When your "kid" becomes an "adult"

Being a parent is weird (and hard). On the one hand, our job is to nurture our children, to give them love and a shoulder to cry on, to provide them with shelter, food and clothing, to protect them from the evils of this world, and to teach them right and wrong.

On the other hand, and I truly believe this, one of our chief roles as parents is to teach our children to be independent and self-sufficient, i.e., to not need us anymore. Call it planned obsolescence. Kind of like your iPhone.

This summer, shortly after our just-turned-17-year-old daughter packed up her car with most of her clothes, along with her Vitamix and ice-cream maker, and drove off to Long Island to work on a farm (with a bunch of twentysomethings), I realized the spouse and I had entered that second stage of parenting.

Part of me, a very large part, is enormously proud of the teenager for being so independent and grown up. (She does her homework without having to be told or nagged to do so, loves to cook and is very good at it, is a good, safe driver, and does her own laundry.)

Another part of me, though, will always see her as my little girl (and not just because she's still shorter than I am).

While I worked very hard to make sure our daughter could take care of herself, and be self-sufficient (and succeeded!), I miss being needed (for more than a cash infusion)... and the hugs (though I still get those, just not as many or as often)... and waking her up each morning with a kiss on her forehead (she now sets her alarm and gets up before I do)... and our daily after-school, or after-camp, discussions. (Since she went to Long Island, we rarely hear from her, typically only when she has a money-related question. To find out what she's been up to, we log onto Facebook and Instagram.)

True, we still have a year before the teenager heads off to college. But she has already informed us that she will be very busy this year and to basically "not wait up for her."

Sigh.

I am happy she is happy. (We spent many years dealing with her being unhappy, and I will take happy over unhappy every time.) And I am proud our daughter is becoming (is?) an amazing adult -- and look forward to hearing about all of the amazing adventures to come. But this being a parent thing is a lot harder than I thought it would be.

You might have a teenager if...

How can you tell your children are officially teens (other than, you know, knowing how old they are)? Here are 11 signs to watch out for.

Note: Any resemblance to actual, specific teens is purely coincidental. 

You might have a teenager if... your daughter thinks that a tight, low-cut shirt, a mini skirt, and Uggs are the perfect winter outfit; and your son insists on wearing a t-shirt and shorts to school if it's over 32 degrees out.

You might have a teenager if... you have never heard of the bands or singers your child listens to.

You might have a teenager if... you start to wonder if those ear buds were surgically implanted in your child's ears.

You might have a teenager if... your child cannot go 30 seconds without looking at his or her smart phone.



You might have a teenager if... your child can type way faster than you on his/her smart phone -- and offers to teach you how to use your smart phone.

You might have a teenager if... she says she was "talking" with her friends when she was actually texting or Facebook messaging or Snapchatting with them.

You might have a teenager if... you know what Snapchat is.

You might have a teenager if... when you ask your child a question, make a request, or offer advice (or, okay, just speak), she rolls her eyes.

You might have a teenager if... when you ask your child to do something, she cuts you off with a "Yes, mom," like you are the most annoying person on the planet.

You might have a teenager if... your child thinks you are the most annoying person on the planet.

You might have a teenager if... they think you can't possibly understand whatever it is they are going through.

Scientists prove what moms have long suspected about teens

In breaking scientific news, researchers from the Universities of Pittsburgh, California-Berkeley and Harvard claim to have scientifically proven what moms have long suspected: that the teen brain shuts down when subjected to criticism from mom.

Allow me to illustrate with this Gary Larson cartoon:

(Apparently teens and dogs are not so different, at least when it comes to criticism.)

So next time, moms (and dads) when you are criticizing your teen, and you yell at them "Are you listening to me?" The answer is, no.

Life with Teenage Daughter Who Now Drives

As some of you may recall, two weeks ago the teenager acquired a driver's license -- and my nine-year-old Mini Cooper. At the time, I was rather stressed out, first about her road test, because the teenager was so stressed out, and I literally felt her anxiety (and yes, I am using literal in the literal sense). Then because OMG! MY DAUGHTER HAD HER DRIVER'S LICENSE AND WAS DRIVING... MY CAR! At 16!

