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"I was a late bloomer. But anyone who blooms at all, ever, is very lucky." - Sharon Olds I, too, am a late bloomer. Late to writing, late t...
 
 
 
 

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The Fall From Perfection and Other Lessons in Raising Teenagers

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I’m off the pedestal. Way off. I used to be revered. Constant hugs. Daily avowals of my wonderfulness. Long ago I even used to complain about the number of times my children would say “Mommy” during any given hour. (I once counted over 100 “mommys” before I stopped counting.) Now, I am the butt of jokes. The central character in the “remember when she...” stories, the ones usually filled with ridicule and generalized scorn. It’s gotten so bad that my children have even started calling me by my first name.

“What happened to mommy?” I asked them incredulously.

“She died around the time you threw the glass of water against the wall,” my seventeen- year-old-with-the-memory-of-an-elephant said.

“But I explained that having your father gone on a two week business trip when I had three young children, two with the flu, and my own work deadline was slightly more than I could handle.”

“And the time you abandoned us on the curb?”

“That was years ago. And anyway, it was difficult to drive with the three of you fighting in the back seat. I was worried for your safety!”

“Excuses. Excuses,” all three of my children say in a chorus.

Okay. So here’s the deal. I know there are perfectly-patient, ever-kind mothers out there. At least I have been told there are. According to my three teenaged children, I’m not one of them. When they mock me, they say I am only getting what I deserve. Perhaps they’re right. This draconian march down from on high probably began long ago when my angels were mere toddlers and my own exhaustion, frustration, and overall personal failings, resulted in a momentary lapse of my usual perfection. I’d yell. Some might call it screaming. I occasionally threw things. I even spanked. (Step back, Social Services; it was noteworthy because of its rarity.) The look in those long-lashed brown eyes when I did those things haunts me to this day.

I wish I could claim those lapses of model behavior are all in the past. Sadly, they aren't. My girlfriend called recently because she was upset her kids had heard her swearing at her husband. (He’d promised to do the laundry and decided golfing was more important; seemed like a justifiable swearing moment to me.) I started complaining to her about the latest shenanigans of my mother when I realized my own daughter was in the room listening to every word. Ponder the message she must have gained from that conversation, a lesson I can never take back.

The truth is, our children see us in our most humble humanity more often than not. I saw a news report the other night indicating that Michael Jackson’s children, Paris and Prince, watched as paramedics performed CPR on their drugged-up and soon-to-be dead father. The majority of children in our society, thankfully, will not be forced to witness their parents’ demise in such a tragic manner, but they are highly likely to witness their parents behaving in less than honorable ways. It got me thinking about all of the daily violations our children experience on their path from innocence to adulthood; the myriad of ways we parents are far less than the role models we aspire to be.

I could spend hours berating myself for my own lapses in good judgment, but I have come to realize there is a fine line between pushing for perfection and being the best parent you can be. The challenge is that this changes over time. I see in many of the parents in my community a desperate effort to maintain their positionality, a refusal to come off that pedestal. This may have worked when our children were younger, but in their teenage years, perfect is not what my children need me to be. They need me to acknowledge when I make a mistake. They need me to explain myself when my actions are less than optimal. They need to see me change. This is why they are busy teasing me now. They want to know if I can take it. They want to see me laugh at my failings.

A wise woman once told me the future starts today. It’s true I can’t rewind and get a do-over, but I can begin modeling a different kind of behavior. I can show them how to handle stress effectively. I can show them how to apologize when we make mistakes. I can show

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stdiane 5 pts

I read your blog with amusement and pleasure. I'm not sure what affirmation you need from anyone else because from this mother it seems that you are in a good place with your kids.
However...your question of whether our children have seen or heard us do something of which we are less than proud.....bugger. Yes.
I told them an edited truth. Edited for their benefit not mine. It's not about their acceptance of me or my behaviour. It was an opportunity of using their interest in something I had done to teach them a lesson (I mean, how often are our kids really interested in our lives). But also an opportunity to trust them with the truth that their mother was less than perfect. What an ideal opportunity to communicate with our kids. We don't get enough of these so don't waste them. You should know your own kids well enough to know where to draw the lines of your admissions. I've told my kids things that my girlfriends have recoiled in horror from. But I've never regreted it. I admit what I think I can get away with in order to keep lines of communication open. But I also maintain my status as a mother. It's a tough one.
You seem sound. Nice one.

rayvingraychel 5 pts

Perfect is an idea, it doesn't actually exist in reality. Because the best parents teach their children about how to deal with issues and overcome mistakes by making those mistakes while their children are watching.

