If Moms had Blogs

Fear

2006-11-25T15:01:00.000-05:00

When I was 13 years old, my father died. I came home from school, the day Christmas break started and could tell by the looks on everyone's faces that he was gone. Because of that experience, I have an irrational fear that each time I see someone I love, it will be the last.

My husband and daughter know that if they don't say good-bye, look me in the eyes, and let me tell them how much I love them whenver they are going out the door, I will worry and panic. It's been 30 years, and still I live this way everyday.

The possibility of death is so much closer to me now that my daughter is doing drugs. It could be as simple as a car accident while driving high, or heart damage from cocaine; one unfortunate night with ecstasy. I worry about her constantly, and at the same time prepare myself that if it happens, I have done everything I can to help her.

Today we had our first Intensive Outpatient Program session. It is for four weeks, three times a week and three hours at a time. I learned today that up until three weeks ago my daughter was doing coke every day, so I was right to be concerned and want to get her into treatment. She still doesn't get it. She thinks it's no big deal and everyone does it. She looks thin and scraggly and unhealthy. The counselor said she's in denial, thinking she can handle it and believing she's smart enough to stay safe while doing drugs.

I have a glimmer of hope that this might help. The counselor was very straightforward and didn't let her talk her way out of anything, like she can do so often with others. He made her face some facts, and she has agreed to continue mostly because I pay for a cell phone and car insurance that will stop if she stops. But I did see a little fear in her eyes and know that somewhere in there she might be ready for a change.

2006-11-24T11:47:00.000-05:00

It feels so selfish of me to want a day without drama. I feel it's self-centered to think that I have this day off from work and I would like to just have a good day filled with things I have been wanting to do - read, sew, maybe just relax a little.

Instead I'm trapped, and that is exactly how it is. Because she is not getting exactly what she wants she is weepy, whiny, outraged, and a general bear to be around. There is screaming and pleading and slamming and storming.

On the outside I am a calm wall of firmness, not giving into demands. On the inside I'm a bundle of exposed nerve endings, and know when she slams out the door for the day, I will at once be relieved and then reduced to tears. She sucks the life out of me with her demanding nature and emotional outbursts. It's not normal and hasn't been for awhile. It's over the top, bigger than life, prone to make you feel at any moment she will take her life because she is in such despair.

Instead of a day off, it feels like a day in prison. My husband took the "good" car and is off for the day of games with his friends, which I never mind because it leaves me free to spend the day as a I please. But now, because something has been taken away from her until she fulfills an obligation, she will come back and forth and try to argue it out or wear me down or engage me in a war. It takes just as much energy to be strong and refrain from joining in the drama, but still witness it than it does to actually get involved in a knock down, drag out fight. It still leaves me feeling like a limp dishrag at the end of the day.

Lunch

2006-11-12T17:14:00.000-05:00

Yesterday my drama girl and I went to lunch. I always call her that in my head because she's always been dramatic -- extreme reactions, lots of tears, very emotional. When she was three her grandparents started saying she'd grow up to be an actress, since she could really lay it on. It still makes me smile to think of the times she told people proudly, "I'm going to be a mattress when I grow up."

Our meal started out strained because she was sure I would be lecturing, but really all I wanted was to connect and try to gauge how she was doing both emotionally and physically. Most days she runs home to shower and eat and run out the door. She works nights delivering pizza, and I start work early while she's still sleeping. We ended up having a pretty good conversation, and I felt a little better knowing that right at that moment on that day she seemed to be doing okay.

We still talked about drugs, and of course she swears that although she has "tried" things, she does not do drugs. She still think pot isn't a big deal, but I told her that it's caused her a lot of problems this year, and that she's been unreliable, less responsible, and forgetful since she made pot a part of her life.

I told her we had a new counselor to visit on November 21st, but didn't say anything about residential. We'll cross that bridge if it comes. I know she does need treatment of some kind, because even though she has good days like yesterday -- there are many days that aren't so good. She can kid herself, but not those of us around her.