[And she'll have fun, fun, fun 'til her mommy takes her Mini away.]



As a child of New York City (i.e., Manhattan), I had zero interest in acquiring a driver's license or a car when I was 16... or 17. Why go through the hassle when you can walk, or take the bus, or the subway, or a taxi anywhere? Indeed, in New York (i.e., Manhattan) a car was a burden, and a big expense, where people paid more for monthly parking than they did in rent.

It was only because my father INSISTED that I learn how to drive before I went off to college that I took driving lessons at the end of my senior year of high school. And let me tell you, learning how to drive in Manhattan is not for the faint of heart (nor is the New York Department of Motor Vehicles -- shudder). And even though I did, in fact, acquire my driver's license before heading off to college, I had zero desire to drive in the City (and still don't).

However, I realize that in the suburbs, especially where we live, being able to drive gives teenagers a sense of freedom and independence. Not unlike the feeling(s) I and my friends had being able to get around the City on our own.

So now each afternoon, instead of rushing off to school to pick her up, or take her to the gym or some other activity, I sit alone in my office, typing on my computer, my cat napping in my lap, repeatedly glancing at my mobile phone, waiting for her to text me where she is and that she is okay, and waiting to see or hear the Mini.

And I wait. And I watch. And I wonder.... How did she get to be so big, so independent, so grown up? What happened to my little girl?

The hardest 90 minutes of my life as a parent (to date)?

The hardest 90 minutes of my life as a parent (other than labor, which was the hardest 18 hours of my life)? Waiting to find out if my daughter passed her road test, to obtain her driver's license.

I think I was a bigger wreck than the teenager, who was pretty anxious and nervous. Which is why we had the spouse go with her. (His nickname, back in the day, was "the human Quaalude," for his immediate calming influence.)

The appointment, at her driving school, in a car she had taken lessons in, was for 7:45 a.m. So she and the spouse left the house at 7:20 a.m., to make sure she got there on time, which they did. However, she didn't actually start the test until 8:30. (WTF is that all about?)

Can you say nervous mother?

After pacing around the house, changing light bulbs, doing laundry, cleaning the cat boxes, wiping down ceiling fans, texting the spouse, for what seemed like an eternity, the spouse texted me at 8:50:

"Pass."

"Perfect score."

"THANK YOU JESUS," I texted back (even though we're Jewish -- though so was Jesus).

Now the teenager has to wait 48 hours. Then go to the DMV (again with the spouse) to get her actual license, which will entail waiting on another line, for at least an hour.

Then I will officially hand over the keys to my Mini Cooper and the real worrying will begin.

So, any words of advice from you fellow parents of teenage drivers? This is a whole new world for me, having grown up in Manhattan, where no one drove, at least not teenagers. And I am terrified.

UPDATED 9/26: It's official. The teenager is now licensed to drive. Got her license -- with a really nice photo! -- from the DMV this morning.

Teaching your daughter the facts of life

First a couple of quick disclaimers:

1. By "facts of life" I am not referring the 1980s TV series The Facts of Life. Though you could learn a lot about the facts of life by watching The Facts of Life.

2. I am also not referring to sex, though you really should talk to your child about sex at some point, preferably before they have it.

No, what I am about to refer to are the real facts of life -- or, perhaps, more accurately, the realities of life. Those unpleasant realities that we all encounter, at some point, which make us gnash our teeth and stomp around and complain.

Well, forewarned is forearmed, I say. Herewith, six realities of life. (Listen up, girls. Guys too.)

1. Life is unfair. Deal with it. You may be the best and/or the brightest. You may do all the right things. That doesn't mean you will be successful or rich or happy. Unless you are really good looking. Good looking people have been shown (or proven) to get more jobs, more money, and more promotions. Though that doesn't mean they are happy!

