Regrets

I regret a lot of things that I have done in my life. I've lied, cheated, been rude, and so much more.

Honestly, I feel like if I told anybody close to me that I feel like I'm a bad person, they would tell me I was a amazing person and not to feel bad. People may think this, but I know deep down inside that I am truly a bad person. I don't try to be such a bad person. It just kind of happens. And, honestly? It hurts deep down inside, so far down that sometimes I feel like I have a boulder pushing down on me. I feel like there is a lump of coal in my stomach that makes me so nausea.

You are probably wondering right now, "Why is this girl getting so down on herself?" Well, like I said, I've done some terrible things in the past, but nothing can match up to what I have done to persist me to write this. So, here it is…

I stole money. Not just from anyone, but from my own family. I stole a great deal of money over the past few months from my mom and step-dad. It all started around the third trimester of my school year. I was really down, because I didn't have much money, which meant I couldn't hang out with my friends much. So, one night, when I was down stairs alone, I got to thinking about how much I wanted to hang out with my friends. I got this idea, that I could steal money from both my mom and step-dad. I stole $20 each from them. I thought this would last for a while and that I would never do it again. But, then I didn't get caught and I got stuck in the same situation. So, I did it again. The same amount and the same way. I didn't get caught. I continued doing this, because I figured no one knew, and how much could it really hurt? A lot. It hurt a lot.

So, then summer rolled around. I was really excited and was going shopping like almost every week. My mom kept asking me, "Where's all this money coming from Grace?” Conveniently, my aunt, uncle and cousins (on my dad's side) were visiting from over seas. My aunt has always spoiled me in the past. So, I used that as an excuse. I would just tell her, "Oh! My aunt gave it to me." I lost track of how much I spent.

So, the other day my dad dropped me off after having dinner with him. When he came to the door, my mom asked me if she could have a few minutes to talk with him… alone. I didn't think anything of it. Then she came into the living room and asked me if she could speak to me. They, my mom and step-dad, had known the whole time of my horrible acts.

Do I regret? Hell yea. I would do anything in the world to take it back. I wish I could take back every moment of it. But, like when you squeeze too much toothpaste out of the container, you can't put it back. I've gotten myself into some serious shit. I don't even know why I thought it was a good idea. I don't even know why I kept doing it. God, I feel so stupid. I feel horrible. I have a continuous sick feeling in my stomach… and I don't like it.

Mom and Step-Dad, if you're reading this, I'm so sorry. I wouldn't be surprised if you never wanted to talk to me again. I wouldn't be surprised if you never wanted to even look to me again. I wouldn't even be surprised if you never wanted to hear from me again. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if you hated me forever. I don't blame you. I would probably do the same thing. I would defiantly feel the same way. You guys have always helped me succeed, encourage me, teach me, and showed me nothing but love. What did I give you? Distrust. Lies. I hurt you. I am sorry.

boody shorts and other things not to fight for the right for

I think my husband phrased it best a few nights ago: "These students are fighting for the right to dress up like whores and have their classmates ogle their asses." And that was after six days of discussion about the dress code shake up at Grace's school last Friday.

It happens in every middle school and high school every year. It happens no matter how conservative or liberal the dress code is, including those that have uniforms. Sooner or later, the students decide they want to push the rules, the school administration responds, and the students grumble and complain.

Last Friday the school administration at Grace's high school pulled several students out of class, all women, and cited 30 of them for dress code violations. The violations? Short shorts, micro minis and tube tops. The school has a policy that skirt and short lengths can't be higher than the tips of the fingers. All the parents of the cited students were notified. Students were given the option of changing into suitable clothing they had in their lockers, waiting for a parent to bring them a change of clothing, or walking home and changing clothes before being allowed to return to classes. A fourth option, which only one girl took, was to wear an extra-large t-shirt with the words "Tomorrow I Will Dress For Success" brandished across the front over her clothing, concealing the violating garments.

The student body has been outraged ever since the students were first removed from classes that day. The students discussed the matter in every single class. During lunch when some of the students returned to class, students stood on the lunch tables clapping, yelling, hurrahing, and, well, hooting. By the end of the day there was a petition written and signed by over 100 students (about 20% of the current student body), to be delivered to the principal directly. One student stepped forward as a reporter for the school paper and asked for "student victims" to contact her directly so she could address the matter in the next issue of the paper. Over the weekend three different facebook groups were begun by students protesting the matter. They had lovely and creative names like "OUR HIGH SCHOOL's dress code is RETARDED" and "OUR HIGH SCHOOL's rebellion." The rebellion group suggested every student come to school on Monday wearing short shorts, mini skirts, or showing some undergarment (all dress code violations) and label the protest "Dress like a Ho Day."

The school board communications officer released a public statement, as did the principal. The local newspaper picked up the story and posted a short bit on their online site. Five hours later, it was filled with over 50 comments, all from students of the high school or other local high schools.

I wish I could say there was some good critical thinking evidenced in these multiple expressions of protest. I wish I could say that this whole episode was just a difference of opinion between the school administration and the students. I wish I could say that the actions of the students reflected careful reflection and thought. I wish I could say my daughter wasn't one of the most outspoken members of the outraged constituency.

*Sigh.* Here are the more troubling facts as I see them.

• All the facebook groups were started by male students. And some of the male students can't help but comment about how they want to see the girls wearing these kinds of clothing.
• The girls are defending their right to wear these clothes using arguments like their right to self-expression is being stifled and that the dress code does not allow them to be comfortable in school, a year-round climate-conditioned building.
• There are numerous comments made by students about how it is impossible for them to buy shorts that meet the school dress code requirement, and that the dress code is old-fashioned. Here's a sample quote from one of the outraged youths: "Times now are COMPLETELY different from when the teachers and staff were young. Now it is next-to impossible to get shorts mid-thigh. This may seem irrelevant but its not cool to wear shorts much longer then your fingertips....we just want to fit in...ever heard of peer pressure?"

If you're like me, you're reading all this and just rolling your eyes. The arguments are rife with problems. Like, isn't nude photography a form of self-expression? And, so, I guess all the teens and adults with jobs are being oppressed by not being able to wear whatever makes them comfortable due to company dress code policies? Or, what can we say about adults who lived through the haute pants of the 70s or the lace tops over bras of the 80s, that they are COMPLETELY out of touch? That succumbing to peer pressure and dressing a certain way solely because your society dictates that you should are qualities to be aspired to?

But more than this lack of mature logic, I'm troubled that these students, these predominantly female students, see themselves as advocates for themselves by making these arguments. In reality, they're fighting for the right to dress provocatively in their primary place of business, their school. Even when Grace talked about it with me initially, she said that even though she wouldn't dress that way because I wouldn't let her, that doesn't mean that other girls shouldn't be able to.

Why do young girls not see how duped they are? Why do they never consider that the societally-dictated fashion standard that they are supposed to conform to is not helping them?

By the way, I have to include here the best comment I read by a student BY FAR:

"This was a very stupid move for the staff. If they want to interrogate us and treat us like 2 year olds, they should know that there will be consequences for their actions as there are for ours. We are hormonal teenagers who want to make a point, AND WE WILL MAKE A POINT!!"

*Sigh.* At least I can tell you that Grace didn't author that comment.

Fatherhood part 3: Parenthood sneaks up on you when you least expect it

When my husband and I first started dating, he was unlike anyone I had ever been with before. When he speaks, it means that he has something important to say; he doesn't just go on and on without thinking first. He is careful in his choices; he likes to have things that are not too expensive and worth what you pay for them. He didn't shower me with gifts; occasionally he brought me small treats, like two or three chocolate Lindor balls.

I knew he cared for me through the small things he did. For instance, I moved away from Michigan to Maryland for grad school after we had been dating about 3 months. He was in Brazil at the time, teaching a course for four weeks. He left about 10 days before my moving date. Before he left, he purchased several calling cards for me and gave me clear instructions on how to reach him. Then we spent about 2 hours learning a little Portuguese so that when I called I could say who I was and ask for him. And so that if he wasn't home, I could understand what the person on the other line was saying to me. More or less. He explained that phone calls from Brazil to the US are way more expensive than the other way around, so he made it possible for us to talk while he was gone without breaking the bank. I spent the morning he left for the trip at his apartment with him while he packed and got ready, then we left for the airport and I told him goodbye, knowing we no longer would live close to each other at all. His trip to Brasilia took 24 hours that trip. We had arranged for me to call him a few days later, once he was settled and had gotten a chance to visit with family. 24 hours later I got a call on my cell phone from an unrecognized number. It was him. He said he couldn't wait to talk to me and wanted to tell me that his trip was a safe one. I was elated and the 10 minutes passed far too quickly.