When we left the restaurant (separate cars - her choice - to avoid the stress of being together too long), she thanked me and gave me a big hug that I wasn't expecting. It felt really good to know that she also seemed to enjoy our time together, but more important she seemed to remember that I love her and am always here for her.

My Biggest Fear

2006-11-09T21:27:00.000-05:00

Right now is not knowing how this will all turn out. Could this be a phase that my daughter is dabbling in or will it continue to be a lifelong struggle with drugs and a downhill slide?

I've recently found out that she's been trying more than just pot. Her circle of "friends" is widening as she loses old friends. She's even less dependable, less responsible than ever and I'm worried.

I recently talked to a doctor about what's been happening, and they think residential treatment would be the best for her. There's only three months before 18 years old, so I'd like to try to help get her the help she needs, whether it be diagnosis of bi-polar, depression or drug counseling alone. November 21st is our intake appointment.

I've had some jobs in social service agencies where talking about residential treatment and substance abuse were everyday topics. I always assumed these kids came from really tough circumstances or maybe their parents just couldn't control them or discipline them when they were small. It seems so foreign to use those same terms for my daughter.

It turned around overnight it seemed. That's why I guess I'm open to the fact that she may have some type of mental illness and as they say, uses drugs as a way to self medicate. I myself use Ben & Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk and even THAT is a hard habit to break when I'm feeling down. My only side effect is being heavy -- I can't imagine my life if I used drugs or alcohol to ease my pain.

Some may think we're trying to put a label on her; give her an excuse for her behavior, but living through it, I can tell you it is real. It's a distinct and dramatic change that has occurred in the past year and it's scary to watch it unfold everyday.

The Final Straw

2006-11-04T17:38:00.000-05:00

My daughter loves any occasion to shop for clothes, and the Senior Banquet was no exception. It made me happy to see her excited about a school function. She seemed to desperately want to get that feeling of school spirit back. She didn't even mind that I pulled out the proud Mom camera and took a few shots of her and her friend all dressed up and looking like happy seniors.

The next day she told me she wanted to withdraw from school and get her GED. Through tears she told me that no one would talk to her, and she felt like an outsider. They whispered and made faces in their small town judgemental way, and she made her decision. She was miserable and anxious and didn't feel the same way about school as she used to.

We sat and cried together. I wanted to be sure that she wasn't just letting people run her out of school. There was no turning back from this decision. Would she feel bad that she didn't get to wear a cap and gown and cross that stage to get her diploma? Her response was, "why wait to graduate with a bunch of people who treat you badly and are not your real friends?".

Today she took the third and fourth (out of five) sections of the GED test. In two weeks she has the last one. She said they made her feel very smart, so I'm hoping that's a good sign that she'll pass. She wants to start community college in January and see how it goes before applying to a 4-year college. It's not the road any of us imagined for her, but it's a relief that she's moving forward for now.

Changes

2006-11-04T17:30:00.000-05:00

Up until her incident with pot (the one that got her expelled and arrested), my daughter loved her school. Freshman year she was a cheerleader and field hockey player and a pretty good student.Sophmore year she chose cheering only knowing her grades always suffered a bit when she had too much going on -- hard for her to prioritize and be organized. If she received an A in one class, another had to suffer a C for it, so she was up and down with grades.

When pep rally week came, she was the first one to stay after school to decorate the halls and gym -- she'd wear her pajamas inside out, dress fifties style or whatever else was required for spirit week. She proudly wore her field hockey track suit and her cheering sweatshirt throughout the week.Her teachers mostly had positive comments at teacher conferences, something we were always surprised about, since she could be a real spitfire (putting a positive spin on it) at home. Her report cards always noted "not working to potential", "doesn't hand in homework", "assignments handed in late" right along with the "pleasure to have in class", "good student". Organization and time management was something we worked on forever.

The summer before 11th grade she started smoking cigarettes, and much later we found out that's when she started smoking pot. She also got her driver's license and first job at a fast food place. We didn't question her choice to quit cheerleading when school started, because now she wanted to work weekends and concentrate on her classes -- this year was the most important for college she'd been told.When the first progress report came out, it was more of the usual up and downs, only she no longer had other activities to blame it on. Algebra had always been troublesome and she'd had tutors on and off.