2. Honesty isn't always the best policy. Yes, yes, yes, we all know that lying is bad and no one should do it. But sometimes a situation calls for a fib, or a white lie, to protect someone's feelings -- or your ass from winding up in a sling. Just don't let me catch you lying to me!

3. Cheaters sometimes prosper, but eventually they get caught (most of the time). Cheating (e.g., copying homework, plagiarizing, using someone else's test results or Cliff Notes) is wrong and dishonest. When you cheat, you don't learn. Sure, it's the easy way out, and you probably see people doing it at school, who get As or awards, and you think, "Why didn't I cheat instead of blowing a whole weekend studying?!" But the reality is that while lots of people cheat, and often get away with it, they are missing out -- and eventually they get caught. And it typically doesn't end well.

4. It's not what you know but who you know. (See 1.) As most of us have learned the hard (or, perhaps, the easy) way, who you know -- aka networking -- is typically more effective at getting you a job or a hard-to-get reservation or ticket than what you know. So as you go through life, work hard, but also take the time to cultivate people -- teachers, parents, friends, coworkers, bosses. Be polite and helpful -- and don't be afraid to ask for help, an introduction, or a reference. Just be prepared to do the same -- and remember to say "thank you."

5. Most people suck at time management, aka, People (or their lives) are messy and disorganized. Don't take it personally (when they don't email or text or call you back). As someone who prides herself on being organized and efficient and a logistics whiz, who immediately returns emails, texts, and calls, this lesson was very hard to learn -- and I'm still working on the "don't take it personally part." But trust me, kid, you will be a whole lot happier, or saner, if you just assume that most people are bad time managers and will not get back to you, possibly ever. If it's important, you follow up with them. Repeatedly, if necessary.

6. Guys, especially teenage guys, typically go for girls with nice (or big) boobs -- and tall, skinny blonde girls with pretty faces. True, there are some exceptions to this rule. Unfortunately, I can't think of any right now. See Rule 1.

There are probably some gems I am missing. If you all think of any, please feel free to add it or them to my list via the Comments.

UPDATED 7/9/14: Just thought of one more.

7. No one cares. Unless you are famous. Most people are self-centered and self-absorbed. They don't care about your (seemingly petty) problems. Unless you are famous. Then everyone cares.

They grow up so fast...

but they'll always be our "babies."

Today the teenager turns Sweet 16. Though she wasn't always so "sweet," as this picture can attest to.

(We were so proud. No other baby came close to capturing the title "Crankiest Baby." And for the honor, we received a giant basket of baby products from Whole Foods.)

Like most milestones in her life, starting with her birth (18 hours of labor -- and I'm still laboring), this one was greeted with screams and tears. Indeed, what should have been a joyous occasion, getting her learner's permit, quickly turned to sorrow when our local DMV refused to accept the teenager's carefully assembled paperwork, which included her passport, her official school ID, paystubs from work, bank statements, two pieces of mail addressed to her, and a report card.

What just-turned-16-year-old, btw, has all of that stuff?

Yet it was not good enough for the DMV. No. They wanted AN OFFICIAL SCHOOL TRANSCRIPT or else her social security card, which I thought we lost. ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME?

Long story slightly shortened: The teenager returns home in tears and proceeds to prostrate herself on her bed while I turn my filing cabinet upside down in search of her social security card, which I found. Then I hauled her out of bed and insisted she go right back to the DMV, with her father (bless him), and convince them to let her take the test. So she could drive this fine piece of British machinery, my nine-year-old Mini Cooper, Roger.

And yes, I fully expect her to drive around in the Mini with the bunny ears and nose on the car.

Fortunately, the story has a happy ending.

The bureaucrats at the DMV let her take the learner's permit test -- and she passed. Crisis averted. Onward and upward.

It's funny. When I gave birth, like so many women before me, I thought the worst pain had past. (Did I mention I was in labor for over 18 hours -- and then couldn't sit for another six weeks?) But it was only just the beginning.