Or sometimes he showed that he cared for me through the not so small things that took an enormous amount of caring to do. Like one time when we first starting dating, we went to conference out of town together. I was the conference organizer, so I spent every day running around, taking care of every little detail, and getting very little sleep. Late one night I discovered that I had left my reading classes on the other end of the university campus from the dorm where I was staying, and I had a lot of reading to do the next morning. It wasn't really a great idea for me to walk across campus so late, and I was physically exhausted. I couldn't move one more inch. I felt defeated. My husband was having knee trouble, bad enough trouble that a couple months after this conference it required an MRI and some physical therapy. But at that moment when he saw me falling apart, when he knew I couldn't do any more, he told me to rest and relax, that it would all be fine. He gave me a kiss and turned out the light. An hour later he came in with my glasses and quietly put them next to me while I slept. He had walked about 2 miles to get those glasses and limped for the next two days. I had to drive home he was in so much pain.

A man of few words, but words that count, who demonstrates his caring and affection through his everyday actions and activities.

That man is about to become a father for the first time later this year. It's been a long road to get here, and we are relishing every moment of the waiting together. But his parenting isn't just starting now. It started a long time ago. First as a godfather to a nephew being raised by a single mom, and then as a stepfather to my daughter Grace. So it seems kind of strange to say, what kind of a father will he be? In many ways, he has been a father for many years already. And in a way, the parenting he's so far has been the hardest parts. He didn't ask to become an ad hoc father-figure when his sister left her husband after he was cheating on her. But he did. He completely took over, even going so far as to bring his nephew to his apartment to stay when his mom was working at night. Dinner, bath time, homework, bedtime, everything. When he was a 25-year-old bachelor. He did it because someone needed to do it. When he fell in love with me, he knew there was a little girl involved in the picture. He didn't have to be a father to her or to be responsible for any part of raising her. But again, he realized that she needed someone to help her, and I needed someone to help me parent. So he stepped in, giving her rides to school, packing her lunch, attending school conferences and orchestra concerts (no matter how painful those early ones were!), and generally being available. For a long time, I was hesitant to let him do this. I thought, it's not his job, it's MY job. I wanted to make sure that I was always able to do it, and he was just doing these things because he wanted to, not because I needed him to. But as most single moms can tell you, I needed him to help. There were days when I fell down and I really needed someone to pick me up and help me out.

When we lived far away from each other, I was having some horrible medical problems. Both pain from fibroids and migraines. The migraines were (and still are, when they aren't properly medicated) very, very bad. Lights out, no sound, me in bed in agony. What is a man to do when he's 500 miles away? How can he help? He would call Grace and talk to her. He would ask her how I was doing. He would tell her how she could help me, like getting me juice and keeping the house quiet. Then he would ask her how she was, what did she need. He would ask her about what she could make for dinner. Together they would find leftovers in the fridge or something else easy she could make on her own. He would talk her through the whole thing, because Grace was afraid of being downstairs by herself at night. And he would often times stay on the phone with her until it was time for her to go to sleep, making sure she was in bed with the lights out and had her alarm set for the next morning.

He was careful with her. He didn't assume that she really wanted to have her mother get remarried, much less to have a relationship with her mother's husband. He said he would be there and he would help her, and if she wanted to start getting to know him better, she knew that she always could. It took a long time. It's still taking a long time. But he was and still is patient. For him, their relationship, should they choose to have one, should be based on genuine feelings, not on a pretend display of affection that was mandated just because he wanted to be with her mother. He's always there and always available for her.

He wants them always to have respect for each other. If nothing else, that is important to always have. So when you come in the house, say hello, and when you leave, say goodbye. Greet each other in the morning and say goodnight when the day is done. When someone does something for you, say thank you, and when you need them to do something for you, phrase it in the form of a question, not "I need X."

As a parent, you may get angry, you may be insulted, you may believe that the child has no concern whatsoever. Though you don't hate the child or stop caring about them, you feel like whatever ill-will comes their way is deserved and hopefully it will teach them a lesson. But overall, it is best to be calm. Don't resort to yelling or using insulting language. Don't be sarcastic. As a parent, you do have the right to express how you feel about the way your child hurt you and others around you. And sometimes, it's exactly what a child needs to hear.

Sometimes, many times in fact, it is good to let children make their own mistakes. Big mistakes. Mistakes that really put them up a creek without a paddle. One of two things will happen. Either they'll realize what their mistake was and do whatever it takes to correct it, or they will come to you and ask for help. Earnestly. And with humility and an apology. Sometimes, if you're lucky, you get both. But if you save the kid before they get themselves into a big mess, they won't learn not to do it again.

He has a way of looking at things in a balanced way. I think he is much more balanced than I am. I know he is calmer than I am.

It's hard to say how one becomes the parent they are. It's partly your personality, partly an expression of your values, partly what you bring to the table from your own experience of being parented, and some other stuff mashed in there that you don't know where it came from. I don't care how much someone says they've got their parenting philosophy down, the truth is that you become a parent with zero experience. Whoever it was that was your guinea pig, whether it was your nephew or your godchild or your younger sister or your step child or your biological child, you started rearing children without any prior experience. You make mistakes. But sometimes you're lucky enough to have some luck with factors that don't come from parenting directly.

It's a coincidence in my life that I've had three men who were great parents, my husband, my dad, and my grandfather. It's nothing inherent about being a father that makes them good parents, it's just who they are. I believe that who I am as a woman was greatly shaped by the way the men in my life made me feel positive about being a woman. I don't think they were trying to do that; I think they were just trying to be good parents, no matter the gender of the child.

As I've reflecting on these traits the last few days, I've come to realize that they are some parts of what makes a good parent that I have been missing. So I'm trying to learn by the example of others around me and move forward little by little. Like we all do in the task of being a parent.

Fatherhood part 2: Parenting through time and few words

My dad is a self-described plugger. He has Scotch-Irish roots, from a long line of those who emigrated to the United States during the 18th and 19th century and settled in Appalachia. His clan continued to migrate southwest and settled in Alabama, some a little over the Georgia border, where most of them continued earning their bread and butter through farming, some well into the 20th century. He was raised in a culture that says you work hard and look out for those in your family. You don't turn your back on them, no matter how bad they do you. You may need to take few steps away from one of them for a short while if they seem like they're taking advantage of you. But you don't ever close the door to communication. Always be willing to take another look at your kin and be compassionate in their time of need.

We have three girls in my family. I was the third. I hear that the pregnancy was a hard one. When my mom finally went to the hospital to give birth, she spent all day at the hospital hardly being noticed. She wasn't in active labor, the doctor just told her to go there. Sometime in the late afternoon/early evening, my dad was told there was no way the baby would be born any time soon. He decided to leave and go get something to eat. She never went into active labor until the last minute. Sometime around 6p, my mom called for nurse and said, I'm going to have this baby. I was born at 6:30p, much to the disbelief of the entire staff. (Don't ask; my mom has some amazingly horrific stories to tell about what happens when you can't help but give birth even though you're not fully dilated and the contractions are coming so fast you don't even get a chance to catch your breath, much less control your breathing.) My dad says he got a burger, then went to the library to read and fell asleep. When he woke up around 7p, he went back to the hospital and he found he had a new baby girl. I didn't get named for a week. To this day my sisters tease me and call me "the baby" because indeed, that's what I was introduced to them as.

From my perspective, I was the troublemaker in my family. I spent most of my growing years listening to my mother tell me how, when my sisters were my age, they were so much more x than I was. Fill in "x" with whatever positive character trait you can think of: hard-working, disciplined, obedient, kind, aware of the world around them, Christ-like, conservative, respectful, well-behaved...

Consequently, Heather caused a lot of disruption. Many, many parent-teacher conferences. Sunday School teachers and youth pastors and choir directors were always requesting some kind of intervention. I would try a lot of stuff, like putting together outfits I knew they would never let me wear and sneaking them to a friend's house for a sleepover, someone whose parents I knew would never say anything because they weren't so strict. I listened to music that I knew my parents didn't approve of. A few times they asked my oldest sister to address the issue. She would explain how she made the choice not to listen to some music because of the ungodly messages they contained. I listened, bored, and gave her the chance to talk. And then I continued buying my tapes and records, eventually CDs, and recording what I wanted to when it came on the radio. I bought the single to "Let's Go Crazy" by Prince when I was in 7th grade. The flip side was "Erotic City." The cashier at the record store told me that it was pretty explicit and maybe I should think about not listening to it. Well, that was enough to get me interested.

How does a plugger deal with a youngest daughter who is like this? My mother lectured and yelled and told me all the ways I wasn't measuring up. But that wasn't my dad's style.

There were times when his patience was pushed to the edge. It came when all three of us girls were completely out of control and my mother was pulling her hair out. He would raise his voice and yell. When that happened, we all knew the worst had happened. You didn't yell back. You quietly went to doing whatever it was that you should have done in the first place. But this was a rare occasion.

For the most part, he parented by spending time with me.

