The post about Dreams and Goals… {a giveaway}

 

greaterMy youngest is a senior in high school, this year! That is insane and incomprehensible, honestly. There are so many things about this which I am not ready for. What really overwhelms me is that next year I won’t be school supply shopping for anyone at home.

My older daughter Amanda has two school aged step sons. I love having a reason to peruse the back-to-school stuff again. It’s so fun and I want to simply buy all of the things. Of course I do not, but I want to. Crisp paper, colored folders and the air cooling a bit all play together well creating my favorite season.

Back to Gen and her senior year though- The entire school year ahead feels like a challenge. It’s her senior year and she made the decision to finish high school online. She has goals that involve college and a career in marketing, but staying in a traditional school seemed to be taking her farther from these goals. She’s also a young seventeen year old so it is quite possible that those dreams may change a few times over the months that follow. I know that I am trying to keep my heart afloat and not stress too much over the two semesters ahead. If it matters, my dream for her is simply that she finish school in a way she is proud of and that whatever happens between now and that cap & tassle day is the stuff that confidence is made from. If you’ve read here for long, you’ll remember it’s been quite a difficult journey for my wee girl. She deserves the best, I pray every morning that she will find belief in that, for herself.

That is one of the things I really loved about Brandon Burlsworth’s story in the film Greater. He shows us the value of, not just the goals and dreams themselves, but of the hard work that goes into them. As a mom I have a lot that I can do to make this heart vision I have for her a reality…

I’m partnering with Grace Hill Media this week in anticipation of the theatrical release of the film Greater. We would love to hear what challenges, goals or dreams you have as this school year begins. One lucky winner will receive a $25 gift card to WalMart, perfect for those school supply needs! Deadline for entries is Saturday August 27th at midnight.

 

“You’re welcome…”

GenOne thing Chw and I have been spending a lot of our one-on-one conversations about, lately, is the fact that we aren’t perfect parents and we are ok with that. While that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t daily strive to be better parents, or better spouses (which in turn makes us better parents), the one thing which became blindingly clear to us in recent weeks is that it doesn’t matter to us whether our 15-year-old likes us or not.

I never imagined I would feel this way. I grew up in foster care and always knew that my kids would LOVE me and think I was absolutely the coolest mom ever. That’s just the way it was going to be. And now that I have a teenager who spews rage at me on a regular basis, just for fun, I’ve realized I don’t really want her approval. I’ve seen the things she prioritizes in her life, and some of the people she approves of or things she thinks are cool. These are categories I don’t want to fit into, but thanks. Incidentally, she also takes every opportunity to point out how disapproving she is of our parenting techniques…

Specifically she has screamed and thrown things because I am “verbally abusive” and she knows it for a fact because she has “asked her friends, and they confirmed what I do is abuse.” When I asked her what it is I do, she proceeds to point out things like:

– tell her when her zipper is down, or her pockets are sticking out. (when I asked if I do it discreetly she bursts into tears and says “yes, but I’m so tired of you tearing me down that way!” When she finished the dramatics I said “then why not let your obvious frustration motivate you to check your own zipper and pockets from time to time?” To which I received a hateful look and was called a profane name. alright then…)

– I scream at her. When we hashed this out, it turns out I scream at her to “stop” when she is hurling insults, back-talking, arguing and won’t stop. Her voice is far above ours and she is incredibly hateful and I will scream at her to “STOP!” When I asked her how, in this scenario, she wasn’t the verbally abusive one since she was the one hurling insults and saying cutting, hateful things while yelling at her parents, I get the “You would say that, wouldn’t you?” response and glare.

– We “nag” her. (By “nag” apparently it means we remind her over and over to chew with her mouth closed, give her warnings about behaving in school because the school called AGAIN, pick up her messes and stop back-talking.) How dare we!

So… When we repetitively point out that no, these are not abusive things, these things are called PARENTING, she will plummet into her 4 times a week rant about what an awful mom I am. Crappy to hear? sure. But a little comical too.

On one such recent festive occasion, (we are both so tired of these near daily events, sorry for not blogging more, my goodness is drained…) I just looked at her and said “Do you believe we need your validation or approval to get by? Do you honestly think we are just hoping you approve of our parenting?” She was shocked. I continued, “You are 15. Not only do you have no idea how to be a parent, you have no idea how to be an adult and you especially have no idea what we have been through or what it has been like along our parenting journey. When you have a decade of the experience we do, under your belt, I’ll value your input on my performance and what you have to say. Now? Now your opinion is based solely on your selfish whims and desires.” Did it solve the problem? Probably not, but it gave her food for thought.