She started having trouble sleeping and then couldn't wake up in the mornings. She was always anxious, stressed out and prone to dramatic outbreaks. Her face drooped and she lost the light she'd always had.I worried that something was wrong and we began seeing a family counselor. The counselor suggested evaluation for depression, and informed us that depression in teens can look different than in adults. One minute they can be happy and social around friends, but have a lot of anger at other times (things that can also seem like normal teen behavior).

While waiting for appointments, the police search at school took place. She was suspended, had an expulsion hearing, and was expelled. We appealed, hoping they would take her good behavior and history into account. They hadn't even looked at her school record. Both the Superintendent and Principal were unaware of her past involvement in school activities or the positive relationships with teachers. The worst thing is that they didn't care that this was the first time in all her school years that she had even seen the inside of a principal's office. All they knew was that she broke the school's rules, and she was out.

We understood that she needed to face the consequences of her actions, but feared that she would continue her downward spiral now that she could not attend any public high school in our State. School was her life -- she needed the structure, the social network to thrive. She lost relationships with school friends since she was no longer part of their world.

The hardest part of this year has been watching my daughter's loss of innocence and joy. Once she was an average teen in an average town, loved her school and her friends. Now she has a seen-it-all attitude and doesn't see the world the same way. The only way I can explain it is that she is hardened.

Senior

2006-10-29T15:03:00.000-05:00

After all the self-doubt of the past 6 months, my daughter (MD) decided to go back to high school. She wanted to graduate with her class -- most she had known since preschool.

We met with school officials who congratulated her on meeting all her requirements for re-entry and talked of putting the past behind her and starting fresh. She was excited. I was relieved. Now we could get back to normal.

She shopped for fall clothes, and had her hair cut and colored in anticipation of the first day. She had a good day and people told her she looked so different -- in a positive way. She purchased all the required notebooks and school supplies for all her classes, and I visited each of her classes at open house to make sure I was on top of things this year. I let her know I was impressed with her and all the work she was prepared to do this year. She had two English classes (11th and 12th), US History (11th), Trigonometry, Chemistry, AP Art Portfolio, and a Media Design class -- no study periods. Secretly, I was very nervous.

She was just ending her ADD study and counseling and since she had been diagnosed, we had an appointment to have her try ADD medication to help her concentration in school and hopefully lessen her desire to smoke pot to calm down.

During the first week I received a call at work from the guidance counselor -- MD was having some sort of emotional breakdown and they wanted someone to come pick her up. She had looked out the school window and saw a police car parked next to hers and felt they were targeting her and she freaked out. The guidance counselor gave me the number of a pyschologist. In a private phone conversation, the guidance counselor mentioned she felt there was something going on -- depression, bipolar or anxiety -- and we should make that appointment as soon as possible.

Wednesday of the following week her Dad got a call from the new school nurse. She wanted to excuse MD to go home and get a change of clothes (monthly woman's issue). He gave permission. He didn't realize that this was a ploy she had used with the nurse from last year.

The nurse called me two days later to apologize that she hadn't checked on MD's arrival back at school that afternoon, but she just found out that she never did check back in. That very morning I had sensed that she might be planning to skip school (her clothing gave her away), so I called the school to see if she was there. She wasn't.

The Principal called five minutes later and asked if I had known she was out of school. My answer was no. He then asked if I knew she was out of school the day before, and unfortunately I didn't. The nurse incident was Wednesday, and that was the last morning she was in school. She was now suspended for three days.

The day she went back to school I received a call at work. She was crying hysterically in the girl's bathroom that she couldn't breathe, she had to leave, she just couldn't stay there anymore. She was having another panic attack or breakdown. The sound in her voice scared me. If I didn't give permission, she was going to walk out and risk getting suspended again. We talked, but there was no reasoning with her. She didn't want to quit school or change schools, but somehow convinced herself that if she kept showing up she'd make it to the end of year.

