And So It Begins: Welcome Home

The Teenager came home yesterday.

I waited for two hours, tracking her plane as it landed, sat on the tarmac for a bit, and then pulled into the gate. She cleared customs quickly and only requested a ginger ale be waiting when she came out for a turbulence-induced queasy belly.

I didn't recognize her immediately as she strode through the crowd at International Arrivals. Her hair was in a messy bun, and she was all in black; tall, confident. Then I saw her, a moment before she saw me. Her face lit up when our eyes met, and I had the pleasure of my teenaged daughter running to greet me in public.

I imagine this is just the beginning of the times I will be picking her up at airports.

I thought I would miss her more in the longing, lonely sense of missing someone, but mostly I just felt elated that she was out in the world and proud that I was able to send her there. There were definitely moments this week when I missed her chatter, and the hugs I got when I picked her up and before she went to bed were sorely missed, but mostly I was glad to have sent her off.

Parenting seems to always be a balance between two things. When they are little, you are balancing keeping them safe (i.e., poking their eye out on the corner of the coffee table) with letting them learn new things (like how to walk). In adolescence, right now it seems to be letting go and enfolding.

I have to let her leave me so that I can feel the pleasure of her return.

I have to let her make mistakes but then be there to figure out where to go from there.

She has to know that as much as I want her to come home I  want her to experience the world in equal measure.

These truths seem self-evident, but try it once. I am so proud of the woman she is becoming, but I still remember the fat wrists and the chubby cheeks. The tiny voice. The sweet smile and delicious kisses. I want her to take her time, to savor each part of life as it comes. Even grief, in its own way, is something that must be felt and experienced. I want her to slow down as life comes rushing towards her and carries her away from me like a leaf dancing on the surface of a stream.

So instead of moaning the loss of The Teenager to the world, this morning I am vowing that I will be her home, the one person she knows will always meet her at the gate, take her in, make sure her sheets are clean and that there is a juicy, mid-rare barbecue bacon burger with fries waiting.

I think that's our job as parents, really, to teach them to be independent and make good choices, then to send them out in the world to see how we did. I am just glad she is home and that I have her until the next time. Which may be sooner rather than later, as my evil plan seems to have worked and the travel bug has bitten.

Who are you home to?

 

A Jumble Of Thoughts

You know those days when you have so much going on that you can't seem to get it together? Thoughts and actions swirl together like a tornado and you end up flipped around six ways to Sunday. On days like these, it's all I can do not to back my car into a stationary object or lock myself out of the house.

This entire week has been like that.

From dealing with the rehab and having to make snap design decisions to organizing writing tasks so that not only am I making money but I am also making art to negotiating how much parental involvement in teen technology is too much, here's what's been happening that has prevented me from actually writing at all this week:

Mercury in Retrograde

Blame it on the planets, for sure, but technology and communication has been giving the Kolbeck household fits. My computer continues to occasionally shut off whenever it feels like it, and it has been running slower than molasses in January. Additionally, The Child dropped her phone in a PUBLIC TOILET on our no-technology outing last Sunday #irony), so she has been coming to terms with the fact that she must pay the $150 deductible AGAIN for a new one.

This is all challenging enough without adding the conversation of how much parental monitoring of technology is too much. The Child believes that it is an invasion of her privacy. I have pointed out that while I reserve the right to pick up her phone and leaf through her inbox, Instagram, whatever, I rarely do. I also pointed out that I am home alone all day and could easily rifle through her personal belongings, but I absolutely don't. I believe she is entitled to private thoughts and time away from her mother in that way, but for the next three years and four months, I am the boss of her and am responsible for her well-being. That includes attempting to head off dangerous mistakes if I see them happening (e.g., assholes online).

It should be noted that The Child has done nothing to raise any suspicion, but I don't want to be one of Those Parents, you know, the ones who insist that their precious angel couldn't possibly do anything untoward. Teenagers are dumb; their decision-making muscles are flabby. In many ways, it's not their fault. They require guidance and limits and boundaries; we are trying to figure out what is reasonable and fair. I have to balance wanting to keep The Child safe with allowing her to unfold her wings a bit.

If you have kids, I would love to know how you deal with this issue. Please comment below. Suggestions are always appreciated!!

House Rehab

So we aren't doing it ourselves, but it turns out that there are lots of decisions to be made when rehabbing a house, some of which can be very expensive, and some of which stack onto each other in a Jenga-like tower where if you pull out the wrong faucet shape or floor covering the whole house looks awful and doesn't work.

If you are not an interior designer, one room is a struggle, much less the whole house. And if you have trouble making a decision (I am a bit of a waffler) it can take ages to decide between polished chrome and oil-rubbed brass hardware for the tub because that influences the ENTIRE BATHROOM. And that decision, turns out, is SUPER EXPENSIVE.

$500+ on a tub faucet and drain assembly and one shower head/shower turner on-er thing. That's a lot of cheddar.

Add to the fact that you may or may not have decided to fabricate your bathroom vanity yourself out of reclaimed 114-year-old wood from the house, and you may or may not have also committed to building an Edison chandelier for the dining room, and the week can get a little stressful.

