jeep to drive me to the party, which she relayed to me as I walked up to the Jeep. They drove away and I walked back up the stairs to my apartment. To be clear, Jeff was a fucking loser that everybody only used for his sweet ride but that only made me feel worse. Even twenty five years later, this memory, one of many, makes me feel worthless. It’s one of the reasons I’m terrified of having a teenage daughter.

My daughter and I recently read the book Thirteen Reason Why, then watched the Netflix series together, Maybe she’s a bit young to be reading about underage drinking and sexual assault. There are a lot of critics out there who say the book is actually causing an increase in teenage suicide rates. Children are discussing with their friends, ‘I have five reasons so far, how about you?” Like having a shitty life or reasons to slit your wrists is some kind of twisted trendy competition. People, teens especially, will always find a way to distort things. I know the author of Thirteen Reasons Why never wanted his book to affect suicide rates. I think it’s a perfect opportunity to start tough conversations with my child, before she locks herself in a bathroom with my scripts. I recently heard a comedian on a podcast talking with his parents about his battles with depression. He struggled with depression on and off for years and hid it from his family. I remember his father’s bewilderment that he kept it a secret. “Why didn’t you ask for help!?” The comedian described the total helplessness he felt but also explained how he felt the need to protect his parents from his depression because he didn’t want to cause them more stress or feel their disappointment and worry even though he knew his parents would move mountains and DO ANYTHING to help him. I remember feeling this self-imposed alienation as a teen. That my Mom couldn’t possibly understand what I was going through and also feeling like she had enough on her plate without taking on my sadness. To her credit, when I asked to switch high schools the second semester of my freshman year, running away from my problems namely a varsity cheerleading squad hounding me with death threats in the hallway, my Mom fully supported my decision. As many mistakes as my Mom thinks she made raising me, a lot of it was me shutting her out. I think as a seventeen year old single mother in the seventies, long before MTV would give you your own reality TV show for getting knocked up, my Mom made the best of what we had, working her ass off. I think, completely un-humbly of course, I turned out pretty awesome. (haha)

“… And these children
that you spit on
as they try to change their worlds
are immune to your consultations.
They’re quite aware
of what they’re going through…”

Changes, David Bowie

Parenting is fucking TERRIFYING! Especially in 2017, with Facebook brag offs and web cams and bath salts and Mango Mussolinis stripping away a recognizable America. I’m constantly convinced I’m messing my kids up and at the same time I’m convinced I’m not messing them up enough. My kids have everything, too much probably but I didn’t become a parent so I could give my children a crappy childhood. I’m pretty certain I didn’t get pregnant as a teenager or become an alcoholic or drug addict despite my genes because of my childhood. I learned from my families mistakes. Should I be exposing my kids to the scarier side of drugs and alcohol so they don’t drift after “something shiny” when they’re older? I’m terrified of losing either of my children down that rabbit hole. I guess I’m just like any other parent, pretty much winging it day to day. Desperately trying to keep this close relationship with my daughter by reading books or watching shows together that keep the conversations going about the scary topics like depression, peer pressure, drugs, sex etc. even as I feel her constantly slipping out of my grip like the slippery whip smart tween she is.

I don’t want to raise assholes either. I try my best to keep them in check when I see any kind of pomposity creeping out. “Do you see all of your classmates up on this mountain snowboarding with us today? Do all your friends have their own dirt bike in the garage?” I’m happy to give my children the best childhood I can while maybe reliving mine a bit but I’m quick to knock them down if I see them acting ugly to each other or anyone. They are also forced to show recognition and appreciation for all that we give them. And yes, my high school career was nightmare inducing and still scarring after ALL these years but full disclosure, I was once a MEAN GIRL too. In junior high, I had my time as the big headed asshole, taunting the new girl who was prettier than me, catching the eye of the boy I liked, with the cruel nickname Jessica Vacuum. Maybe I didn’t deserve all the misery in high school, but payback IS a bitch and I definitely deserved a few of those whippings. I would be mortified to raise someone who relished in bullying anyone.

I just have this sweet child of mine, dipping her baby toe in the cesspool of adolescence and I’m scared to death for her. I survived my trials with a head full of hate and distrust that I will probably continue working through into my sixties or beyond. And I survived in the 90′ before cellphones, or dick pics, or cyber bullying, or I Hate Dana Facebook pages, or any of the new horrifying ways children are discovering to tear each other down. I’m hoping my husband and I, with our family and her village, have what it takes to get these kids through the next years into adulthood intact with a sense of self worth and hopefully the skills to pay the bills and move their asses out of my basement, even in Denver’s skyrocketing rental market. I’m hoping my daughter reaches adulthood with a shred of respect and love left for her dear old Mom but I am so scared for her.

“The day I stop

Is the day you change

And fly away from me”