Her Dad ended up getting her from school and spending the day with her, trying to make her realize she needed to make a definitive choice.

Warning:

2006-10-08T20:28:00.000-04:00

If you are ever suicidal DO NOT search for a mental health professional. It will drive you over the edge for good.

In our experience, it will be their day off, their vacation or lunch hour when you call. You will either need to meet with or speak to an intake person first in a social service agency or play telephone tag with someone in private practice. Since they all keep their own schedules, they seem to find it unnecessary to have additional office help.

You will wait an average of 4 weeks to get an appointment, spill your gut-wrenching history at the first appointment and then wait another three weeks before you can be seen regularly in their full schedule.

If you think antidepressants might help, they can only be prescribed by a Psychiatrist or licensed Physician, however neither have time to counsel you or diagnose you in their 15-minute time slots. Those are reserved for med checks. You must be referred by a Psychologist or Social Worker after a few appointments with them. If you do get that referral, be prepared to start the appointment process all over again.

We are still in the finding-the-right-counselor phase.

Part II (April '06 through August '06)

2006-10-08T12:39:00.000-04:00

The summer was a bit of relief for us, as everyone else was out of school too. It was normal and average to work a summer job, hang out with friends and enjoy time off.

In the midst of all that, there were weekly drug counseling appointments and medical testing for the ADD study. My daughter decided very early on that she was on the placebo, and no longer took the pills assigned to her. She would fill out her usage log in the car on the way to appointments and dump the pills in her pocketbook to mingle with the tobacco crumbles and gum wrappers. It wasn't up to me, it was her responsibility and one they said she could manage because she was 17.

She missed more than a few appointments or cancelled at the last minute, but because she was doing them a favor by being in their study, they were always kind and compassionate to any excuses or current dramas. I'd always get a call 20 minutes AFTER she missed an appointment and could only do my best to reach her and leave messages. During the last four weeks of the study, they started including me in the appointment process, and left me reminders of the date and time. I guess they finally figured that 17 year-old pot smokers with ADD aren't always the most reliable people to deal with.

In order to be allowed back into school, she had to take urine drug tests every other month to be submitted to a lab. I'd pick up the official results (received in 3-5 days) and send them by certified mail by a certain date to the school and also to the court. A few times she missed or cancelled the appointments, or worse yet they would come back positive for marijuana. That would throw me into a tizzy of making another appointment, rushing the results, and running to the post office. She wasn't sure during this time if she even wanted to go back to school, but this process was the only thing keeping that door open and worth my effort.

I wish I could say she was actually free of pot, but instead we learned that she'd scurry the day before to buy a $50 herbal remedy at GNC that somehow helped her "pass" the test. There was always a notation that her creatinine levels were low, which could result in a false negative. Each time the school accepted the results.

She couldn't understand why I wasn't happy about the "clean" drug tests as long as the school accepted them. I saw it as cheating the system and didn't want to give my stamp of approval on that method. I saw her use of pot as the beginning of her downfall -- the grades, lack of motivation, and the reason she was expelled and arrested in the first place. I wanted her to stop.

One counselor we saw for the possibility of depression/bi-polar told us that there were worse things someone can do than smoke pot. He had clients with much more serious problems. "See, even he doesn't think it's a big deal", my daughter grinned. I was furious that he would make that type of casual statement in front of her. I let him know that although there are many kids and adults who do smoke pot, it is ILLEGAL and the reason my daughter was expelled from school and arrested. So, pot got her where she was today, and it shouldn't be viewed lightly. Luckily, she decided after one more appointment that she didn't like him and we went in search of another counselor to diagnose her.

Floating along a Sea of Denial

2006-10-05T15:49:00.000-04:00

That's what I like to call my way of dealing with things. Just floating along the surface of things. I compartmentalize my life and try not to focus on all things at once or I'm convinced I would just explode. Moms invented multi-tasking, and I'm no different. I can do a million tasks in one day, however, it's the accompanying emotions I need to tuck away in their own little chamber.

