Here’s the backdrop: we’re in that tunnel of time between Thanksgiving and The Holidays. We’re staring down the shortest, darkest day. It’s getting, at least the trend is, colder. Think, end of semester, think all sorts of deadlines, think family and entertaining (and craft show at our house) and gifts and year-end everything. Think a seemingly infinite string of reasons to feel I haven’t measured up or done enough. Remember, I am pretty hard on myself. Add: anticipating unstructured extremely peopled time with few quiet breaks.
Honestly, this is never my favorite stretch.
**
The “duh” moment I had one cranky-kid-filled morning this week was that when you become a parent you basically invite other people’s bad moods to land in your lap. I love you, okay, fall apart now why don’t you? I’ll just be here.
Now, you get that with a partner, too, but somehow when there are two adults, each one is still, supposedly, responsible for him or herself. You probably don’t have to make sure your partner gets up. Or take your partner to school.
I certainly asked for this responsibility and I love these people, the ones still smaller than I am and the two who have shot above me. Big picture, I would file this “duh” moment under some category like, oddities I’m surprised not to begrudge.
But here’s the thing (you knew a but was about to follow, yes?): there have been more than a couple of moments in recent months (weeks, days, hours) when cranky has given way to teenage overstepping of boundaries into downright jaw-dropping territory. Yucky words and insults, unwillingness to pause, apologize, or practice any golden rule stuff, like that. I’m going to remain vague because the specifics matter less than the feeling of being the only terrible parent ever to feel walked over by one’s own child.
I did a nonscientific survey and discovered I am not the only parent of a teenager to feel old (in my day were we really this bad?), appalled and like a f*&k-up of a parent. Well, thank goodness.
I am not writing this to betray anyone nor to embarrass anyone. I am coming out of a closet here, the one about whoa, how do I set limits and keep my boundaries firm while remaining soft-hearted and compassionate about the fact that adolescence—especially during what is a stressful era for all sorts of reasons beyond our control—is really, really difficult in many ways? I love these people who are supposed to feel free to fall apart in my midst. They are spectacular and they are actually—overridingly—caring folks. And I fully acknowledge that I get into bad moods, too, ones that land near their laps. I don’t always respond graciously. I nag (or so I am told, um, repeatedly). I whine. I tell them to go away when I’m working. I am not 100 percent available and warm and at the ready with freshly baked cookies or even interested in cheering them on for every single activity. The list of things I haven’t attended to (did you notice there’s a report card on the counter to read?) is extremely long.
We are all smashed up in sometimes too-close proximity; that’s family for you. Figuring out how to be our own person and have our moods and endure our struggles and thrive together, separately, and in proximity, that’s our task. It’s hard.
**
A few days ago, just before five, I was driving home from the eighth grader’s concert when we decided to drive through the park and see the holiday lights on display. Although I’ve lived here a kazillion years, I’d never before done this. We turned the radio dial to the station with a holiday music program that accompanied the loop around the park. We just loved the whole pretty (and slightly cheesy) experience and let ourselves be wowed together. I handed a five-dollar bill to the third grader and he placed it in Santa’s cap, as we were about to exit the park. The brothers happily licked their little candy canes.
It was a sweet moment, the sort that reminds me I’m glad I asked for this, even though I am not enjoying each and every moment equally. I’m not supposed to savor each and every moment equally and acing parenthood is not an option in the playbook. But still… I’m wishing for a bit more clarity or success or something like that. This isn’t the greatest way to feel heading straight into the darkest week of the year. I’m banking on this truth—owning up to your struggle usually helps, at least a little.