When I was in preschool and he was in town (he was an airline pilot), he would ride my mom's bike that had the kid-carrier on the back to the preschool. When he got there, he would strap me into the carrier and take off towards home. Every day I fell asleep during the ride home and he reached back and cradled my head in his hand and arm until we got home.

When I was in 2nd grade, I went to school on the bus by myself since both of my sisters were in middle school. The bus dropped me off at the front of my neighborhood. Sometimes he would meet me on his bike. I was too old to ride on the back of the bike by then, of course. So he would ride to my bus stop and steady my bike next to him with his free hand as he rode. When I got off the bus, we would put my book bag and my lunch box, sometimes my violin too, into the bike baskets and then we rode home together, each on our own bike.

When I was a bit older and he had an errand to run, he'd ask if I wanted to come along. If I shrugged it off, he'd press a little more and say something like 'it'll do you good. You can take a break from [whatever I happened to be doing at the moment]."

About the time I was starting middle school, he started playing backgammon. He tried playing everyone -- my sisters, my grandfather, my mom -- but no one seemed to want to keep it up. I asked if I could try. Within a few games, I was hooked. We played that game faithfully every day he was home until I left for college. I never found another opponent who was any good; neither did he. Sometimes we would play up to 10 games at a time. When we started he would say, "we will play until Mama calls you to come help her with dinner. When she calls, you have to go straight to the kitchen and help her with what she needs done." Sometimes I would be in big trouble at school for not doing my school work. He would come in and say we could play one or two games, and then straight to the homework. Sometimes my mom would have been fussing at me for days about slacking at something. On those days he would say we could play a few games, but only if we did so especially quietly. If my mother heard the dice falling on the board, she would surely come in and fuss at me about what wasn't yet done.

Through the bike rides and the errands and the backgammon games, he would ask me different things. He would ask me what I saw myself doing as an adult. He would ask about my friends, or what I liked doing most during a day. He would ask me about people I didn't like so much. The point was, I never saw it coming because I thought the point of us being together was just so he'd have company or so we'd both get some enjoyment out of playing a game or something.

Sure, he came down on me when things were bad. If I really messed up badly, he laid out strict rules as to how things should be done in order to get me in order. But in the end, he reminded me that these rules were in place so that I could get back to a balance in life, a way to get to have free time and enjoyment after the work day was done.

I realize now that I learned much more by the calm times I spent with him than any measure of discipline or lecturing he gave me. I am much more the kind of parent who talks too much and doesn't listen. Hopefully I can get past this and start parenting through the time spent in casual conversation, rather than through lecture after lecture.

Another moment of raw emotion

I'm sick of building a stepfamily. It's hard, and it feels like we're not getting anywhere. I just want to have everyone in my family like each. Just a little bit. Just a tiny bit. But as it is, I feel trapped between two people who love me and yet would rather do without each other.

I did this stepfamily thing by the book. I read every single thing I could find out there on entering into a relationship when you also have a child. I was careful to protect Grace and to guard her from premature attachment. While we were dating, my husband was respectful of Grace and of my relationship with her as a mother. He didn't force himself on her or do things that were intended to get her to like him superficially. We walked through this thing of putting us all together in one family in a careful step-by-step process where nothing was rushed.

When we were dating, my husband didn't go out of his way to spoil her. He brought her small gifts sometimes, and we all went out as a threesome and did things together. But we didn't do things that would have been exceptional just because he was around. As a single parent, I didn't take her out to some festive kid place just because; we only did it for special occasions. Yeah, sometimes we'd get some fun dessert if we went out to eat. But we didn't go out to eat at Chuck E. Cheese just because she asked. So when my husband was with us, we did the same thing. In other words, together we didn't give Grace the expectation that her mom's boyfriend was nothing but fun and games for her. He was an adult, like her mom, and together we did, well, ordinary family things. Like going to Denny's or Cracker Barrel. Once we went to a theme park with roller coasters with some other families we knew. We took her to NYC for her 12th birthday and saw Wicked. But you get the idea -- these things were for special times, not just because we wanted to make her happy at any cost.

The first year after we got married was bad. Really bad. Grace was in the habit of screaming "I hate you!" at me. My husband said that had to stop. She also liked to slam doors when she got mad. She seemed to be mad a lot more often when we were first married. He put a stop to that too. He told her she should be ashamed of herself for treating her mother so badly. He said that he would not stand by and watch her hurt me like that. Grace moved to throwing fits of rudeness that, after hours of storming and tirade, ended with the tearful explanation "I miss my dad!" After several episodes of this and my extending some compassion and talking through this with her, I finally just told her I had had enough. If she didn't have a great relationship with her dad, that was not my fault or her stepdad's. I told her she couldn't keep being disrespectful and rude just because she was mad about her father not being around as often as she liked.

That echoes to this day. She craves her relationship with her father, will do anything to get it no matter how little he puts into it, and soundly rejects her stepfather simultaneously. It's as if she feels like if, for even a second, she lets her stepfather be part of her life, she will lose all the effort she's put into getting her father to be in a close relationship with her. And rejecting her stepdad entirely is worth the tiniest morsel of attention her father gives her.

I have a philosophy of parenting that goes something like this: you must discipline a child in order for them to learn what is right and wrong in life. But the amount of time you discipline and talk sternly and the degree to which you are strict must be offset by the amount of time and the degree to which that child knows you love them and care for them. Seems simple enough when you're in an intact family -- of course the child knows their parent loves them. But a stepfamily is a whole other story. You can't leave all the discipline to the biological parent alone, but balancing unpleasant moments of correction with knowing that the child is assured of the step-parent's affection and care for them is not easy either. Especially when you're not taking shortcuts.

To the point. My husband and Grace don't really have a relationship. Grace sort of shut the door on expanding their relationship beyond him providing her basic daily needs, and he gave up on trying to have a deeper relationship with her. I know the teen years are not exactly a time when girls bond with their fathers, but still!

So I'm caught. I have a family with rifts. It feels like a stone ball shattered into pieces that I'm trying to keep together by wrapping string around it. But the pieces keep shifting and grinding against each other. They don't want to hold together as a unit; they want to fall apart from each other. When we have a falling out at our household, I just feel like giving up. I so much want this whole thing to gel, but as each day passes and I watch everything happen, I realize that we will never be a cohesive unit. Sometimes I wish I had just done things on impulse. I wish I had spoiled her and let her associate her stepdad with nothing but pleasure and joy. I wish I had made our home one of gifts and indulgences. I wish we had never even worried about her schoolwork and let her live in ignorant bliss. At least I would feel like people weren't so glum all the time, suffering through living with one another.

I guess I still believe that my doing the right thing will prevail eventually, that at some point when Grace is grown, she will look back and start building the bridges back to us again, and that we will have a family. But my fear deep down is that Grace will have no family with which she is truly intimate. She'll have a relationship with my husband and I that is full of friction, and she'll have a relationship with her father and his wife that is mostly based on lavish gift receiving, spoiling, and gushy compliments.

And I will have lost the one thing I've been fighting so hard for. Where did it all go wrong?

GIVE ME YOUR VOTE, PLEASE

I just read Amy's and Bubblewench's comments about my last post (actually, they both left their comments on the post before, where I groaned about the furnace. Update on that little problem later). They both say that given Grace's recent actions, I should consider canceling Grace's birthday party, currently scheduled for Friday night. Actually, I think they're saying more than that. I think they're saying "Heather, you should cancel Grace's birthday party."

So PLEASE VOTE on the poll on the sidebar. Please do it sooner rather than later. And please feel free to leave comments, email me more opinions, etc.

THANK YOU!

I hate this

I am a little angry. I'm frustrated. I'm disappointed.

Grace lied to me, and in a big way. It's not the first time she's done it; I doubt it will be the last. But I'm really disappointed.

About four weeks ago, Grace had 13 outstanding assignments to do in algebra. There were missing assignments in other classes, but algebra was the one that really kicked her butt. She stopped doing homework in the last term, failing partially because she didn't do the last 10 homework assignments. But once the term is over, you're off the hook. Not so with this term. 13 missing assignments still out there.

When I met with Grace and her administrators/teachers at school four weeks ago, we all brainstormed on a way for her to just get the work done that she didn't want to do. The point is, she had to figure out a way to get herself to do it, not a way for us to get her to do it. Yes, we would monitor the process to make sure it was working for her, but she needed to do it. So Grace made a master list of all the missing assignments, then put a column to check off when the assignment was done, and another one to check off when the assignment was turned in. She also made a different chart for herself to use every day at school to keep track of her daily assignments, whether she completed them, and whether she turned them in. In short, she came up with a system where she could check every minute of the day whether she was on track. Every week, she turns the charts in to her guidance counselor. She said she'd show me the charts at the end of every day.

Throughout these weeks, she's reluctantly showed me the charts. She really doesn't use them during the day. I would check her grades online, and the missing assignments (most of them) remained. Yeah, she got better and kept up with the daily assignments, but the missing assignments seemed to persist. The information on her charts often wouldn't jive with what was online.