As I have learned, being a parent is far more than giving birth and providing food and shelter and clothing to your offspring. Or chauffeuring them around. Or attending recitals or soccer games. You need a master's or PhD in psychology or child development and the patience of a saint (neither of which I have, but I'm working on it).

But I look at my beautiful, smart, talented (did I mention she is an amazing cook and makes us dinner every night?) daughter, now 16, and figure the spouse and I must have done something right.

I just hope to hell she gets into college, or else mommy is going to need a room at a nice sanitarium. 

Anyway.... Happy birthday, daughter. I think you are amazing, and I -- we -- love you very much.

It's like Santa... for your vagina

This is either one of the most brilliant marketing campaigns or concepts for selling feminine products or one of the worst -- depending on whether you think it's cute or inappropriate for an 11- (or possibly 12-) year-old girl attending sleepaway camp to play Camp Gyno.



[H/T to Melanie]

Introducing HelloFlo, a new tampon and sanitary pad subscription and delivery service. (Think of it as the Dollar Shave Club for menstruation.)

In a world filled with CVSs, Walgreens, Walmarts, Targets, and supermarkets, I personally don't see the need for a tampon delivery service, even if the box contains candy. (Though as any woman with PMS can tell you, really good chocolate and a box of Midol or Ibuprofen would be more appropriate.) And even if you are the sort who hates to shop for feminine products, how does a box of tampons shipped to your home help you if you are "surprised" at the office or on vacation?

Or maybe this a brilliant idea and I just don't get it. What do you think?

Negotiating with your teenage daughter

That post title? It's a lie. You cannot negotiate with teenage girls. Oh, you can try, but it won't do you any good.

Exhibit A

The scene: A video chat with the teenager, who is studying in France.

The spouse: So, do you need us to bring you anything?

[We are about to fly to France to visit the teenager and celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary.]

The teenager: Could you go to Penzey's [amazing spice store not particularly close to here though not that far] and get me some Tandoori spice?

Me: I am not going to Penzey's to get you Tandoori spice.

The teenager: Then why did you ask me if I needed anything?

Me: I have to run errands in town and go to Stop & Shop -- and have things to do. If they have Tandoori spice at Stop & Shop, I'll get some, but I am not going to Penzey's.

[Teenager is pouting.]

The spouse: If I have time tomorrow, I will go to Penzey's. [Big smile from teenager.] What do you need Tandoori spice for?

The teenager: We invited over H and C [two girls in her program] and we all love Indian food, but we don't have any Tandoori spice. 

Me: Okay, I'm going to run errands. Bye.

Meanwhile at Stop & Shop... there is no Tandoori spice to be had. Jamaican spice? Yah mon. Italian spice? Si. Herbes de Provence? Oui. Moroccan spice? Yup. Dozens of spices representing practically every ethnic cuisine, but no Indian or Tandoori spice (though they did have Curry spice and turmeric and coriander).

Two spice aisles and ten minutes later, I was back in my car, heading nearly half an hour away to Penzey's. Sigh.

[Note to the teenager if you are reading this: No, I did not get that amazing-looking Indian spice gift pack. I got you a small container of Tandoori spice, which I bubble-wrapped and will pack in my suitcase. However, had I seen that gift pack, I would have purchased it as a gift for your host mom. And no, I am not going back to Penzey's to get it.]

Best response to a standardized test ever

This week my daughter and millions of other students across the United States are taking their ERBs. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the ERB, which stands for Educational Records Bureau (as opposed to Epic Rap Battles), it is a series of really boring, pointless standardized tests designed to assess students knowledge of basic subject matter.

Today also happens to be National Pi Day, as in 3.14. And so when my daughter finished her ERB test with time to spare (perhaps a little too much time to spare), she composed the following note, written on the last page of her ERB test booklet. (Click on the image to get a larger view.)

