Tag Archives: PlanetTeen

Blooming

When my fourth son was born, my grandmother came to visit. Bleary from lack of sleep, I hardly noticed the pink blur of my tiny daughter zipping by, but I couldn’t ignore the sound of something crashing into a gazillion pieces in the kitchen a moment later. Then door slams shook the house as “the blur” left on foot followed in hot pursuit by my mother. My grandmother smiled down at the sweet and still compliant newborn in her arms, and said, “Wow, that’s some rose you’ve got among the thorns.” Truth, Grammy. Truth.

At that point, I had been at the mercy of my daughter for a solid four and a half years. Every ounce of parenting wisdom and confidence I had shored up from the 19 months parenting my first son was rendered immediately irrelevant from the moment she was born. This darling girl thrust herself upon us with the fury of a mini-maelstrom. Everything about her broadcast the undeniable truth: Hello, family, there’s a new queen in town.

There was never the innocent hopeful debate about parenting style with this one. My tiny, feisty child pretty much demanded to be attached 24/7 via sling, baby carrier, or industrial strength duct tape . . . until she demanded that she had had enough of that nonsense. I thought I was tired from parenting ’round the clock, that is, until she leaped out of my arms at the tender age of 8 months and sprinted across the room. I pretty much didn’t sit down again for the next 5 years.

My girl’s speed was matched only by her ingenuity and gift for escape. Harried parents everywhere know this is the perfect trifecta for troublemakers, and she wore that title like royalty. I remember one conversation with the pediatrician when she was 9 months old. I was worried that she was already climbing out of her crib. “No problem,” he said. “Just put her to sleep in the pack-n-play. She won’t be able to climb out, and she’ll still be safe.” Such simple genius advice! If he had told me to shave my head and move halfway around the world right then, I would have bought a ticket and packed a bag. But I swear on my Sour Patch Kids, that baby heard every word he said and laughed herself silly. When I went to lay her down for her nap in the old Graco, she looked me right in the eye, shimmied up the corner of the playpen like Spiderbaby, and vaulted over the edge. My baby girl ended up sleeping on a mattress. ON THE FLOOR. next to her brother in a room we double-baby-gated every night. Our house was like Fort Knox without all the home-cooked meals and time off for good behavior.

But even with this indoctrination, I was unprepared for her toddler and preschool years. Frontlines, trenches, and warzones bring me a certain nostalgia after surviving this time with my girl. It’s easier to list the places we weren’t kicked out of: Zero. Nada. None. Library storytime–see ya later, suckers. Music and Motion class—beat it, bums. Local pizza place—fuggedaboutit. Even church, the last haven for the poor and downtrodden like myself, gave me the old “God will understand if you don’t come to church every week.” To say my girl was a difficult toddler is a disservice and a misnomer. Make no mistake: my darling daughter was adorable and dear, but she was also a terrorist with a tiara and a ‘tude. If you are currently parenting such a child, my thoughts, prayers, and fervent wishes for a quiet moment/night off/white flag are with you. Honestly. But I also offer you this: hope.

Today, my beautiful, feisty, funny girl turns fifteen. It’s hard to see, even now, exactly when she started to mellow, but she certainly did. The wide path she cut early on gave her room to move and grow and tussle with possibility. She treads more lightly now and those steps are more sure, less wild, more purposeful. Her frenetic energy has transformed into a casual confidence that is charming and magnetic. With her great smile, hair, and personality, she could totally sell you down the river, but you would be grateful for the lovely trip.

She loves her friends, her books, her writing, One Direction, tacos, Starbucks, strawberries, Doctor Who, Downton Abbey, and yes, even her crazy brothers, with a passion reminiscent of her early fire. She does have the Irish roots to back up that beautiful red hair after all, and God help the boy that falls for either.

She still runs circles around us, but now she wins ribbons for that. She still makes a beautiful noise but she is in good company and we call that music most of the time. She still can shake this house from front to back and around again but usually with our laughter from some clever thing she said. We all still know who the queen is around here, but her edges are softening as she moves gracefully into that best self we all see just around the corner.

She is Blossoming. Blooming. Becoming.

She is, as she always was, our rose among the thorns.