--------------------

Me: "Did you do these math assignments, Grace?"
Grace: "Yes, I did them this weekend."
Me: "Did you turn them in?"
Grace: "Oh, I was waiting until they were all finished to turn them in."
Me: "No, turn them in now.

A following day:

Me: "Grace, did you turn in those math assignments you completed?"
Grace: "Huh, what? Which assignments?"
Me: "The assignments that you told me that you completed that still show as missing on your grades online."
Grace: "Oh, um, no, I didn't turn them in today because we got really busy."
Me: "Turn them in tomorrow."

A subsequent day:

Me: "Grace, remember those assignments you did that you never turned in? They're still showing as missing on the online grade site."
Grace: "Oh, I forgot them in my locker and I didn't get a chance to turn them in."
Me: "Grace, turn them in. Tomorrow."

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If you have ever had a teenager of your own, I'm sure you can imagine that there have not been only three discrete clean conversations like this, but rather more like 10-15, or 20, in which she gets mad because I'm using a tone of voice that isn't nice, and I get mad because she's not making sense and not clueing in to the big picture. She's also less than respectful during these conversations. I was at the end of my rope by midweek last week. She swore the 13 missing assignments were all completed, but that five were still in her locker because she kept forgetting to bring them to class, and the rest had just not been graded. I told her to resolve the situation by the next day OR ELSE.

The "or else"? She didn't get to be in the talent show on Friday night. See, she auditioned for the talent show without asking permission. And she spent an entire day after school at a rehearsal, a day when she was supposed to go to the math help center until work gets under control. She spent a lunch hour on another day, a lunch hour that she was supposed to meet with her math teacher, in the library printing out the lyrics to the song she was singing in the talent show. Despite this distraction, my "or else" seemed to do the trick -- when she came home on Thursday and told me yes, she had turned in the assignments, and all was well in the world of algebra.

We all went to the talent show on Friday night. It was ok. I won't say it was great, but it also wasn't bad. She came home, gathered her things to go to her father's house for the three-day weekend, and bid me adieu.

Then I got the email from her math teacher. Grace is missing ten assignments. Ten. Not one, not two. Not even four or five. Ten. In a bit more than three weeks, she had completed three missing assignments and turned them in. And the worst part? She went through an amazing amount of work to deceive not only me, but a huge number of other people, into believing this wasn't the case. She turned in those charts to her guidance counselor, see, so that he can also see whether her system is working. So he's got in writing her verification that she did this work. And turned it in. Only she didn't.

I called her on the phone at her dad's house on Saturday. I told her she'd better get those ten assignments done this weekend. And I told her to tell her father exactly what was going on. The result? She came home last night with two assignments done and lots of excuses, I-thought-I-turned-it-ins, I-forgot-to-turn-it-ins, and it's-in-my-lockers.

There are many levels on which this drives me crazy.

• Grace knows she's lost her permission to audition for plays at all this year. Her colleagues in theatre are doing all the cool stuff that kids get to do, like work up special bits and compete at states, do special performances, etc. But she's not getting to do it because she needs to concentrate on her core subjects before doing extra stuff. She's also lost permission to go to performing arts camp this summer. Whatever. Despite all this, she's still not getting her act together and just doing the work.
• She lied to me. Instead of just doing the work and turning it in, getting the monkey off her back so to speak, she went through great efforts to make it look like she had done the work when she didn't. What is the point?
• Grace demonstrated a poor level of priority-setting. It never occurred to her that since she was so much behind where she needed to be, and since she had lied to everyone about it, maybe she shouldn't do the talent show. Yet she chose to do it, and waste another entire week without doing the missing work, some of which is over two months late now.
• If she doesn't do the homework, then it is difficult to assess whether she's having difficulty taking tests independently. I explained this to her, I explained to overwhelming importance of getting caught up. Yet still, no change in her actions.
• Her stepdad and I have been working overtime to encourage her to nip this thing in the bud. We've said that we believe in her; we've told her that we're helping her through a process of ending school as a nightmare and the beginning of it being something she "gets;" we've done tons of monitoring to make sure she has time and space and resources to get her work done. Yet still, on "getting the work done," we're seeing little change in her attitude.
  

My resolution? Summer school. It's unlikely she's pass algebra at this point unless she has a complete change of heart, but she has the option of summer school. But since she's only needing this because she chose not to do the work when given the opportunity, I'm going to let her pay the $250 tuition, and I'm going to make sure that the summer school term is during the time she spends with her father this summer. If she doesn't have the money in time to pay for tuition, or she doesn't pass the class during summer school, she'll just repeat 9th grade.

Yeah, I'm in that mode of "let the kid learn life the hard way." It happens every school year about this time, so I just feel like I'm right on schedule.

I would LOVE to know if this will ever stop. I would LOVE to know how to get the kid to change her ways, insomuch as her ways are pretty destructive to her ability to get past this stage of life and education she hates so much.

Screw that head on straight-like

You know, raising a teenager can get downright discouraging sometimes. You focus so much on what's not going right that you hardly notice what's not going wrong. Day in and day out, I tend to focus on things that are still lacking, the ways in which my daughter still needs to mature before adulthood, the instances of her poor judgment.

In the last few days, however, I have had some eye-opening moments regarding teens and behavior and respect and all that. It was a few examples of other teens around her. When I stopped to reflect on the episodes, I realized Grace is pretty well-behaved and respectful of me.

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Event #1 - I was waiting in the guidance office at Grace's school when one of her friends walked in complaining of illness. He asked to call his mother for a ride home. The phone conversation with his mother was...shockingly rude. Within the initial 15 seconds, he was speaking to her in a tone I hear, but don't tolerate. You know, where every so often a word is emphasized and spat out with a rising intonation and some venom? It was something like this:

"My stomach hurts, I have a headache, I feel nauseous, my back hurts. I feel bad, Mom."

If it had been me on the other end of that phone conversation, I would have told Grace to either lie down and go back to class when she felt better, or just to go back to class. My opinion is, if you feel well enough to be rude, you don't need me to come pick you up from school. But more than that, I thought, what kind of a jerk kid tells his parent that he's sick and wants to come home with such attitude? Does feeling poorly give you a free ticket to mistreat people?

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Event #2 - This one I didn't witness, but WOW. This is way out there in the NO WAY category. While staying after school last week for help with math, Grace and some of the other students heard some commotion outside in the hallway. They saw the school's police officer run past and then heard some sort of altercation. The story broke the next day at school. One of the girls Grace knows was re-entering the building after regular hours. The police officer told her she couldn't do this. She sassed back, to which the officer replied he would need to call her mother. The girl threatened that if he called her mother, trouble would ensue. Sure enough, when the mother arrived, the girl physically attacked her mother, trying to strangle her in the hallway. That was when Grace saw the police officer run in the hallway. During the next day's gossip, Grace said she bet the girl would be put on probation. The reply was, she's already on probation; she's going to juvie.

When Grace relayed the story to me, she included that she thought the girl's mother should have seen it coming, since she's so permissive with her daughter. Grace said that even though the mother knows the girl smokes and the girl's boyfriend drinks, she doesn't do anything to stop it. Grace told her friends, moms need to be strict and like nazis, not all wimpy and put up with stuff. I asked Grace, am I a strict nazi mother? Grace said I was, but in a good way. Now, I'm hearing this story and I'm thinking to myself, I'm sure there are MANY things in this relationship that would benefit from some changes. I told Grace, it sounds like there's a lot of things that this girl and her mom need to work on. But mostly? I was struck by Grace's take on the whole thing. She said the girl was badly behaved, but Grace paid much more attention to the rumors about how lenient the mother was, and Grace made sure to make her opinions known about her disapproval of that.

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Event #3 - Not 24 hours after the 'she's-going-to-juvie' episode transpired, the mother of one of Grace's friends called. She said her daughter was very angry at her. The mom had found some chatting she didn't like on a virtual world website and told the daughter there would be no more visiting the site. As I was talking to the mother, I could hear her daughter raging and screaming in the background. Her mother was calling because she suggested that her daughter call a friend and talk through her feelings, rather than raging around the house. Grace was out shopping at the time, but I had her call her friend back when she returned.

Again, I didn't listen to the phone call, but got the replay the next day from Grace. The episode went like this. The girl got her online account taken away. She was angry, so she went to her bedroom, turned on her stereo, and blasted it as loud as it went. Grace asked, why did you do that? Her friend replied, I just wanted to annoy them all! Grace replied, I don't think that's going to get you your online access back. Then her friend said she was going to go on a hunger and sleep strike. Grace said, I gotta be real with you, I think that's a really stupid idea. You're just going to be sick and you still won't have your online access back.

The next day on Sunday afternoon, the same friend called and wanted to know if they could get together today (Monday, a day off of school). I thought to myself, the kid throws a major temper tantrum and completely disrupts the household for hours, raging, screaming, and the next day she's allowed to go out with friends? Huh? Not in my house. In my house, you pull those kinds of stunts, you can forget any hope you have of getting together with your friends for quite a while.