For those of you who, like me, can no longer read tiny print or up close, here is what she wrote:

THIS must be PAINFULLY BORING for you, even though you are getting paid and I am NOT. So here's a piece of pie because it's Pi Day. My favorite flavor is probably pumpkin with LOTS of cinnamon. :-) How about you? I hope this made your day a LITTLE better, or at least a bit more enjoyable. Remember, you're special. :-) xoxo, Abby  P.S. I wasted 15 minutes on this. Go me. :-O

While I know I should be horrified, or at least slightly appalled, I think it's great. It is ridiculous the number of standardized tests students, at least in my state, have to take, year after year. And they waste time that could be spent actually learning something.

So, yes, you go, Abby. I love you.

Are we raising incompetent human beings?

When I was growing up, my father, a confirmed male chauvinist and bachelor, may he rest in peace, used to say to me, "There's nothing more useless than a woman who can't cook and can't drive." (We shall ignore the fact that this was a man who ate Pepperidge Farm oatmeal raisin cookies for breakfast, along with half a grapefruit or cantaloupe, which his cleaning woman would halve for him.)

At the time, my response was, Why when you live in New York City does a woman need to cook or drive?!

Oh how times have changed. Dad, you were right.

But it isn't just girls who should know how to cook and drive -- and know how to keep a checkbook, and do laundry, and shop on a budget -- before they go off to college. It's boys, too.

Maybe it's because I was the only child of a single working mom, but by the time I was 13 I was doing my own laundry, making my bed and cleaning my room (daily), and cooking. And I could sew a button on and darn holes in clothes. A few years later, I was buying my own clothes on a budget.

Yet I am constantly surprised by how few teenagers today, or maybe it's just suburban teens of well-off parents, know how to take care of themselves. Maybe this isn't a new problem, and I am just more aware of it now that I am a mother of a teen. But I worry about today's teens.

I also wonder what the cause is. Is it that parents try to teach their kids these skills but the kids refuse to learn? Or is it because the parents never taught them? And if it's the latter, why not?

I would love to hear from parents, dads as well as moms, whether or not your teen (or tween or twentysomething) knows how to cook and/or do laundry and/or helps out around the house -- either via a comment or by taking the anonymous poll below.

I'd also be interested in hearing what you all knew how to do by the time you went off to college.

Does your teen...

For the record, I taught our daughter how to do laundry when she turned 13, before she went off to a sleep-away program -- and she is now responsible for doing her own laundry and putting it away. She also cooks and buys her owns clothes. We are still working on getting her to clean up.

Life with Teenage Girl

After last year's boy fiasco, we (okay I) banned our daughter from going out with a boy until she is at least 16. (If I could, I'd make her wait until college. But good luck with that.) That, however, has not stopped her (and her many friends) from talking about boys.

Rather than describe what these conversations sound like (after all, many if not most of them are carried out via text, IM, and email), though, I thought I would provide this handy visual:



For those of you who think scenes like the "Telephone Hour" from Bye Bye Birdie only happen in movies, or the 1960s, think again, my friends. (Also, you clearly do not have a teenage daughter -- or a woodpecker*.)

After yakking at length with one friend (who called her to discuss their upcoming sleepover, and "other things"), our little reporter turned around and called another girlfriend (whom she had just seen at school a few hours before). I will not relate the subject of these conversations (I tried very hard to ignore what was being said even though you could hear her down the hall and two floors away). But I guarantee that boys were somehow involved.

I can only imagine the frequency and duration of calls when junior and her friends actually start dating in a few years. Shudder.

I wish scientists would hurry and come up with that Teenager Vaccine.

*Though I haven't seen him in a while, we have a woodpecker that looks just like the one in the video clip, who pecks on our telephone pole, when he's not pecking on the copper siding on our chimney or on one of our trees.

You can learn a lot from driving teens

At the risk of divulging a big secret (and drying up a key source of juicy information), it often seems to me that my daughter and her friends think there is some kind of invisible, soundproof barrier between the front seat and back seat that prevents all conversation from being heard in the front seat, and, as a result, often talk about things they probably wouldn't talk about at, say, the dinner table (which is even more amusing, to me, because I drive a Mini Cooper, not a minivan).

