They tell me I have very little time left before my sweet and adoring 13-year-old daughter does an about face on me and becomes a venom-spewing mega-bitch on wheels. They -- the great mothers of the world -- have promised me, in no uncertain terms, that the rejection of my motherly ways will not only be guaranteed but also that the animosity that comes with it will be served piping hot, and peppered with cruelty.
Which leads me to wonder: What could possibly happen that could crush my heart to such a degree that I might someday join the ranks of those who give this warning? Is this my destiny as a parent -- to experience the teenage reign of hellfire and rejection? Or, better yet, am I supposed to be shocked, stunned and rip-roaring ready to commit suicide over it?
I mean, what is she going to do? Tell me I'm an ugly old hag, that she hates me and that I need to die? Will there be attempts on my life, contracts out on my head, or is this threat more along the lines of her just ignoring me and occasionally giving me a smug look?
I've already been instructed to keep ten paces behind her when walking together in a public place. If I'm caught humming a tune in the supermarket aisle, I'm shushed, silenced and forbidden. I know that the notifications she gets on her iPhone take precedence over anything I might have to say, be it trivial or important, and oddly enough -- I'm cool with it all.
That's the thing. I'm just not that bothered by the idea of her wanting to assert her own independence, and it doesn't rattle my ego all that much that my physical presence embarrasses her. And, as I did mention, she is sweet and adoring -- this is the absolute truth. But she is also human, so I don't expect the adoration and sweetness to be robotic, unfailing or even consistent.
I suppose what gets so deeply under the skin of all these terribly traumatized parents is that perhaps, when they had their kids, they simultaneously lost their concept of what a boundary is. Our children are not extensions of our own bodies, and it would certainly be narcissistic to think they don't come with their own personal boundaries -- ones that we must respect.
Simply because we brought them into the world doesn't mean we necessarily have the right to control how they should feel about us.
Kids simply want their own space. Call me wacky, but that seems reasonable enough to me, at any age.
I know that there are those of you, right now, shaking your heads and saying, "Oh, you think you're such a rebel, Dori Hartley, with your free-spiritedness and your lack of discipline! You're a fool, woman -- a naïve fool! Experts far and wide agree that teenage girls turn on their mothers, and yours will too!"
Experts have also told us that the number one, ultimate rule of the parent-child relationship is that a mother must never, under any circumstance, ever consider being best friends with her daughter. This tenet suggests that never the twain shall meet, and should they try, they would cancel each other out -- meaning that one simply cannot be both a parent and a friend at the same time.
Really? I guess I blew that one too. Because my 13-year-old daughter has been my best friend for quite a while, and I actually thinks she likes it that way.
Being a mother and a friend gives me a much broader perspective, which also prepares me for the onslaught of menacing teenage-horndog prompts, such as:
"Mom, why do boys always seem to have boners?"
"Mom, did you ever do it with a girl?"
"Mom, when did you lose your virginity?"
I laugh, shake my head, laugh some more, and then of course shake my head. Again.
We both know the discussion is closed. You see, the friendship part allows her to feel safe enough to ask, and the mom part is disciplined enough to not answer.
I move in to give her a big Mommy-hug, which she reluctantly allows me to do (and is about as satisfying to me as hugging a chair). A good time is had by all.
Balance and respect. That's what it's all about. A little laughter, a little leeway, the setting of limits and, of course, reciprocity.
So, I'm hoping that unless I'm subjected to some sort of unforeseen total mental breakdown, the process of balance and respect that I've had going on with my daughter for the past 13 years should still be intact through the years 15 through 18.
If not, I guess for the first time in my life, I'll get to experience what it's like to be just like everybody else: an expert.
Native New Yorker Dori Hartley is a writer and illustrator who has contributed to print and online publications including Psychology Today, MyDaily, and Parentdish. Hartley started her writing career as a lyricist, penning tunes for Tears For Fears, The Goo Goo Dolls and Carlos Santana. Her lyrics inspired the writers of the HBO series The Sopranos to create an entire show revolving around her song "Nobody Loves Me But You." Read her blog on Red Room.
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Deborah Lynn, M.D.: A Mother and Child Reunion
We children were well-socialized from our earliest years. Our personal preferences were acknowledged; not all accommodated. If we had dissatisfactions with the "status quo," we were reminded that someday we would be adults (circa 18 years—after we’d left “the nest”), living in our own manner—our circumstances permitting.
Post-nest, house rules prevailed. Our parents never disciplined any of us after 18 years. We were able to have adult intercourses with our family’s adults.
We were guests in our parents’ home; and always guests in our grandparents’ and aunt’s homes. As such, we behaved as guests.
If I had any children, they would not be allowed to behave in an unsocialized fashion at any age in my presence, let alone my home.
My advice to parents: “House rules prevail—non-compliance means the house can no longer accommodate room and board.” I would not provide shelter, food, and clothing to an unsocialized child.
Poor behaviour by a household member reflects badly to the greater community.
I will end with the single most important instruction my mother gave me: “You influence others through the example you set by your own conduct.”
When she turned 18 I called the police department and they told me I had every right to throw her out of the house. They also said that if she refused to go they would come over here and escort her out. So, I told her to leave and took the house key away from her. That was all it took! After one week she came back crying on her hands and knees. I agreed to let her back into the house with certain changes, which she wasn't happy about, but agreed to.
She is now a grown woman. She has actually thanked me for doing that because it taught her a very big lesson in life.
I love my daughter dearly. I always have, but sometimes it takes more than love to get through.
The oldest daughter was pretty distant from the start. The youngest daughter ended up being with me all of the time. We became friends and did everything together. If she was at her grandmothers house and called, I would stop everything and go get her. She was not the favorite in that family but I loved her to death if as she were my own (could never have kids) we shared the same likes and dislikes. From 5 yrs old until about 14 I felt the purest love that anyone could feel for a child.
I had high hopes for her as she was so beautiful and had a great singing voice. She helped me hand raise our baby cockatiels that I have 2 pictures of and it is a sweet memory that I hold in my heart.
I see her young innocent hands in the pictures holding the chicks so lovingly.
We used to have Nintendo Marthon day on Saturdays and play until beating the game.
We always went rollerblading every Saturday, skating 12 miles...NO LESS!
But...things did change around age 14 at middle school. Inside secret schoolmate influences between students started to change her. When she would come home she would seem to be the same, sweet loving, laughing girl again. The rest will be posted on Facebook...
I'm very happy that I planned ahead for the time, to make sure that I would have the adult backing and support for when the storm hits. Had I not, I would have been left to end it right there. You might ask, why? Well, that's because no biological parent (especially the maternal mother) will never, ever put their partner above their child.
When the rages arrived at the age of fourteen (14), I had the full parental backing support. Without that parental backing support, I would not have made it through. In the end, the rage and hate subsided and passed. I am now the proud step parent of a wonderful young adult, and I enjoy bragging about their success in life every chance I get. Like most anything important in life, you MUST plan ahead as parents.
In one glib article the author displays her disdain of other parents (how does she know those parents didn't ACTUALLY go through an unanticipated hell with their teen?) and a precarious foresight into her own future. She riffs on the other parents as self-proclaimed "experts," while blithely setting herself up as one who has it all figured out...also known as an expert.
This is like the parent of a one-year-old pontificating on how it will be when HER child turns 2. Better to cosset your exceptional parenting plans privately; that way you can either revel in how right you turned out to be, or save yourself from later crow-eating. (Written by the mother of five grown children.)
KL12 is correct in what she says.