When my cell phone vibrates at work, it's usually not a good thing. I'm not a big phone talker and my family knows not to call with the little things. When I answer and absorb what I'm hearing on the other end, I take a deep breath, formulate a plan and then know I can do nothing from where I am. It will need to wait until I've finished the appointments and meetings of the day and once I am on my way home I can begin to deal with it.

It's sometimes like living a double life. Trying not to attract attention, not letting anyone know what is happening. Don't want to appear distracted or incapable to higher ups. Emotions can be seen as weakness.

I've been fortunate to have been able to work part-time jobs or temporary jobs as my daughter was growing up -- sometimes taking on a full-time job for a couple of years when I wanted to purchase a house or like now while my husband is in a mid-life career change and a full-time college student. The only problem with only staying in one job for only a year or two or three, is that you are always proving yourself, never getting to get that cozy, secure, this is my job feeling, and I can relax a little bit. I've never really achieved that balance between family and full-time work -- one always suffers at the expense of the other. There's just not enough of me or my energy to go around. Work can fire me, my family cannot. I prefer my family, but need my job.

I miss the times I spent being a stay-at-home-mom, even when it was only part-time. My house was cleaner, my family was better fed, and I just had more of myself to give to others. Maybe I just had more time and emotional reserve to handle crisis then. I've always envied the physical and emotional energy of others -- I must have been napping the day God handed out those traits. :) How some women do it all is a mystery to me.

Where are all the Mothers of Teens?

2006-09-24T20:41:00.000-04:00

My blog began as a way to vent. I never thought that others would actually read it, but wanted to thank those of you who have read it and left comments. It's nice to hear from others who've been through it and encouraging to know your adult children made it through okay.

Lately, I've been discovering all types of blogs written by women through links like Blog Village, Blogging Chicks, Women Bloggers, etc. and have noticed how many other "mom" blogs there are out there! Most are moms with babies and younger children or pre-teens -- those that find motherhood crazy and joyful at the same time. Where are all the mothers of teens?

I have to wonder if like me, they've found motherhood no longer fun? Or are they too busy with their own drama to even find time to write it down? It used to be natural to compare notes with other parents, but I find myself ashamed of all that's happened to us this past year or so. It's not something I want to share with others outside of this blog or immediate family. Kids dabbling in drugs, being expelled from school or seeing a psychologist for mood disorders are not everyday topics you chat about in the office or grocery store.

What about mothers of 20-somethings? Is it possible that now that their kids are (hopefully) safely out of the nest, they no longer need to define themselves by motherhood alone, as they did for so many years?

Drama

2006-09-17T17:43:00.000-04:00

= any situation or series of events having vivid, emotional, conflicting, or striking interest or results (dictionary.com)

Part I - Junior Year (Sept. '05 - April '06)

girl smokes pot
grades go down
family counseling (girl referred to psychologist for depression/ADD)
girl cuts classes and a day or two of school
detentions (misses them)
suspended one day (parents find out after the fact)
still waiting for that psychologist appointment
drug search at her high school
along with others, girl is arrested & calls mom crying to come pick her up
mom drives 50 minutes from work and arrives at police station, can't stop shaking
she can't pick girl up or get any details, because her 17th birthday was 3 weeks ago and she is considered an adult
police will bring girl to court that day, mom can pick her up after arraignment
suspended from school for one week, awaiting expulsion hearing
first psychologist appointment
police report shows two baggies found in girl's car - one with two seeds; one with a twig testing positive for marijuana
because she is 17, hers is the only name listed in all the local papers
hearing result: expelled from school for rest of junior year
will not be able to attend any public school in the state
will not be able to earn credit from any evening school or tutoring
may be admitted back in September with monthly clean drug tests, drug counseling, and no more trouble with the law
2nd psychologist appointment
parents meet with a lawyer, appeal the decision, and await another hearing
2nd hearing result: same
court sentencing date - she is on pre-trial probation - same requirements as school
psychologist refers girl for further testing of ADD - Educational Evaluation
girl not in school, so parent's must pay for $500 evaluation not covered by insurance
because she is 17, difficult to get an appointment - she's not a child, not an adult
drug counseling begins; girl's symptoms qualify her for an ADD study that includes 16 weeks of cognitive behavior therapy, full ADD evaluation, and medication or placebo
Relieved to have found help -- hoping this is the turning point

