I mean, seriously, parents, can we just raise a glass and down a shot of tequila to the fact that nurturing teenagers can be a nightmare? Forget baby showers! We should be thrown teenager showers! Because that type of shock to our system deserves a cake and gifts and then more cake. We probably didn’t acknowledge it at the time, but when we fell for that oh-so-cute, sweet little baby, we were also signing up for the huge, overwhelming task of raising a teen. Nobody gets knocked up after thinking, Wow, wouldn’t it be adorable to have a hormonal, back-talking, eye-rolling, door-slamming teenager? If I had known what it would be like, I would have registered for a therapist, not onesies, and I would’ve ended up with a very different baby shower.
Here are two things I’ve learned (and am still learning) that have helped me parent my teenagers with a little more compassion:
First, they actually do need me. Sometimes they are just too confused and moody and stressed-out and irritated and hormonal to realize it. When they are pushing me away, I need to stay steady. When they are trying to manipulate me, I need to be firm. And when they are acting completely unlovable, I need to love them even harder.
They also need me to shut up. They need me to listen more and talk less (which, trust me, is not easy for someone like me, who considers run-on sentences her daily workout). I’ve learned and failed and learned and failed and learned again that the best way to uncover what my teens need—the best way not to miss any red flags—is to stop talking at them, stop assuming I know what’s going on, and instead pay attention.
You know your child. If your kid used to happily chow down on a big meal and suddenly they are sitting at the dinner table pushing their food around their plate, or if your restless night owl of a kid is suddenly sleeping all day, take note. We all break character once in a while. But a pattern of unusual behavior could be a symptom of something bigger going on with your kid that they might need help working through.
What if you want to change a dynamic with your kid that’s been going on for years? When I’ve caught myself in bad patterns of behavior, I’ve tried to use those moments not only to atone for my mistakes and try to repair the relationship but also as opportunities to show my kids that people can change (which has the added bonus of bolstering my position when I’m asking them to make changes to their behavior). I’ll sit down and say something like, “I’ve really screwed up. Throughout the years, I’ve overreacted when you’ve come to me with stuff because I was scared. And this is something I need to work on because my goal is to be there for you when you need me. I’ll need you to be patient because I’m learning, but I’d like the opportunity to earn your trust back.” Modeling accountability is a wonderful gift to give your child, and being honest and vulnerable may help them feel safer opening up to you.
If I don’t want my teenagers to shut down, I have to listen closely to whatever language they’re trying to communicate in until I’ve cracked the code. Because I can’t help someone if I don’t know the problem. I can’t teach someone if I don’t know what they need to learn. I can’t guide someone if I don’t even know they’re lost. And the only way to know anything is to pay attention to the story they’re actually telling and tune out the narrative I’m worried they might be drifting into or the character I want to cast them as.
When things get really confusing and I feel like I want to strangle one of my kids and we’re escalating toward a full-on intense argument, I do my best to force myself to walk away. Because I believe the only thing harder than parenting a teenager is being a teenager. Refusing to engage in an unproductive back-and-forth and giving up on needing to have the last word doesn’t mean I’ve lost power or even ceded the argument. Sometimes the most powerful tool a leader has is knowing when to walk away. I walk away because it’s hard to think when I’m boiling with frustration and my defensive instincts have me coiled and ready to strike. I need to think, Where is my teenager’s behavior coming from? Is he saying this because he’s scared? What does she actually need? What did I need at that age? What would have helped me? There’s always a story behind a child’s actions. And if we can pay attention closely enough to figure out where the behavior is coming from, we will gain the insight to address the underlying pain or need instead of reflecting back the anger on the surface. When someone is angry, the root issue is that they are often actually scared. Instead of asking yourself, What is she so mad about? try asking, What is she nervous about? The answer to that second question gives you something you can work with. The minute you address their fears, the anger evaporates.
When I’m at my angriest, I aim to bite my tongue. And sometimes I slip up. Scratch that. I slip up all the time. I’ll forget to walk away, or I’ll raise my voice, or I’ll name some crazy consequence that I can’t even enforce and then quickly have to take it back, or I’ll bring up something from the past that I swore I’d let go of. Then I’ll have to stop and say, “I’m sorry. That’s not fair. You’re not the same person you were last year.” I don’t want to be judged now on the basis of everything I’ve ever done. And kids evolve much faster than we do. A year in the life of a teenager is like a decade of growth in the experience of an adult, so using the past as the metric by which I judge my kids doesn’t do them any good. We get so mad at our teenagers for being irrational that sometimes we become irrational ourselves.
If you’re facing down the dragon of parenting a teenager (and, honestly, let’s throw toddlers into the mix, too), here’s your mantra: It’s not personal. This too shall pass. I’m a badass. At least one brand of ice cream is on sale right now. I don’t need my kids to be my biggest fans at all times. Repeat that in your head all day while eating the ice cream. And then buy more ice cream.
Listen to me, lovely people. Please, for the love of everything that is good and holy and tastes like chocolate, do not feed me that whole “my kid is easy, my kid is perfect, my kid doesn’t act like that” bit. Good for you. Throw yourself a freaking party. And also, how old is your kid? Five minutes? Is your kid even a human, or are we talking about your pet goldfish? Even if you did win the Powerball and wind up with a kid who’s been a breeze, chances are that’s got more to do with your kid than with your parenting, so you should thank your lucky stars and shut up about it already. Because most of us parents are challenged by our kids at times. And we’re allowed to confidently admit that because, guess what. Challenging kids don’t equal bad parenting. Or bad kids.
One morning as I was making breakfast, my then four-year-old, Ari, ran up to the kitchen counter and cheerfully told me he’d said a prayer for me the night before. My heart melted. “Really?” I asked. “Can you tell me what it was?” He nodded. “I prayed God would wrap you up with a big rope. And then he would tie the rope really tight. And then he’d put a lock on the rope and . . . and . . . throw the key away. Into the sea! And put you in JAIL. For a REALLY long time. Can I have some more milk, please?” Apparently, mean mommies who make their children go to bed when they don’t want to, even when it’s their bedtime, deserve to be punished. Severely.