Happy Birthday, sweet girl! Love, Mom

-Erin

Got a wild child? Erin does too. There’s hope.

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What Parents Can Do: Trust But Verify #NotMyTeen

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Erin’s husband Steve drew birthday party duty with the six year old this weekend. But while he had to endure Eddie being sugared up to the gills for this pool party, he was also able to get his parental chit-chat on. Steve is the Han Solo of banter–always ready with some wit.

But this day, one of the parents steered the conversation to more serious waters. He asked Steve how parenting a teen was different than a six year old. Steve threw this out: “Not different at all. I still do what I’ve always done. Trust but verify.” It’s a play on the toddler truism, “Never turn your back on them”, and it just happens to be a critical part of the teen parenting arsenal.

For most parents, the teen years loom in the distance as a scary landscape you would much rather detour around. As current residents of Planet Teen, we are here to say that the weather is generally not so bad here, you just need to be prepared, you know, pack that umbrella to protect yourself from sudden storms. As your guides through this territory, we think that outfitting yourself with common sense, arming yourself with knowledge, and decking yourself out with a panoply of patience will help you navigate your way. It also might help to carry Steve’s truism close to the vest.

It also helps to keep your eyes wide open for trouble. It’s best to see the potholes ahead before they rip out your undercarriage. It’s part of that common sense thing we were talking about.

One of these potholes is right in front of your nose. There are unexpected dangers lurking in your medicine cabinet long after you have outgrown the need for child-proof caps. Dextromethorphan (DXM) is an effective ingredient found in many over-the-counter (OTC) cough medicines. It’s perfectly safe unless you have decided to use it to get high in which case it enters the danger zone. When abused, DXM can cause side effects including vomiting, stomach pain, mild distortions of color and sound, hallucinations, and loss of motor control. Scarily enough, approximately 1 in 20 teens is abusing excessive amounts of DXM and 1 in 3 knows someone who has abused cough medicine to get high.

But YOU can take control of the wheel. October is National Medicine Abuse Awareness Month and we are pleased to be partnering with Stop Medicine Abuse to bring you the tools you need. Stop Medicine Abuse is an organization dedicated to working with families and teens to prevent OTC medicine abuse. The organization is generous and informed and ready to answer your questions about this hazard in your home.

So now that we are sure that you understand there is an issue, the next obvious question is . . .

What can parents do?

1. Listen to the language your kids use.

Here’s a starter list of slang terms for medicinal abuse. Visit the Stop Medicine Abuse site for a more detailed list as well as some conversation starters.

2. Be vigilant for the warning signs

Unusual empty bottles and boxes. Make sure that any of these in your child’s room, trash, backpack, or school locker is immediately discussed.
Loss of interest in hobbies or favorite activities. This is always a red flag. Ask the question. Sometimes kids have just moved on from something they used to enjoy, but other times it’s indicative of a deeper issue.
Changes in friends, physical appearance, sleeping, or eating patterns. Promise yourself and your kid that you’ll be a parent who is tuned in. Don’t let any of these go without a comment or a conversation.
Declining grades. Schoolwork is a great barometer. Don’t ignore any issues that pop up.

3. Take the first step in preventing this abuse: EDUCATE yourself and your family.

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4. Talk, talk, talk, and talk some more.

And remember this: in spite of the fact that every other sentence you say might elicit an eye roll or exasperated sigh, you still play a powerful role at the center of your child’s universe. Hold on to this knowledge as a talisman. Pledge that medicine abuse will not touch your child.

And keep Steve’s words of wisdom at the ready. Trust but verify.

We are using the hashtag #NotMyTeen all this month to empower parents to be sure it’s NOT their teen included in these numbers.

For more information and useful resources for parents, log onto www.stopmedicineabuse.org

This sponsored post is part of the #NotMyTeen campaign by the organization Stop Medicine Abuse, an initiative of the Consumer Health Products, in participation with National Medicine Abuse Prevention Month. All opinions are our own and we are proud to spread the word.

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Check out our books, “I Just Want to Be Alone” and “You Have Lipstick on Your Teeth.”