This concludes the wallowing portion of today's blog

- it's the first time I've "said" it all out loud

Child Expert

2006-09-16T14:00:00.000-04:00

My co-worker is a gusher. Mostly a terrific person, she's always full of stories of her delightful little boys, their antics and "children say the darndest things" kind of one-liners. She's so in love with them that it's embarrassing at times to listen to the details she divulges. It's almost unbearable to hear her imitate their toddler voices and lengthy pauses to share their latest cutesy take on life. I cringe for her as I read the body language of her office audience.

We all have children, we all think they are adorable (before they turn 15 - wink), and we all like to talk about them now and then -- it's the human experience. But so enamored of motherhood is she that she can't recognize the fact that she works with an office full of other mothers with children younger and even more adorable than hers.

It doesn't stop her from offering all types of expert advice from breastfeeding to picking out a daycare. When insert boy's name was insert common parenting dilemma, I did blank is how many monologues start when someone else happens to mention their child's recent cute moment. She does it with such an air of confidence, it's hard to believe she doesn't have her own talk show or at the very least, an advice column in Parent's Magazine. She really believes she has the answers, and I really wish she did too.

Only two of us are on the other end of motherhood -- teens and beyond. I came crashing down off my motherhood high a few years ago, and the other mom has just sent her second and last son off to college. She still rides an emotional see-saw every day with one of them. We know for fairly certain that there will be a day when our co-worker will be struck with the harsh truth -- what you put in to them is not always what you get out. Like young celebrities gushing about their forever romance in People magazine only to break-up a short time later, those words will haunt her one day. Her fall from the motherhood pedestal is destined to be even more painful than mine.

Murphy's Law

2006-09-09T20:21:00.000-04:00

Wouldn't you know that now that I've published my Mom Blog that my little drama girl has had two good weeks? As her Mom, I am ecstatic -- life has been somewhat calm and peaceful. As a blogger, there's no drama to report, and I'm actually keeping my fingers crossed that it lasts awhile.

I was one of those Moms who NEVER thought the things that had happened this past year or so would happen to MY child -- never. I raised her right. I only worked part-time, taught her manners, spent hours taking her to libraries, plays, zoos, and play-dates. I was on the PTO and even volunteered in the school library each week to do storytime for first and second graders, and then helped all her friends take their accelerated reader tests. I was pretty sure that not only would she grow up smart and beautiful, but it would be smooth sailing into adulthood.

When other kids got into trouble, sometimes they were kids that I already knew had an uphill climb from the time they were young. Sometimes it was a kid from what people used to call "good families" -- the ones with money or good local contacts and high profiles. It must've been overindulgence that caused them to stray -- too much time on their hands, too many things given to them for nothing. I admit that I was judgemental sometimes. I just assumed it had to be something the parents did or didn't do -- not completely their fault of course, but they must've slipped up somewhere. Those things happened to other kids, not mine.

Well, I can tell you that you NEVER know how it is going to turn out. I used to think it was a tried and true formula -- put in so much love and dedication and they will turn out just the way they should.

Is there anyone else out there who used to believe that or believes it now?

Aren't All Parents Equal in the Beginning?

2006-09-03T12:42:00.000-04:00

I'm not referring to every person who has given birth, but to those parents who lovingly await the arrival of their child(ren). Don't we all start off wanting the best for our child? Don't we hope to be the best parents ever or at least not repeat the mistakes we believe our parents made?

