On Saturday night I was granted brief access back into the hideous world of the teenager. Thrust back into my own years of teenage angst but with my husband by my side (thank god), a drink in my hand that I hadn’t stolen and the knowledge that those horrible teenage years come to an end.

I’m not saying for a minute that being a teenager is always horrid (although it was for me) but those very beginning years when you’re just desperately trying to fit in and discover who you are, are not pretty for anyone. Not even the pretty ones.

So back to Saturday night.
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I am navigating parenting a teen in much the same way a party goer navigates a breathaliser test on the way home from a big night, dodgily swerving about and praying for the best while trying to keep everyone safe. And alive

I recently read a line from a book that I am dying to read when it is published in 2015 . The book, Love in the Time of Contempt written by the immensely talented Joanne Fedler, sums up pretty much how I am feeling with the line “Childbirth is never over. We are always birthing them, letting go of them, giving them to the world”

And so it is for me that every age and stage of Little Pencil’s life is a brand new (and frankly sometimes terrifying) experience. Now I have never been one to read baby and child rearing books because god knows I hate being to what to do and I positively loathe being told how to parent, but I like the sound of Joanne’s book because it’s about her experience more than it is an instruction manual and I do like to know how other parents are handling this stage they call the teenage years.

Further to knowing more about these bumpy years, I recently went to the most valuable and affirming talk on parenting teenagers. The talk was given by my beautiful friend and over-the-top brilliant psychologist Dani Klein and it wasn’t just because I love her that I found her talk so inspiring. What I loved is that she gave us, between many, many, many laughs, an insight into how the teenage brain works and thinks. She helped us understand that our teen’s sometimes confounding and hideous behavior is normal and, although she didn’t say this in her own words, if nobody dies in the process, we will get through it.

So I’m lucky, I’m surrounded by knowledge and experience and I have some insight into my son’s developing pre-frontal cortex. But I’m still trying to navigate my way in between the peer pressure, my own needs as a helicopter parent and the safety of my child. Oh and of course I am factoring in Little Pencil’s needs and happiness of course and it aint easy.

I’m pretty confident in the decisions we make as parents and I think our son is turning out to be a fan-bloody-tastic human being with compassion, kindness, humour and smarts but I am bloody stumped by the beach.

We have recently moved house and are closer to the beach. When I say closer I mean walking distance closer. And it’s been hot. And Little Pencil thinks he should be wiling away his days in the surf. Without his mother of course.

While both men and women excrete traces of pheromones in their urine, men excrete more than cheap generic tadalafil women do. Lauh Basma, Kavach Beej and Kesar work very well for curing extreme masturbation and flushing impurities purchase generic cialis http://www.midwayfire.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/Approved-Minutes-9-8-20-1st-Special-Budget-Mtg.pdf of the body. These capsules help in weight gain by addressing all the underlying reasons behind underweight and this is one of the reasons other than its exceptional functionality that has ensured prowess of VigRX plus over purchase cheap viagra, viagra, we should forget these pills and remember only VigRX Plus. Diagnosis of dysfunction of cheap cialis erectile – There are no formal tests to diagnose erectile dysfunction. It may sound great but let me give you some background – I grew up in landlocked Johannesburg, South Africa so the beach is not my most comfortable habitat – it’s just not familiar to me this children-growing-up-on-the-beach life. Added to the fact is that my child, while he has many talents, is not how you would say “the strongest swimmer in the world” although he is possibly the least fearful and most danger/adventure loving human I know – which causes the most worry in the water.

He thinks he should be allowed to go to alone to the beach with his mates and by alone I mean without a parent. It feels wrong to me. When he asks me why he’s not allowed to go I actually can’t explain it.

I am not worried about the people at the beach – stranger danger is not a theory I subscribe to and I believe that he is perfectly safe from predators and men in white vans (or speedos). But I worry about the hugeness of the ocean and the strength of the waves.

In my rational mind I know that my being at the beach would not make even the smallest difference because I am a worse swimmer than he is and, if he was in the water and God forbid, something happened to him I would probably not even be aware let alone be able to help him.

He tells me that all his friends are allowed to go to the beach by themselves but most of their parents tell me otherwise. He is only 13. He has a long life at the beach (and away from it) ahead of him.

He is very much still a child albeit a teenage child. He still needs a parent and guidance and lifts and to be loved and to be shown wrong from right. He still needs boundaries and parental involvement in his life. I refuse to believe that 13 is old enough to be left to just make your way – of course he has independence and he’s better with a bus timetable than people twice his age but does he need to go to the beach by himself?

Tell me, beach-city dwellers, when did you go to the beach by yourself ? What age would you allow your kids to go swimming at the beach completely unattended?

When Little Pencil was just a toddler I was still convinced that parenting was meant to be about memorable parenting moments shared at parks and beaches and other traditional “happy family” places.  I was still at the stage where I judged my parenting experience alongside the fantasies of the pictures of other families I saw. I thought it was all meant to be sunshine and roses and learning experiences and laughter.

It often wasn’t.

We’d often return home from an outing in tears – both Little Pencil and I. He hadn’t “appreciated” it the way he was meant to and we were tired and hungry and frustrated. Actually I was hungry – he not so much. Outings in the early days were more like military-like excursions with tight timetables around naps and meals, there was baggage – so much baggage – nappies and snacks and water and suntan lotion and toys and changes of clothing and kitchen sinks and that was just the “baby bag”.