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Planet Teen ©

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Crash. Bang. Screech. Welcome to Planet Teen. Don’t bother griping about the rough landing. We’ve heard it all before. No one ever sees it coming.

“Just yesterday I had a rosy-cheeked cherub and today I have this…THING full of sulk, smell, and oh so important opinions.”

Ellen– Blah, blah, blah. We hear you, but it is time to focus or you are going to get bamboozled and blindsided by the natives.

Erin– We’ve been here about 25 minutes longer than you have, but in the constant turnover that is Planet Teen, that qualifies us to dispense some knowledge. We’re here to provide newbies with some guidance, veterans with some commiseration, and decorated war heroes of multiple tours with glasses of wine.

Ellen– Don’t be stingy. Wine for all! It’ll make us funnier and the teens more bearable. But keep in mind, we are all you have at the moment. The more veteran guides are busy having a collective nervous-breakdown—something to do with driver’s licenses, SATs, and prom dress cleavage.

But never mind that, first steps first. Before I open the door, you might want to take shallow breaths or at least pull your turtleneck up over your nose. Erin will demonstrate.

Erin– The first thing you’ll notice is that even the atmosphere is different: you can feel it in the air and probably smell it, too. Planet Teen pulses with electric, frantic energy and smells an awful lot like the inside of an Abercrombie and Fitch store. Except when the wind changes. Then it just smells like B.O.

Ellen– Sad, but true. If only it had the lighting of an A&F store, then the terrain wouldn’t drive you insane.

Erin – Wait, before we get to the terrain, we must warn you about the earthquakes that will knock you on your bum faster than you can say, “What do you mean you want me to drop you off around the corner and wait in the car?” The ground is a-shakin’ and a-shiftin,’ people, and no expert in the world can predict when the quakes will hit.

Ellen– A “D” on a test? Wuteva. Missing headband? Total building-dropping, house-leveling, bridge-buckling quake. Some people may say that Planet Teen is hostile. I find it more of a shifting, puzzling, exasperating landscape.

Erin– Ah, yes, the landscape. It is messy, and oh so energy-draining. I’m not talking, “Hey there’s a shirt on the floor” messy. I’m not even talking a pile of Legos or naked Barbies. I’m talking that it’s a stinky, nasty, smelly armpit of a place littered with dirty socks, muddy cleats, damp towels, skeletons of projects past, and snack wrappers.

At least this mess is sanitary. Sort of. Well, they don’t smell. There’s that.

Ellen– Just trash really. Trash everywhere. Even for the roll-with-the-punches Mommas, Planet Teen will break you.

Erin– It was the towels that blindsided me.

Ellen– It’s a cold, damp place for adults because the natives of Planet Teen line their lairs, formerly known as their rooms, with damp towels. Maybe the humidity is good for their skin.

Erin– It can’t be the Aspergillus nidulans (that’s your basic run-of-the-mill mold for you newbies—you get up close and personal with this stuff on Planet Teen). If you are rolling your eyes, thinking, “Why are these chicks hung up on towels?” What’s so sensible about that? Well, for one thing, it is because they never get hung up.

Ellen– Never!

Girls can dream, right?

Erin– And my son can empty an entire linen closet in seven days. If you think for a moment this is not impressive, bear in mind that we have enough towels for SEVEN people.

Ellen– Pfft. Daughters are so much MORE in this arena. Coco (13) uses a hair and a body towel with each shower, and I have the water bill to prove that she showers more than your entire family of seven. She has even been known to take MY previously used body towel, hanging on MY hook. So I double your son, Ace (14), and raise you a disgustingness factor.

Erin– I think we’ve talked about motherhood not being a pissing contest, but, sure, you can take that prize.

Ellen– I knew it!

Erin– But even if you adjust to the messy terrain, terrible smell, and your cold butt having to dash down the hall to scrounge for a towel, you are still at a disadvantage. This planet is under Survivor-esque tribal rule.

Ellen– Only you can’t vote anyone off. You’re stuck in this mess together until college. And even then I think you are supposed to let them back in during holidays.

Erin– Oh, the challenges they toss your way. They sling them faster than Jeff Probst on Red Bull, but their hands-down favorite is the teenage version of Chicken. Every day, sometimes FIVE times a day, they are throwing down the gauntlet to see which of you will back down first. It cannot be you. You thought the Terrible Twos were hard when you could still wrassle them into the car. This is the same thing—only now you are looking UP at them.