When my daughter was small, I loved being a mom. I even thought I was pretty good at it. I'd heard that the teen years could be rough, but I braced myself and knew I'd get through it. I understood the teen rebellion, the need to carve out a place of your own in the world and separate from your parents, and of letting her become her own person. For the first couple of years I did okay -- I let the "I hate you's" roll off my back as part of normal tween development. I used firm discipline when she fell off the tracks of respectable behavior, trying to "teach" her the lessons of life in a nurturing way.

As an early childhood professional, I've always believed that the first three years of life are developmentally important. This is when children learn values, behavior, the basics of life. I always believed in this poem...

"Children Learn what they Live"

If a child lives with criticism,
He learns to condemn.

If a child lives with hostility,
He learns to fight.

If a child lives with ridicule,
He learns to feel shy.

If a child lives with shame,
He learns to feel guilty.

BUT

If a child lives with tolerance,
He learns to be patient.

If a child lives with encouragement,
He learns confidence.

If a child lives with praise,
He learns to appreciate.

If a child lives with fairness,
He learns justice.

If a child lives with security,
He learns to have faith.

If a child lives with approval,
He learns to like himself.

If a child lives with acceptance and friendship,
He learns to find love in the world.

Now I don't believe it all. Having showed my daughter respect somehow taught her that she deserves respect, but can treat others poorly -- friends and family. She actually does almost the exact opposite of everything we've tried to show or do for her. She thinks she deserves all the good, but has not learned to give it back yet.

What about those children who grow up in terrible circumstances and are caring, compassionate, and go on to do such great things? If this poem were true, that wouldn't be possible. I think it is important to do the best you can do, but don't beat yourself up (like I did at first) when your child takes a different path than you planned.

In family counseling, a counselor once told me that she is her own person with her own personality and probably will not change much as an adult, and I can't really do anything to change that reality. It was at that point I mourned the loss of my daughter or the memory of who she was when she was young. It took a long time to accept her as she is and to forget who she used to be. When I finally let go of that and stopped waiting for her to "come back", things got easier.
______________

Being a parent is by far the hardest thing I've ever done...

2006-09-02T17:00:00.000-04:00

When I was young I used to say that I never wanted kids – ever. I never wanted to have a child who would hate me as much as I felt I hated my Mother.

But of course, you fall in love, get married, have a baby. Marriage ends -- you and baby are together forever. In the early years it is the physical pain – being sliced open and having to heal, never sleeping, never even having time to shower, having to leave the house and sit in a parking lot up the street reading a magazine just to have an hour to yourself without always “doing” for another. The diapers, the baths, the feeding, and holding their hands while they learn to walk. Time is never yours again. Luckily you get paid back in sweet smiles and chubby hands holding yours. Kisses and I love you’s and giggles that make you melt.

As they get older, there are the bake sales and PTO’s, play dates, birthday parties, softball practice, dance classes at the Y, and again it’s all about them and doing for them. Still there are the nights of storytelling and snuggling together on the couch to watch Disney movies as your payback, so it never really seems like work.

Twelve approaches and it’s all about friends and sleepovers and gaggles of girls who are loud and messy, eat you out of house and home. They argue with each other, hurt each other’s feelings, betray each other and you feel each blow to your heart as if it was done to you, not your daughter who is always upset, crying, hurting.

Time keeps passing, now it’s trying to keep them safer than they would keep themselves – curfews, rules, groundings when bad choices are made. Groundings that make you share the house 24 hours a day with someone who is angry with you and is moody and prone to outbursts. They are bored and want to watch tv with you or talk to you because you are the only choice. So, you let them change the channel just to spend time with them. It would easier to let them go and do what they want, but you are doing it for their own good, not your own. More activities to pay for and drive to and watch – cheerleading, field hockey – driving them and their friends everywhere. Again, you put yourself and your life aside for your child.

Then comes the scary stuff – stealing from friends and family – clothes, money, electronic gadgets; shoplifting at the stores for fun, climbing out the bedroom window and driving with friends while parents sleep, drinking, smoking pot, other drugs hopefully not, but you never know. More groundings, privileges taken away. More emotional stuff – romantic relationships, drama, hearts being broken – again you feel it too.