Of course we had some amazing times and I have about 56898 photos to prove it. I also have memories of laughing with him and marveling at him and just being so damn happy to be his mother.  But there was always a lot of stress associated with it – maybe because I hadn’t slept through the night for four years and I couldn’t get the damn child to eat a thing. But I digress.

Today Little Pencil had his first free day these holidays. It’s becoming increasingly hard to find time with him as he flits from one social arrangement to the next, so the thought of stealing some time with him was hugely attractive and I had just the lure to get him to want to spend some time with me.

He’s been nagging me since we bought the new house in March to find out if he can walk down to the beach from the new house with his friends. Today was going to be our opportunity to try out the route ourselves so we could make an informed decision about what the walk involved.

We parked at the new house that we don’t yet live in and set off. Just him, me, our phones (for photographic purposes), a bottle of water and some money for lunch. He did query my outfit before we left home so I knew I was dealing with a teenager.

What I hadn’t imagined was how wonderful it would be to spend time with this teenager without any of the normal distractions. There was no timetable, no friends pulling at his side, no work pulling at mine. We just walked and laughed and walked and took a zillion photos.  He went onto scary dangerous rocks and instead of screaming I took photos of him smiling, he challenged waves on the slippery rocks and I only screamed internally.  He talked constantly (as is his want) and I listened because he was actually really interesting and entertaining.
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We fed birds, we fed ourselves and he fed my soul with a love that the just keeps building as I discover more and more that parenting is not just about looking after a baby, that it’s not about perfect moments that the books define, that it’s really just being the person you are with the person you created.

Little Pencil raved about the walk – he loved every minute of it and even though it’s certainly close enough to walk there with his friends he’s told me he wants to do it with me again. Actually he told me he wants to do it with his dad but I think I’ll be allowed to join them.

I never thought I was going to learn to love him even more in his teenage years. Guess I was wrong.  And I realise I have changed my mind about teenagers completely since I wrote THIS post. (I prefer this way)

 

 

There are many things I try to teach my child, almost every day. Ever since he was able to talk I have wanted him to know that what he says is important, his words count and that I believe him.

The reasons for this are numerous and obvious – of course he is important and should know that but there is something far more significant and important about him knowing that I believe him, I trust him and if he tells me something I will actually listen.

Some people may complain about the fact that our kids are too forward, that “back in our day” we would call our friends’ parents using the Mr or Mrs moniker, we respected our parents more and our relationships were different. Yes they were different – but they were not necessarily better. The idea that children should be seen and not heard, that they should not talk out of turn and that there were certain things they shouldn’t talk about at all surely caused more damage than it did good. Abuse and inappropriate behavior swept under the carpet – things that troubled us as kids never brought to light.
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There are times I don’t feel like I’m responsible enough to be a parent. Maybe responsible is not the right word. Maybe it’s grown up. I’m not grown up enough to be a mother. Let alone the mother of a teen

There are thousands of everyday examples of this, like when I buy lollies for myself and hide them from my son, or when I cry to my husband that I can’t win at Rubik’s Race against Little Pencil or when I have no clue as to how I’m meant to respond to, well anything.

But nothing brings out my non- preparedness like a trip to the dentist. Today I discovered a trip to the orthodontist is a million times worse.

Like most “normal” people I’m petrified of the dentist. Unlike most normal people I can’t disguise it very well.

Like most parents I want to protect my child from anything that hurts him. Unlike most parents I can’t do this because I’m trying too hard not to faint, cry or run away.

We walked into the orthodontist today and Little Pencil was so nervous, I was petrified but at this stage I was still able to function in quite an adult-like manner. I told him it wouldn’t hurt (much) and that I’d be there holding his hand. I told him it was nearly over (my coping mechanism for anything I find hard to deal with) and that the rest of the day would be filled with sunshine and rainbows.

It’s a funny thing how you can really take on the emotions of your child. And when I say “you” I mean “I” – it just makes me feel better.

Being in the orthodontist’s rooms filled me with the fear of the dentist even though I knew I wasn’t going to have to open my mouth – only my wallet.
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I really struggled to see my son even lying in the dentist chair. If I try and analyse it (and I do) I wonder if it’s because it fills me with that same fear I had when Little Pencil was in intensive care as a baby and I was absolutely helpless and petrified as medical teams and machinery swamped him – and brought him to full and good health.

I gave him my hand to hold as he lay in the chair but really it was me that needed to feel the warmth of his hand in mine, me that needed to feel his hand to know that he was going to be okay. As they shoved his mouth full of instruments I had to look away. I knew I couldn’t cope.

They offered me a seat and they told me to take deep, calm breaths.

Little Pencil just lay there with his mouth shoved open with a giant clamp-like thing. It was the longest time he’s ever gone without talking. And he took the entire episode in his stride. He didn’t get his maturity from me.

I felt claustrophobic, scared and very, very young.

And then he got out of the chair and took a selfie of his new braces and the maturity started to full my veins again.

I took him to school and then raced back home to do the bits of mothering I really excel at – I made chicken noodle soup, vanilla pudding, chocolate milkshakes and smoothies and I scoured the internet for soft recipes that his metallic teeth can cope with.

And just like that my little boy has top braces on his teeth so he’s really not a little boy at all.