Ellen– And then there is the language barrier. Teenagers compose fiction they dispense as fact as effortlessly as breathing. You would think only major Planet events would warrant this level of creativity, but it starts slinging without rhyme or reason. It’s just crap I have to slog through every day to get to the real stories, no matter how boring. It just makes me tired.

Erin– And the really wonderful whipped cream and cherry on top is their indignation when you suggest that their story might be two degrees south of complete BS.

Ellen– And then there’s the Planet Teen code.

Erin– That’s right. On top of shifting landscapes, cold derrieres, and the language barrier, you need to learn their secret codes and cryptic handshakes if you want even a remote handle on what they are thinking. This means you need to learn every last text acronym, read every last Tweet, and check out every last Facebook update and scan Instagram. I kid you not: the tribe is a-rumbling even when the natives look all tucked in and cherubic.

Ellen– TBH, the tribe will ambush you if you are not alert. JTLYK, you can readily get translations on Google. So CYA and get on over there, FTW.

Erin– Oh, and hide your valuables, or at least your eyeliner and straightening iron.

Ellen– The natives, or at least my daughter, are like magpies. Oooh! Shiny pretty thing over here! Aaahh! Sparkly, fun thing over there. These things get whisked away, never to be seen again. It is a little infuriating. Makes you feel like dementia is setting in early.

Erin– But maybe we are making you nervous. So far we’ve only discussed the perils and maybe frightened you with our obsession with towels (it’s serious, people). We did say we were going to give some navigation guidance.

Ellen– Communication is the key. I know it sounds basic, but it’s true. If you can keep the lines of communication open, the natives won’t take over.

Erin– It does not hurt to have strategies and to use what is available to you. In this case, I’m talking about your car. If you have a teen, you live in your car. If you don’t, I want to move where you live, so send me your address.

For the rest of us, accept your lot in life as taxi driver and use this to your advantage. There is real power in talking in the car. Teens don’t like direct eye contact, so side-by-side looking out the window is ideal.

Ellen– Yeah, they are kind of like tigers—don’t look them directly in the eye. Or is that werewolves? Anyway, be ready for them to spill the moment their tushies hit the seat. There is only a fifteen minutes difference between getting the story and “Nothing happened today.”

Don’t talk on the phone and turn down the radio (that way they won’t be obsessed with changing the station immediately). Your job is to hold your tongue.

In fact, I joke that I want my tombstone to read, “She gets props for all the things she didn’t say.” Come to think of it, I am not joking. Dead serious. This is THE key to happiness with your kid on Planet Teen. Hold it until you HAVE to say something. Otherwise, everything comes out like a Charlie Brown teacher.

Charlie Brown Teacher Speaking

Erin– So here’s The Sisterhood Secret: Cultivate a passive, non-judgmental face. One great piece of advice Ellen gave to me that works like a charm is the non-committal “huh” or ”um” as they relay the story.

Ellen– I also use it with crazy people, but a hormonally driven teen is about as crazy as you can get really.

Erin– Use that non-judgmental demeanor and your handy ambiguous grunts to mask your utter dismay when you hear things mentioned like your teen’s friend is running off with the circus. Or that he is considering not going to college because he has plans to turn your basement into a video game console repair business.

Ellen– Don’ t react immediately or you’ll shut them down. Remember you need as much information as possible so that you can sift through the BS to the nugget of truth.

Erin– And buck up, Visitor. Remember that for all the crazy, rocky, smelly, damp, and silly things rocking Planet Teen, you and your child are not adversaries, but fellow travelers trying to make it to the next stage with your sanity intact.

Ellen– This is temporary visa status, not permanent residence. Did you notice that this excursion has just begun? We’ve barely moved away from the transport door. But, look behind you, the next wave of newbies is already moving in behind you.

Erin– A temporary visa is more than enough on Planet Teen, so bring the wine, the Starbucks, a plucky attitude, and a sense of humor. We’re all going to figure this out together, but we are going to need the fortification. And we’re off. . .

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