The year of the car and work. Grades are going down, time management becomes an even bigger issue. Friends and fun fill up more and more time. You try to help by contacting teachers, arranging tutors, changing curfews. It doesn’t matter – friends come first. Smoking cigarettes, smoking pot, drinking, skipping school, being suspended – all new things that remind you that 17 years in and your life is still all about them and trying to keep them safe against their will. Arrested. You couldn’t protect them and they got caught, but maybe it will be the turning point. Reality. Consequences. Maybe it will turn things around. Time out of work to pick her up at the local jail, court dates, expulsion hearings. You’re still putting in all the time and effort, but it doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

She tells you she only lives here because of her friends. If not, she would be 2 hours away with her Dad because you’re too hard to live with – you don’t trust her. You pretty much ruin her life. It’s too much to ask that she realize how hard this has been for you as well, how much you are trying to help her, how much good you want for her life, but it’s out of your control. It hurts that after all these years, all the time, the energy, the physical and emotional pain, all she wants to do is be away from you. I guess that’s what adulthood is about – wanting to live your own life. It’s perfectly normal, and believe me parents look forward to that day as much as you do, but why do the actual words when spoken hurt so much?

How and Why I got My Mom Blog on...

2006-09-02T15:17:00.000-04:00

When I was a teenager (1970's) and got in a fight with my Mom, said something inappropriate -- I was backhanded and sent to my room and usually grounded. No television watching, no phone calls, no music.

"You just sit there and think about what you've done", she'd say. And I would. I'd lie on my bed like a good girl trying to be as repentant as I could, hoping she would notice my good behavior and reward me with a short sentence. Nope. I was out of sight and out of mind and spent many days and weeks grounded this way.

To my friends I just dropped off the planet. They'd call and hear I was grounded and couldn't talk to them, so they would stop calling. My mother was wise -- she rarely grounded me during the school year -- only in the summer. There was one entire summer that I lived life sitting by my open window listening to the sounds of others having fun -- neighborhood parties, kids splashing in the pool, convertibles driving by blasting the radio.

Fast forward a few years to my "baby" brother becoming a teen. At almost 6 feet tall, he'd get sent to his room and use a different tactic. He'd explode with anger. He would kick the walls, bang on his door, throw things -- my mother would come running up the stairs screaming obscenitites and then, "You stop banging my doors and damaging my house -- get the hell out -- RIGHT NOW." Off he'd go, practically skipping.

Was that all it would've taken? I learned, like many others, that it sucks being the first-born! You are the test run, the one who absorbs all the parental energy. Baby brother was smart -- he could see that things weren't working for me and changed it up a bit. The parents were tired, broken down, and he pretty much got away with murder. We laugh about it now -- how stupid I was to obey so blindly, but it was a lonely and depressing time being a teenager.

When my own teen daughter found web sites like Live Journal and My Space and started to vent her own teen angst, I was actually glad she had an outlet. She could post every insignificant happening of her day and what a b*tch her Mom was and she'd have posts from a dozen "friends" trying to console her. When she was angry and wanted to explode or depressed with no hope, I didn't have to worry she'd be so distraught as to want to end her life (as I had often done at her age). I could hear her banging away at keyboard in the next room and know that she had someone to talk to about it, someone to hear her pain.

When she broke our rules and had to deal with punishment, off she'd storm to pound out her side of the story, adding in exaggerated details and eliciting sympathy from cyber buddies for her terrible life. If they only knew, I'd think. It's so easy to create an online persona. You take a few edgy photos of yourself-- if you are chubby you just snap a pic off your blue eyes. Bad skin? Tilt your head and let those bangs fall over half your face. Purse your lips and make that rock and roll hand sign -- squish all your friends faces together, laugh and show what a good time you're having.

What if Moms like me had blogs? A place to go and vent about my daughter's evil behavior and how it sucks the life out of me every day as I try to be a good parent? Why can't I have a forum to spout about the days she screams how much she hates me and that I'm a f***ing b*tch that is trying to ruin her life? Well I can, and here it is.