She’s also always telling us her one friend “really likes us” or “was excited to see us.” It’s all lies and we couldn’t figure out why she kept telling us these things until these conversations between us started, so I added that to the mix. I said “And Gen, we don’t care if your friends approve of us or like us either. Your friend’s opinions of us mean absolutely nothing to us. I don’t need their acceptance or approval.”

This was an idea she could not comprehend, which felt awesome… And hopefully, also makes her think a little.

Awhile ago I read an article or something that said “when your teen hurts your feelings, they may not be aware of their actions. Articulate “thank you for hurting my feelings by _____________. That was really painful.” And maybe this will spur them to take responsibility for their actions. So, the other day she said something really awful to me and I tried it.

Her response? “You’re welcome,” Saccharine smile.  Shocked, I texted my husband who couldn’t believe it. Later that night, he was home and the fun continue. She said something else and my knee-jerk reaction was “ouch, wow Gen, thanks.” And she did it again, “You’re welcome.” Sickeningly sweet smile…

A couple of hours after our talk about not needing her approval she said to me “I don’t like what you said. I think my opinion of the type of parents you are should matter more than even yours does. That makes me feel… I can’t even explain it.”

I smiled at her, “Like you aren’t in charge? Like you aren’t above us? Like we are the parents.”

She sighed.

I walked over and hugged her close and guess what I sincerely whispered in her ear?

You’re welcome… (someday she will be grateful, but we don’t need her to be. That’s another thing we’ve realized. Someday (I hope) her opinion will be different and she will get it.)

And someday she will have a teenager and I will laugh harder than I’ve ever laughed before, and maybe I’ll say it again, but that time just for fun:

You’re welcome!

An itch you just can’t scratch…

IMG_4222You know that one thing that drives you crazy in someone else, but deep down you are terrified (iow pretty sure) it’s a character trait you identify in yourself? This has been becoming increasingly blinding to me lately (the annoyingness of this in someone else), but then today it occurred to me that I think it might be a universal flaw in all earth-born species…

Let me explain.

I used to work for this teeny tiny company that you’ve probably never heard of, called Hewlett-Packard. While working there (in my VERY early twenties) I had this super scientific job where I donned plastic gloves, used gigantic tweezers (non-magnetized, mind you) and worked on circuit boards. (I lied. It was not scientific at all, but I really did love it. I’m a fan of routine, monotonous things…) I would, before sitting down to work, however, have to go through this decontamination process. Once that had happened, I could not touch myself at all. During training they warned “you will feel like you have hives”, and I thought they were out of their minds… But I did. I felt that way, nay, worse. Every single day.

Fast forward to now- while I can tolerate an itch for an extraordinary period of time, my 15-year-old daughter has the horrendously unacceptable habit of being unable to sit still for any matter of seconds when it is appropriate to do so. (ie: a formal event when it is still/quiet; sometimes at the movies; while we are speaking to her about something serious; any other occasion that calls for patience and quiet respect.) She gets shakes and uncontrollable itches, and phantom pains, and chest pains and invisible skin lacerations… The list really does go on and on. On the flip side though, during times that don’t matter, she is as stiff as a board. (i.e: reading a book, looking at a magazine, day dreaming, watching tv.)

I feel these are tied together someone but am usually so irritated by it that, well…

But then…

Tuesdays are garbage day. The gigantic green trash trucks come and, like clockwork, our two dogs go crazy. In an effort to protect us (and their food storage) they chase the evil truck away week and after week with their fierce and deafening barks. I am sure that, within the dog world they would be quite impressive. Within our house, they are not. Today, in an effort to use my Yoda mind tricks on Paisley (my lab who loves me unconditionally, without thought of self) I decided to stare into her eyes lovingly while reassuring her over and over what a good girl she was, in a soothing voice. Initially, she absorbed this attention and seemed to melt into my chest, despite the beeping of the trash truck in the distance. But then she shifted, our eyes still locked, and suddenly she realized I had ahold of her collar. She continued to stare and nuzzle while also trying desperately to get out of my grip. When I realized I had lost the battle, I finally let go and she was free.

Free to turn around and scratch an itch at the base of her tail, with her teeth, with a force I’d never seen before.

So there you have it, whenever you realize you can’t do something, suddenly the need to do it consumes you.