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OK, all this to say, I wasn't just taken aback by other kids' behaviors. Grace has never tried to physically assault me, but she has definitely spoken rudely and thrown temper tantrums before. So it's not like these kids are so different than her. I won't even begin to suggest that somehow Grace is better than other kids in her behavior. What struck me was Grace's reaction to all these events. She didn't just think to herself, parents suck and being a kid sucks and it's all unfair. No, she was outspoken about her feelings about parents and teenagers -- and that it's not the parents' fault that teens are rude.

I gotta be clear about this: I'm not patting myself on the back. I think there are plenty of parents out there who work hard at getting their kids to behave who don't get the respect they want from their teens. They read books, they go to counseling, they try all manner of technique. What I am pointing out is that Grace has a good head screwed on to her shoulders. And I'm grateful for that.

I am a Biomom, though with a catch

Yes, I've told Grace about being pregnant. We all three sat down for a snack two days ago. We told her we had big news to tell her. Her first response? "We're moving to Brazil?" Ah, no. Would that be a more or less drastic change? I can't decide. My husband finally told her, "Mom is pregnant." Grace is happy and finds it good exciting news. She wants to know what room the baby's going to sleep in. Always one for the logistical details, my girl is...

The Smirking Cat wrote a great post today that finally made me realize, I gotta address this topic. The topic? What it is to be a biological mother of a kid who has a stepfather. And...I'm pregnant with my daughter's half-sibling. Cat's post was about biomom-stepmom relationships, and in that discussion she brings up a lot of feelings that parents and stepparents have and cling to without evaluating about whether they are healthy. It prompted me to keep thinking. And thus this post.

For two weeks now I've known I was pregnant. In the moments when I'm not thinking, 'oh god, I really hope this doesn't end in a miscarriage in a few weeks and I discover that the one remaining fibroid tumor has grown massively and that I will be so disappointed because I will have pain and no baby,' I have been confronting some feelings I have about being a mother. I'm realizing there is part of me that sees motherhood as an extension of the love I have for my partner. And when the one child I have is the daughter of someone I don't love...

Let's just say I am confronted the taboo thoughts that you're not supposed to have.

I very much want to have my husband's children. And he wants me to be the mother of his children. But so far our experience as parents has been, well, hm. It's felt like, well...

It hasn't been the storybook tale, has it? It is a tale where he met me and I had a 9-year-old daughter. He liked me a lot. And he had never considered the idea that he would date someone who already had a child, much less had been married before. Obviously that wasn't a huge roadblock; if it had been, the relationship wouldn't have gone past date 3 or 4. All that to say, for most people, you don't expect your life to go this way when you dream about your future spouse, your marriage, your children...you don't expect that this person will have already done that once.

We value building a stepfamily. From our very first dates, we were very careful about how Grace was involved or not. I really didn't want to make a big deal about it with her. The first year we dated, there were no big events that the three of us did together. Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthdays, all this was done just with Grace and I. My now-husband and I agreed that to have these events be something that we did together as trio would send a clear message to Grace -- we were a family. But our relationship was not one that we were committed to at that point, and I didn't want Grace to get jerked around.

When we got engaged, she was the first one to find out. She found out by my husband taking her out to dinner and spending the evening with her. He told her that he loved me very much and that we wanted to get married. She was fine with that, she just wanted to know where we were going to live. (cute, huh?)

And then the drama started. Two years of conflict, the experts say. When a couple gets married and kids are already in the picture, expect two years of war and distress. It will be awful. I can say, how true that is. It was awful. So much drama. So much work establishing what the relationships were, where authority lay, where boundaries stood, and on and on and on. It finally simmered down, and now I think we are just a typical family. We get teen drama, but I don't think any more than what you get in an intact family.

Still...there's this lingering desire for our child. The one that is ours.

I admit it, I see my daughter and many times I see parts of her that I don't like. She does things that remind me of her father, things I don't like. And it is very very very very difficult to not see these things in that way. I've thought, I wish she were my husband's daughter. I've thought, I wish they were really father and daughter. Not because I would want her to be a different person, but because it would finally put to rest a relationship I ended.

Like I said, taboo thoughts. You're not supposed to have them, right? But I do. And I can't imagine I'm the only person out there who's ever thought this. I can't change reality and I can't change our family. I've gone through a lot of work to build what I think is healthiest for all of us. But it still doesn't change the fact that you wish things could be differently than they are.

Now, to the pregnancy. Suddenly I've realized that if and when I have a child with my husband, I will have what I want -- the child of my husband. He will be a father, not just a stepfather. He will get to have first say in the child's life, and not have to settle for a secondary role to someone else who (arguably) commits less time and effort into the child's life. But then the fun begins. We get to really start building a blended family. Everyone will be under one roof, and despite my taboo thoughts, I love my children all the same.

It's a topic no one talks about. No one blogs about it. Well maybe they do, but I haven't found the bloggers yet. If you know of one, PLEASE TELL ME. Nonetheless, I think I have to consider these ideas and deal with them.

As always, actually especially so, I drink in any comments. It certainly can't hurt.

An attempt at a new year's resolution

If you asked Grace right now, she would say that her mother won't leave her alone, she is on her case every minute of the day, doing nothing but lecturing and criticizing and she won't let it rest. She would say that her mom is making such a big deal out of everything and not letting her relax at all.

If you asked me right now, I would say that I'm frustrated with my daughter and I wish I could see the hints of maturity in terms of the small choices she makes every day.

Some examples of conflicts we've had the last couple days:

• I told her that it worries me that she avoids contact with the "real world," and I don't mean the show on MTV. She spends her free time watching sitcoms on the Disney channel or reality shows like Wife Swap, It's Me or the Dog, and MTV's Cribs or The Hills, reading gossip girl and clique series installments, or posting pictures of herself on facebook and then waiting for comments. I said she should spend some time finding out what's going on around her, even if it's just the weather or taking a walk around the block.
• This morning while downloading songs from the iTunes store, I objected to her choice to purchase the single "When I Grow Up" by the Pussycat Dolls. I told her she should not endorse a group and song that basically says girls like her should set as their life goal to get attention and be noticed, be sexy, be famous, have a lot of possessions, and make people jealous. I told her that if she buys this song, and 10 million other girls her age do the same, they are telling the people making money off of it to do more just like it. I stopped after saying "you have one life to live, do you really want to set such empty goals for it?"
• Last night at dinner we had a huge discussion over how Grace should make requests for things she needs or wants. She usually says, "I need a ___" and then gets impatient if we don't do something about it. We told her that the polite thing to do is to phrase a question and make a request, rather than just stating her need or want and then expecting action. After 30 minutes, she was completely infuriated and saw no point in the entire conversation.

I'm frustrated. It's not that I'm frustrated because I want Grace to step it up and correct all these things. I just wish that I could communicate with her and she wouldn't see it as criticism or nagging or lecturing or imposing or something else negative. I wish I could tell her something in a way that she understands my concern is for her well-being, for her self-improvement, for her benefit. I tell her things so she can understand them better and reflect on them as she matures. But I fail miserably at achieving that.

I've confronted some possibilities I hadn't considered. What if Grace is just not interested in something intellectual? What if she just wants to get along to get along in life?

I guess that would be ok as long as she wasn't hurting anyone. I would be saddened somewhat by it because our conversations might become superficial due to a lack of common interests.

What if Grace develops entirely different values and beliefs than mine? This is highly likely. Children rarely share the values systems of their parents entirely. Grace has been going to a non-denominational evangelical church with her father's family lately and expressed interest in being baptized because she thought this would help her feel something about God. Suddenly I realized, Grace could decide to do things that I reject entirely, like going to other countries and cultures with the primary purpose of telling them their religious beliefs are wrong.

This would be very difficult for me. Especially if it became a situation where she felt she needed to convince me of her beliefs or confronted me and told me I was wrong in my thinking. I guess I would try to avoid topics of disagreement.

It's strange, really. The things I worry about in my daughter's life are not whether she'll get into an abusive relationship or get addicted to drugs or become ill; rather, I worry about whether my relationship with her will be hampered by external factors. I mean, of course I worry about the other things, but I don't perceive them as immediate threats. However, my communication with her, my ability to find a way to relate her, seems not to be improving.

I know, it's the plight of every mother and daughter during adolescence and the teen years. How do we learn to accept one another, respect one another, and find common ground in our relationship? Is it fate that either it will work or it won't and there's nothing either party can do to change that? I hope that's not the case. My own mother and I disagree on just about everything. My adolescence and teen years were horrible. Actually, it started long before my tween years; I stopped wanting to spend time with her when I was 8 or 9. I was well into my 20s before I accepted that communication between us might always be difficult. But I made up my mind a couple years back that I simply couldn't just give up. She is my mother, and no matter what her flaws are, I can't simply stop my relationship with her or relegate it to meaninglessness or constant friction. Though the process has many bumps, at least I have some idea of how to problem solve the situation by avoiding the conflict and showing her I care about her despite our differences.