Also, I noticed, at least in my family that my mom now feels like she's the but of every joke, when in reality, so is my dad. My dad just couldn't give a damn, and my mom is a bit more sensitive to our criticism.

Read Rachel's Tel Avivian rambles, raves ( http://therayve.blogspot.com ) and rave reviews at: http://therayve.blogspot.com

Lisen Stromberg 5 pts

Thanks to all your good words. We seem to agree that the imperious distance "perfect" creates is not optimal for raising teenagers. But, as Patty points out, the mirror sometimes "ain't so pretty."

I showed my teenagers the post and they laughed their heads off. "What pedestal? You were never on one!"

Sigh....

Nobody wants to be Ethel 5 pts

I realized when my kids were little that life was fun through the eyes of a child. I had fun with them I re-lived the fun I didn't think I had the first time. Now that they are teenagers and young adults I am re-living the angst of growing up that I experienced the first time. I hate it. I am just like my mother, nagging on my son for this and that; getting into little power struggles with my daughter. I wish I could find the balance of caring without smothering; and my children discover how to be adults without whining. But they are reflections of me and my hubby. And sometimes it ain't pretty.

Patty

RaisingAmazingDaughters 5 pts

Please check out my blog at http://raisingamazingdaughters.wordpress.com

Your post made me wonder when I went from Mommy to Mom with my three girls. Maybe it was when I first let them see the woman behind the curtain. I think our kids may learn more from our foibles than we acknowledge. I miss being Mommy but I embrace being Mom to three grown young women who know that not being perfect is what makes us human. Good post, though.

foodiemama 5 pts

I've been thinking about this a lot lately. Because I am definitely less than perfect. I swear sometimes (my girls luckily haven't echoed it yet, but that day is coming...), I don't always discipline in the best way, I don't always maintain my calm.

But I think of my own mom. As far as I knew, she didn't touch a penis until she was married, she never had a drink until that one time at a fraternity party when she was reeaaaallllly thirsty and all they had was beer, and she never uttered a swear-word in her life. I love my mom, but I feel like her efforts to appear "perfect" made her a little bit unapproachable. It wasn't until I was well into adulthood that I realized my mom was much less perfect than she seemed, and by that point it was too late for those heart-to-hearts we could have shared during my teen years.

I think we should try our best to model good behavior and good examples for our kids, but I don't think it's necessary or even healthy to act perfect. Do I wish I yelled less? Yes. But then I think about how unnatural it would feel to say, "Sweetie...would you please stop dunking my favorite blouse into the toilet? That makes mommy sad" in a gentle voice. I am in favor of an open relationship, where nobody's perfect all the time, but we make an effort to apologize, talk, and fix it when we're not. I totally agree with you that our kids will learn by watching us occasionally fail and then acknowledge it.

www.quinoaandcornchips.blogspot.com ( http://www.quinoaandcornchips.blogspot.com )

FamilyFrugal 5 pts

I'm still at the mommy mommy mommy stage right now. I have an almost 2 and almost 4 year old. I know the day is coming though when I get kicked off my pedestal.

I hope to do it with as much humility and grace as you though. I have to admit, I am nervous it will devastate me.

It is a great reminder to me as a mom of young children that there are always little eyes watching, learning, absorbing. With memories of elephants! ;)

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MidwesternMamaH 5 pts

Teenagers are demons sent from wherever demons come from. They are sent here to test our patience and sanity. Most of the time, if we are being honest, they win, if only momentarily. I don't for one minute believe the parents that say "they never gave us a minute's trouble" I usually just tell them "yes they did, you probably just had your head too far up the rear end of denial to see it."
Ive had my fair share of breakdowns, freak outs and less than stellar moments. From leaving them on the side of the road in Michigan.. the husband made me turn around and get them, though I would have.. eventually. Ive spanked them when they needed it and just recently when my (at the time) nearly 18 year old daughter called me a bitch under her breath, I popped her in the mouth. This is the same daughter that when she was younger and kicked out her bedroom window in anger, I had her arrested.
Tough Love? You betcha.
I have two pretty good, well adjusted kids.. probably no thanks to me, but I'll never admit that to them.