Whatever the reason for their (often uncensored) chit chat, I am grateful for the opportunity it has given me, over the years, to learn about aspects of my daughter and her friends' lives that they might not normally share with a parent (even one as hip as I am*) -- even more so now that they are teenagers.

So what exactly can you learn from driving teenage girls?

Without divulging any personal information (concerning my daughter or her friends), following are some samples gleaned not only from my back seat but from the top secret back seats of other Russian chauffeurs (aka soccer and basketball moms who have sworn me to secrecy):

• What music they like (names of groups, lyrics and which ones have the hottest lead singer);

• How they are doing in school -- and which teachers they like/don't like;

• The latest teenage fashion trends and where they like to shop;

• Who has a potty mouth or is always getting into trouble; and, perhaps the most invaluable...

• What boys they like, who is dating whom, and what they say to each other (girls will often read aloud texts they receive/send to boys while chatting with their girlfriend(s) in the backseat)
  

(Note: I dread the day when I hear these girls discussing who is sleeping with -- or performing sexual acts on -- whom, which is hopefully many years down the line, but you never know.)

So what have you learned from schlepping your kids and their friends? Let me know via a comment.

*That would be sarcasm, just one of the many services I offer.

They grow up so fast

In a few hours my "baby" will be a teenager, and I'm feeling a little verklempt all of a sudden.

How did she get to be this big, this old, this... this... this person?

As the spouse said to me this morning, he still remembers massaging my tailbone as I labored for 18 hours (most of them without drugs -- I know: WTF was I thinking?!) trying to get this stubborn little being the f--k out of me as we listened to the Chicago Bulls battle the Indiana Pacers in the NBA Eastern Conference Finals. (Was a HUGE Chicago Bulls fan back in the 1990s, when we lived in Chicagoland. And I insisted on watching the game, but the doctor made us shut it off so I would focus more on the bigger picture, pushing. On the positive side, I was spared watching the Bulls lose that game -- and I scored a baby out of the deal.)

Hopefully, over the last dozen plus years the spouse and I have given our daughter a solid foundation to build upon. But I worry about today's teenage girls. There is so much pressure on them -- academically, socially, emotionally. And we can't --and shouldn't -- protect our daughter forever. But still.... (The only thing tougher than being a pre-teen or teenage girl? Being the mother of a pre-teen or teenage girl.)

Which leads me to Britney Spears. (Bear with me here.)

Early this morning I saw a clip of the opening number from last night's 2011 Billboard Music Awards, featuring Rihanna and Britney singing Rihanna's hit song "S&M," and I thought, I wonder what their mothers think? And, How did Britney go from the cute, perky girl next door (if you happened to live in Kentwood, Louisiana) on The Mickey Mouse Club...



to Playboy bunny dominatrix simulating sex on stage in front of millions of people? (Fast forward to 2:45 in the clip if you are interested.)



Yeah, yeah, I know: fame... a broken home... bad decisions... bad managers... surrounding yourself with the wrong people... alcohol... drugs... The spouse and I have nothing to worry about. Stop overreacting, J.! But I do worry. While not every fresh-faced, seemingly innocent kid winds up in rehab or on a reality TV show or pole dancing for extra cash, you never know.

Oh geez. I'm tearing up again. And I gotta get to work. Just do me a favor: tonight, before she goes to bed, give your daughter an extra big hug and tell her you love her.

How to keep the boys away (from your teenage daughter)

People always joked that the spouse would need a shotgun to keep the boys away from our daughter when she got older. Well, now she is about to become a teenager (and has discovered boys) -- and next thing I know the spouse sends me this picture (of him firing a shotgun), taken while he attended a "retreat" with fellow members of the Loyal Order of Water Buffaloes Lodge No. 26 last weekend.
















And no, those were not blanks he was shooting.

Despite much trepidation about shooting a gun, the spouse admitted he enjoyed the experience -- and would do it again. (No mention of what -- or whom -- the target would be next time.)

All I can say is prospective suitors, watch out.