But with my daughter, I don't know how to even begin. It's as if every time I start, I mess it up. She hears me criticizing her, making her feel stupid, and not just accepting her for who she is. I fear that it won't resolve after her teen years, and that our communication and relationship during her young adult years may be even more distressed and dysfunctional.

So my new year's resolution, if you can call it that, is to figure out a way for me to talk to Grace so that she hears how I really feel about her. Yes, the content of what I say does matter, but not at the cost of her hearing a louder implicit message that I don't like her as a person.

Happy New Year, all!

Good teachers are a gift.

I recognize that my kid may not be the dream-come-true student for many teachers. She talks too much, she gets distracted, and she has a difficult time paying attention to something she doesn't find interesting. In many ways she is a square peg in the round hole that school presents to her. Thus when she gets a good teacher, I jump up and down in excitement because I know this one is worth their weight in gold.

Grace has an amazing collection of teachers this year. I really cannot say enough about this. You know, you go through years of schooling as a student and as a parent and sometimes you hit some real duds, so when you get a good one, you know it. I, for one, am the first one to tell a good teacher thank you. I know teaching has its ups and its downs and that on some days and with some students it is really a pain. I really cannot do enough for my child's teachers to encourage them that I really am appreciative for all that they do.

One teacher in particular stands out this year -- Grace's science teacher. I can't say enough about him. He is magnificent. He has so many excellent ideas about philosophy of life, er, I mean, philosophy of teaching (is there a difference?). This weekend when I read his weekly newsletter in my email inbox, I couldn't help but yell out in exuberance, "oh, YES!"

On the second page, with a bright red header, he included a short 300 word blurb about ways parents should encourage students who are less than enthusiastic about doing their schoolwork (read: slackers who text message and facebook all day instead of finishing their schoolwork). The teacher wrote, if a parent is threatening to take away privileges (like cell phone use) yet not following through on the threat, the parent is wasting their time. Rather, do what you need to do (like take the cell phone away) and say 'get to work and all will be good again.' Yes, teens will argue and yell and tirade about the swift actions rather than threats, however parents should use the line "I love you too much to argue." Similarly, the teacher uses the line "I respect you too much to argue."

I knew he was good before this tidbit, but oh, I was elated to finally see a teacher who wasn't just talking straight to parents about a philosophy of parenting but also implementing this philosophy in the classroom! Let me explain. Sometimes when I get a phone call from a teacher about a problem with Grace at school, I sense that the call is simply a gripe session. The teacher has called not just to inform me the parent of what the situation is, but to recuse themselves of the situation and place the responsibility for the events solely in my hands. While I agree that parents and discipline at home does have an effect on school behavior and performance, not every problem at school has its roots at home. When I sense that a phone call is developing towards a blame game, I ask the teacher, 'what do you do in your classroom about the situation?' If there is not a satisfactory answer, I explain what we do at home, and encourage the teacher that I will have their back if they are extra strict on my daughter in areas that are causing a disruptions in the classroom. That's usually the last phone call I get.

Word has it that in the district, I am a "tough" parent who "asks hard questions." That's good. I want teachers who ask hard questions too. I want cooperation between home and teachers and schools, not an assumption that teaching is all the school or all at home.

See, I am the parent who took away the cell phone. And the iPod and the Nintendo DS. And the Video Now. And locks the channels on the tv when I'm not at home. And password protects the wireless internet in the house. I limit phone calls on school nights, I make sure my kid dresses in a way for school that doesn't distract her or others. I'm the one who told her that no matter how much she wants to be a professional actress, she is not allowed to audition for a play until I see two consecutive grade reports on honor roll. And if she doesn't pass French this term with a B or higher, she's not even getting to take the theatre course.

I make sure that at every turn I remind her that her education is important and should be prioritized.

I had Grace read the teacher's blurb. About halfway through she started smirking. By the time she got to the end she was smiling. I told her I loved her and it looked like she had a super teacher who really cared about her success in school and in life. Then I emailed the teacher to thank him. He replied "Hey, thanks for the positive comment on the newsletter and my philosophy in the class. Grace is great in class."

Oh, YES!!!!!!!!! Grace is great in class! It happened! It finally happened! I contacted a teacher of Grace's and the reply was POSITIVE!!! YES YES YES YES YES YES!!!!!!!!!

I didn't realize how dry the desert was out there looking for a positive sign from her teachers. Over the years I have developed an ability to always find the silver lining in whatever her teachers communicate to me. Because all of what they communicate is negative. I never get a note home that says, "Grace is great in my class." I never get a teacher seeing me and approaching me to talk about Grace in a positive way. My correspondences with Grace's teachers have always been tainted with something that needs to be improved, changed, remedied, etc. I wish I could say that I am overgeneralizing on this, but alas, I am not. I have never gotten an unadulterated compliment of my daughter's performance or behavior or person from one of her teachers.

I don't think I realized how down I was about this. I'm sure Grace has felt my emotions about this. I'm sure it hasn't helped her to be working in an environment that projects this negativity upon her (both home and school).

So, two lessons learned. First, as a parent, stand by your kid. No matter how much negative feedback you get from the school, no matter how much you have to reprimand you kid to get them on track, no matter how frustrated you feel about the situation, stand by them and encourage them. You may be the only one who communicates this positive message to them. Second, as a teacher, remember that the problem student in your class may NEVER have had a teacher or coach or scout leader or counselor or anyone ever tell them they were good at something. If you approach them as someone who needs fixing, you just add to the negative message. You are not the one they have been waiting for who is going to send the right harsh message to get their butt in gear; rather, you are probably the 10th or 20th or 100th person to think you are so enlightened. These students especially need positive messages.

Tomorrow, I have a feeling we're going to delve deeper into Heather's experience as a childhood troublemaker.

The beginning of a whole new chapter...hopefully

After months of trying to get a conversation going on the topic...

After being stood up for coffee and scheduled phone calls...

After visit after visit after visit occurring only because my daughter gets desperate and makes a phone call to her father to work out the details of said visit and then telling me what she's arranged with him...

After emailing this past week on Monday (no reply) and then on Wednesday (reply with a lame excuse) and then on Thursday (reply with why it would be hard to talk this week) and then a phone call on Saturday (with a promise of calling back but no return call) followed by a late night call on Saturday in which I reached him in person...

...Grace's father finally conceded to have a conversation with me about visitation arrangements.

The conversation went well. He agreed that he needed to call me a couple days before overnights to make sure that we were on the same page with details. He agreed that he would bring her home at the time we planned on, not making Grace call me 30 minutes after the scheduled time to explain why they would be another hour before arriving. He agreed that Grace needed to be doing homework while visiting with him.

That's good. It gets better.

This evening Grace visited with her father. She was scheduled to be home at 8p, but I received a phone call at 7:20p. It was her father. I could tell from the tone of his voice what this was about. He had called to tell on her.

When I was a kid and someone else did something wrong, you found the closest authority figure and you told on the wrongdoer. That was it. You just went to an authoritative third party and you said, 's/he did something really bad!' Other people may give this activity the technical term "whining."

Back to the phone conversation between Grace's father and me. He told me that Grace had gone on the internet to check her work for science class (legitimate). After 30 minutes she said she hadn't finished it because she couldn't log on (legitimate). But she had also spent 30 minutes on facebook and now wasn't done with her other homework (oops). Then he told me that when he scolded her about this, she got very confrontational and argued with him (yes?). He told her she would have to finish her homework before she got to sit down to dinner. And so consequently he called me to explain that she wouldn't be home by 8p.

I said "sounds super." Really, it does. It sounds like he's parenting. I'm glad I don't have to deal with the unfinished homework alone anymore. And I'm glad that I'm not the only parent who's disciplining the kid. Maybe, just maybe, I'll stop playing the role of the mean parent to Grace's father's rendition of the eating-out, buying-whatever-we-fancy, amusement-park-going, goofing-around, staying-up-late-and-watching-tv-then-sleep-in-until-noon fun parent.

When Grace came home, she said she was done with homework. She happily said she'd get up by 7a and do more homework tomorrow (a day off) until she got together with a friend in the afternoon. This was the easiest coming home I think I ever had with her. I think I'm going to like this arrangement. Let's hope it lasts.

News from the front

Homecoming was fine. Homecoming was good. Homecoming was exhausting.

I am happy to be through with a solid week of self-involvement on the part of a teenager. Why do they schedule an entire week of themed dress-up days anyway? Superhero day, my god. It's exhausting to deal with a teenager who's very concerned about her social image and not concerned that she is dissing her parents in the process.

I feel relieved to have gotten past this. I kind of want her to have a date in the future so that it's not just all about us helping her get ready and taking her to the events.

The hair looked great, by the way. We also discovered that you should wear a full skirt and comfortable shoes. Remember, I had no experience with this sort of thing as a teen, so how would I know these things? Nonetheless, I wore full skirts to formal events.

Three strikes, you're out

I don't let Grace wear tank tops outside of on the pool deck and around the house with family. I don't mean cute shirts that are loose that just happen to not have sleeves. I'm talking about those tank tops that fit like a glove, sometimes with flirty lace trim, and often with a low neckline and revealing armholes. They're designed to make a woman look good. Maybe a little too good. She has about six of these tank tops. Don't ask me 'if you don't like them so much, then where did she get them?' Who bought them for her and under what auspices is a whole other blog post in and of itself.

Twice last week one of the tank tops made it to school. I won't bore you with the details, but there was plenty of warning at home that of course she wouldn't wear the tank top alone, she would wear a shirt over it. Unfortunately, when someone makes videos during the school day and posts them to the web, your mother can find out that you indeed wore only the tank top all day.

For all three years of middle school we had huge problems with what should and what shouldn't be worn out in public. Not just tank tops, but lots of outfits that were definitely not within my range of what should be worn outside in public. I've explained, I've offered advice, I've encouraged with lots of feminist lingo, I've yelled, I threatened, I've had her hair cut short, I've taken away her clothing, I've given away her clothing, you name it. Yet here we are in the first week of ninth grade with two infractions. I warned her, I'm not going down this path again. Do Not Push Me. Heed My Warning. There Will Be Consequences If You Don't Adhere To My Rules.

Grace just came in at 9 pm after a full day of school, swim practice, homework study hall, and then a game with friends. She walked through the hallway quickly past me. I looked up long enough to see the outfit, and when she was out of sight I called to her to come back. She went to the restroom. She called, 'hold on!' She came out in about 3 minutes, now in her night clothes. And then the drama began.

I took away the tank tops. All six. She's mad. She said that now she can't layer her shirts over her tank tops. Mind you, I've never actually seen her layer the t-shirts over the tank tops unless she's in front of me. As soon as she's out of my sight, it's off with the shirt and in with much less.

OK, here's my big problem with this. It's the issue of me having a rule, a well articulated rule, and that my daughter absolutely refuses to follow it. The fact that I have a reason for why I made the rule doesn't matter. If she doesn't agree with me, she will not follow the rule, case closed. I feel like my rules apply only when she there is a chance she will get caught. They really don't apply at all then, right?

Actually, there's a much bigger problem with the whole thing. It's not so much about the clothes and appearance and more about me wanting her to work within the boundaries I've given her. I know what the kids are wearing these days, and I let her do stuff that is reasonable. But when I'm telling her to curb it because she's doing a little too much advertising, it's really important to me. She just sees me getting upset over nothing and not 'getting it.' But I'm worried about a much bigger picture. She's a girly girl and she's perceived as being shallow and flighty. She talks too much, and her teachers don't like it. She says 'I just don't get math and science,' even though she's bright. And the boys hit on her. They hit on her all the time. I guess I'm lucky that she doesn't notice it as much as I do. She's just not the picture of a soon-to-be-successful woman, you know? Is it so hard to convince a girl that rising above all the girl talk and gossip is so much better than the superficiality we all regret in our adulthood?

All this to say, I don't think that provocative attire is helping her. I want her to wake up and realize that the years are passing. This is exactly the stage of life in which women fall behind, way behind. Tween and teen girls worry about what they look like and whether that boy noticed them and who's popular and how my locker is decorated and how many times I went to the mall. They don't realize that opportunity is slipping through their fingers like sand while they are distracted with the superfluous.

I've convinced myself that the hour I just spent fuming over this was a reaction to something much bigger than the single infraction itself. But I'm not yet convinced that my daughter sees the bigger picture.

Care for those you love

Grace has a friend over this afternoon. They came home from the mall at 4:30 then helped themselves to burritos in the kitchen. They've been in her bedroom ever since. Around 7:15 my husband and I decided to make dinner but we weren't sure if they were hungry for dinner. I went to the bedroom and asked them. Her friend replied, "well, what are you having?" Oh, that question rankles me. I'm supposed to fix a meal and when it's done you'll decide if it's up to your standards of taste? What is this, a short order diner?

In all fairness and in the interest of full disclosure, it's not me making the meal since I'm not standing up for more than a minute at a time right now. But that doesn't matter, because it leads me to a bigger point. It's the Parents Are People Too point.

I realized shortly after my last post that there is natural continuation to it that I must dive into. As my daughter becomes older, I expect her to become more sensitive to the people around her, less self-centered, and to begin to see the world as something she gives back to. To the more practical application of this, our relationship should change. At some point, children grow old enough to realize that their parents are human. Parents have needs, hurts, desires, and joys just like everyone else. I am not going down a path of "I'm human, I make mistakes." No, that would be too obvious. The bunny path I'm hopping down here is, "I am a person and you are a person and we have a relationship."

As a mother, I sometimes feel pressured to sacrifice my own good for the good of my child. I'm sure this is somewhat innate and no doubt evolutionarily beneficial. Protect your young no matter what. Mother octopuses spend their lifetime growing, mate once, birth hundreds of tiny babies, and guard them until enough of them are able to survive without her. But the mother is starving while she is guarding. She cannot leave the nest. Some have been know to eat one of their tentacles in order to continue the watch without dying prematurely. This is an extreme case of the kind of self-sacrifice that exists solely for the offspring's survival. I'm not an octopus, and I wouldn't eat one of my legs to save Grace no matter what. That's just gross. But for humans, assuming the lifespan goes as we expect, the relationship between parent and child starts where the child is completely dependent upon the parent and ends where the parent is entirely dependent upon the child. Along the way, the shift is constantly taking place. The question of this post is, where am I right now in the relationship with my own child?

I think it's fair to say that by time kids are teens they shouldn't take advantage of parents by saying they'll eat only if the food prepared for them is to their liking.

With respect to the last post, is it reasonable in Grace's and my relationship for me to expect her to give up on her hopes of a Shiny Happy Family that works together to make her life the perfect way she hopes it will turn out? Or have we moved to a place where she should be sensitive to the fact that I am uncomfortable interacting with her father and his family and be willing to sacrifice her idyllic fantasies in the interest of my well-being?

I am reflecting on this in my own role as a daughter. Like most women out there I have a relationship with my mother full of ups and downs. I think back to many things I have said to her and ways I treated her and I am ashamed. I know she vexes me, but she is my mother. She would give anything for me not to suffer and has sacrificed (I think) too much of herself for the happiness of her children. Very recently, in only the last couple years, I have decided I cannot treat her badly anymore. I know we disagree on things, I know she may say things that are uttered out of angst, I know that she has flaws she won't admit to. But so do I. She is a human, just as I am, but there is one big difference. She has sacrificed for me in a way that I have not reciprocated. So I am trying my hardest now to always look out for her, help her, pamper her, and defend her, even when I think she's wrong. Looking back, I wish I had started it sooner.

As a mother myself I want to be compassionate to Grace and look out for her. But in what I'm sure is a selfish motivation, I want her to care for me and be willing to give of herself in our relationship. God-willing, our relationship will exist until I am on my deathbed. I need for the two of us to continue moving towards a mutual sacrifice for one another. And I expect that someday I will be entirely dependent upon her, and she will find herself sacrificing in a way I can no longer pay back.

I hope that my discomfort in the present situation with her father and his kin is something that she can see as a need of mine and a way she can care for me even though she is young.

Being a parent makes you see things differently

I just finished previewing Election. I had forgotten so much about that movie. Still love the movie, but no way am I letting Grace watch this while she's a teenager. I think you have to be past the teen years to get the irony and not feel like any of the characters should be emulated.

This movie came out when I was 27 and I had a daughter in kindergarten. Of course I didn't watch it in front of her. I enjoyed the irony and sarcasm. I realize now that I was able to do this and because I was beyond the years of my life in which the character's actions and choices would (a) shock me, or (b) appeal to me.

Angela, from angelawd reminded me in one of her comments a few days ago that there are words worse than the f-bomb. I learned them only when I found my ex-husband's porn. I'm not making this up -- I didn't even know words like c*** and p***y existed nor what they referred to until I saw them appearing in this context. After Angela pointed this out, I suddenly felt better that I never see this stuff show up in my daughter's stuff (email, facebook, myspace, friend's comments). But this stuff shows up in Election.

So does lots of gratuitous teen sex, a blatant disregard for open communication and trust in a marriage, sex between a teacher and a teen student, rationalization of all sorts of unethical behavior (the end justifying the means), and a good dose of encouraging disrespect for others on the part of everyone.

As I was watching the movie and asking myself why I wouldn't let Grace watch it at her age, I found myself less offended by the behavior and much more concerned about the underlying message the behavior conveyed. Sex is presented as something you do for yourself, and objectify the other person. Education is presented as something only losers enjoy and pursue. Marriage is presented as just another thing you do in life, like buying a house or finishing a degree, without any real reason to do it otherwise. The notion that clear communication is something to be pursued is completely absent. Lots of revenge. Lots of manipulation.

I wasn't looking for the movie to teach something. It's a comedy. I wasn't looking for it to edify our lives. We watch plenty of dumb movies (like Blades of Glory). But Election goes one step further in a direction that I, as a parent, can't endorse to my teen daughter. If I endorse it, it communicates to her that I condone these things and that they don't conflict with my basic values in life.

Cinderella

My daughter does not like to do chores.

In our house, there are regular chores that are Grace's responsibility. Outside of keeping her room tidy and clothing put away, she needs to do the dishes each day and change the cat litter once a week. These chores do not get done without a parent telling her to do them. Someone always needs to ask her to hop to it, which is met with a groan or an excuse or sometimes just begging to do them later. Or maybe slipping away from the chore hoping no one will notice. Or the worst, arguing that the chore is not something she should have to do.

And then we come to summer. The house is much more 'lived in' over the summer, and thus there is more disarray. And more to clean up after. So there is more of me telling Grace to do things, more of her protesting, and more of general displeasure in the home.

This is a common tale. But today the level of frustration got upped a bit more. Without raising voices, without arguing, without even getting upset, a few points came up in our discussion.

• Grace told me that there are certain things that only she can do (homework, practicing viola, reading), thus she has no time for other things that someone else could do.
• Grace explained that she doesn't like it when people keep telling her to do things instead of just letting her be.
• Grace compared our household to her father's household, where she says no one tells her to do anything.

Grace's chore at her father's house is "watching the kids." I'm not sure what that entails. But she apparently is not required to clean up after herself, or keep things tidy, or do other household chores. She also explained that no one nags at her there because she doesn't ever have to do homework or discuss grades or practice or do chores.

This past weekend, Grace visited with her dad at his home. He said he'd pick her up Friday a little after 4 pm. He came by around 7 pm. As far as I can tell, she spent all weekend on facebook. All along the page are note after note after note date-stamped about every 15 minutes of new things she was doing. She says she just had the page open. But judging from the amount of activity on her page, it looks like she spent about an hour Friday night, 13 hours on Saturday and about 4 hours Sunday on facebook. And she was watching the kids?

She has access to facebook at our house. We had just discussed on Thursday night before she left for the weekend about how online social networking should be limited to no more than one hour a day.

The two worlds Grace lives in are like night and day. So drastically different are they, I have a hard time imagining the other world. I'm guessing that Grace is fed and entertained, but it doesn't seem that she is accountable to anyone or responsible for much.

A few months ago Grace's father proposed that he and I, along with Grace's stepmother and my husband, all sit down with Grace and confront her together with her lack of discipline. I was not at all enthusiastic about this. (Note, there is a big complication with said suggestion. I do not now, nor have I ever, had a relationship with Grace's stepmother. And my husband avoids talking to Grace's father at all costs. So the idea of the four of us doing something collaboratively, something that required communication, just seemed bizarre to me.) I don't think there is a common enough parenting style between the two households for such a confrontation to result in a positive outcome. And I was very unclear what the rules were that exist at Grace's father and stepmother's home. I couldn't figure out what this confrontation would accomplish, or even how the conversation would develop. What was her father envisioning? That we would all sit down cold turkey and somehow know what should be said? That we should initiate communication between the four of us and that this communication should begin around disciplinary action? That her father and I would fill in our spouses on the details and they would attend for moral support? That he and I even agree on how to parent?

Mostly what I objected to was that I should have to spend more time and energy in my parenting because (I'm guessing) Grace's father and his wife either were unable or unwilling to do it on their own. How hard is it for two married people to sit down with a teenager, say 'these are the rules of our household,' and enforce them? What good would an extra set of adults do in making this more effective?

In ruminating over all of this, I keep having this nagging thought: I wouldn't have so many battles with Grace about why helping around the house is her duty and responsibility if she didn't have a biological parent implicitly teaching her that these requirements don't really exist. And I don't think any amount of extra effort on my part is going to change that other world. So how do I get past this? How do I teach a teenager who has always lived in a house where chores were expected of her, that they are not unfair or unjust, despite the fact that she has evidence to the contrary?

Teachable Tuesday

This! Is what I learned from Grace this past week!


I was reminded that being teenager is a place of subordination and (some) lack of control over your world. Because of this situation, Grace taught me that it is better to hold fast to your opinions, your desires, your hopes, but not necessarily argue for them or debate with those who have control over your environment. 

This is going to require some explanation, no? I decided when Grace was about 6 or 7 years old that I no longer wanted to be part of an organized religion. Once this decision was made, the question I then faced was how I should parent my daughter in growing into her spiritual identity. I decided that I would be fair-minded and open, allowing her to see what various religions entailed. I would make available to her various viewpoints, and give her my view if she asked for it. This is all well and good, except that there are very few (read: no) people in her family who don't regularly attend church. In fact, a good portion of her father's family make their living off evangelism and Christian proselytizing in non-western countries. She has an aunt and uncle who are both theologians. And then there are her grandmothers... 

Both grandmothers are not happy that Grace does not attend church. They cannot figure out how a child learns to be moral and ethical outside of a belief in God and Jesus Christ. AND by attending church regularly to receive that teaching. They both have sat Grace down and asked her if she has asked Jesus to be her personal savior. At the arrangement of each of her grandmothers, Grace has met with pastors and small groups leaders who ask her about the condition of her soul. 

I have responded like this -- as long as this isn't hurting her, this is fine. If Grace decides tomorrow that the world is coming to an end and consequently that she has to move to Iran and start converting Muslims to Christianity, I'll intervene because that would not be safe. And if I saw her making choices that lessened her as a woman, I would ask her about it. But ultimately, her spiritual identity is her own. If there is one part of our identity that is ours and ours alone, it is our soul. What right have I (or anyone else) to question Grace about what she believes? 

While discussing the topic of Christianity and church and how this is something she disagrees on with many of her "superiors" in her family, Grace explained something important to me. She doesn't argue with pastors or grandparents or others who want to convert her to a religious belief. She just lets them talk. Her rationale for this (in)action is that if she argues, they would be revved up and 'lecture' (her word) longer. She has learned (and taught me) that when things are out of your control, sometimes the best thing to do is just to wait and be still. You may not have control now, but no one can change who you are and what you believe. She taught me that knowing who you are and being confident and comfortable with that is much more important than arguing with someone who will never change their mind.

My daughter is one smart cookie. I am amazed by how much I am learning from her.

handling courtesy towards others

We had a bit of a fallout last night. Well, we had as much of a fallout as I can participate in currently since I have felt like shee-ite since my surgery Friday. Grace was telling me something at the dinner table and insisting that I knew this information because I had given her the info a couple days earlier. I had not. What she was telling me, I knew nothing about. While she was giving many antics and gestures indicating her incredulity, she finally said, 'is the anesthesia still affecting you mom?' I was so thrown aback, I just told her I was offended and left the dinner table. When we revisited the issue after dinner, she said that she didn't mean to say these things and that she was sorry that my feelings we hurt. I explained that she most certainly intended to say the things she did. Then I went on to say that an appropriate apology would include her admitting she was wrong to say those things.

My husband then came into the room and intervened. He asked her to explain what had happened at the dinner table. She said 'why are you getting all up in my business? I don't want to tell you.' 

( You know, it's funny. When I write these things they don't sound anywhere near as offensive as they did at the time. I think it's worth me remembering this. No one blew up last night, and I think that's a good thing. Because the language wasn't the worst it could have been.)

The conclusion of the conversation was that the rudeness ended there, then and now. My husband promised her that rudeness like this would most certainly be met with severe punishment in the future.

The rudeness and cattiness has been escalating for a couple days now. We spent a good bit of time giving her hints that she was going over the line. At first it was just hyper-activity, or interrupting the conversation constantly to draw attention to herself. Then she moved to the kind of patronizing behavior that middle school students find oh-so-clever. You know, like saying to adults, 'are you feeling ok?' in order to mean 'you are really stupid.' By the time we got to dinner last night, I had had enough. 

But what I'm asking myself is what triggered this? Was it having her grandma in town who was spoiling her a bit? If that's it, I don't mind my mom treating her to some fun days. Mom only gets to see her once in awhile, and an afternoon out to lunch and buying a new outfit doesn't constitute seriously damaging spoiling in my opinion. But does this kind of attention cause Grace to become too self-focussed and not be able to re-align herself back to normal? If this wasn't the cause, what was? My being under-the-weather? Anticipation of graduation? Too many events in one week? I really thought that after a few good weeks (dare I say a month?) of normal discourse we had gotten past the typical teen rudeness and were conversing in a respectful way.