Pro tip: don't ask your 14-year-old for input on every decision. Because then they will expect to be consulted and if their taste is nothing like yours you are stuck. Let them decorate their own room and what will be their bathroom, knowing that when they move out you can always paint over it.

Writing for Dummies

Being a freelance writer is incredible. My time is my own, and I can do whatever I want whenever I want, like work whenever and wherever I want to.

It's also a bit problematic because I can do whatever I want whenever I want, and sometimes I want to do anything but write. So there's that. If you are a bit of a procrastinator, this can be an issue if, say, you are having computer issues due to planetary alignment or you come down with an illness that lays you out.

Full disclosure: I have never missed a deadline, and everyone I write for has wonderful things to say about me. So there's that.

However.

I have two books in the works that I am not really allowed to talk about until they are farther along. I set myself this rule hoping that it would push me to write more on them. Thus far, limited success.

I feel like I am still balancing my work with relocation, parenting, child rearing, and yes, almost two years in, pain-in-the-ass grief and loneliness (mama needs a man friend, but that's another post).

Two of my goals this year are to procrastinate less and to be nicer to myself in my head (I can be an asshole in there sometimes). They are definitely related. When I sit down to write my books, the voice pipes in: "Why are you writing this? Aren't there eleventy million other books just like it? Who's going to read your stupid book? And you can't even get past the first chapter! You call yourself a cook? Whose recipe is that? You can't do it!"

It's the anti-cheerleader. And she's kind of a bitch.

So I would like to shut her up a little this year, and the only way I know to do that is to just write.

Do you have that cheerleader? And how do you make her shut it?

Anyway. That's a thousand words about why I haven't written here (but I've missed you!). Did your week shape up nicely, or were your thoughts a jumble like mine?

(Image: mine. It's a trash can that the City of Baltimore handed out to residents when the city slogan was "Believe." This particular trashcan is lying on the floor of the basement in the rehab.)

8 Ways To Not Kill Your Teenager When S/He Is Awful

My generally awesome kid has been HORRIFIC for the past several days in a row when I pick her up from school. And then she gets all, "Stop yelling at me!" and I'm like, "Oh, this isn't yelling...THIS IS YELLING," and so on. Super mature.

So back away from the switch and take some advice. It's what I say to myself in both my clearest and drunkest moments. Ready for some tough love?

1. Take a breath. Take another one. If you have not yet hyperventilated and it is five o'clock somewhere, take a drink. I prefer Angel's Envy, Woodford Reserve, and the Killer Bee at Golden West. Only have one, but make it a stiff one. Then drink a big glass of water and go to bed. You're old and you need your rest if you are complaining about kids these days.

2. Remember that one or both of your parents (depending on who is still alive) is TOTALLY gloating right now. So suck it up and try to see it from your teenager's side. You were once that jackass with the eye rolling and the huffy noise making. If you get totally pissed then you are Just. Like. Your. Parents. Think about your kid: what is his/her major damage? Does it really have anything to do with you? If not, let it go.

(you're welcome)

3. If you are a single parent, get a fucking life. I say this as a single, broke-ass parent in a new city with some friends who like me but all have their own lives to deal with and don't want me moping on their couch all the time. If your teenager is pissy-making, go do something. They are old enough to watch themselves. Quit bitching about how awful they are and go out and find something for yourself. If you have littles, too, make the awful teenager babysit. They need to learn some fucking responsibility anyway.

4. Go for a walk. Especially if you are a single parent. A lot of hot people have dogs and can be found after work perambulating, so there's that, but since you are a single parent, chances are your life has revolved around your sweet dumpling thus far and you've put on a few. Get over it. Go out in nature. It's good for you. Gives you some perspective. Plus hot single parents hike so you can multi-task on the trail. So do serial killers and muggers, so take your dog or don't go out after dark.

5. Sit them down when things cool off a bit and tell them why you're bothered by their very existence on the planet. Maybe not that. But at least why you are aggravated. And use short sentences because kids these days have the attention span of a fruit fly with progeria. Use "I" statements, like, "I am very hurt when you take every single thing I do for you for granted and treat me like a servant." Or something better. Make it personal.

6. Realize that your child is very, very dumb right now. LITERALLY. Like, they can't EVEN. See what I did there? Your average teenager can translate that ridiculous sequence of words into something meaningful but can't do the same with a simple sentence like, "Where the hell is your phone?" or "Don't leave your shoes in the middle of the floor." It is physiologically impossible for your teenager to make good decisions, like respecting their elders and not making us say the same thing eleventy million times.

7. Say yes. Huh? Did I just say that? YES. Believe it or not, it is hard as hell to be a teenager in 2014. Teenagers now may not have a draft or technically be dealing with a  world war, but they have school shootings, utterly broken financial and political systems, and no hope for a job should they decide to go to college after their sub-par public education. They will probably not be able to own a home, and they are experiencing a caste system of lower and upper class as the middle gets slowly squeezed ever downward. And yet they are expected to cheerfully and hopefully go about the business of life and never fight back? How's that working out? Take one day, and god help you if you tell your kid which one it is, and say yes to everything they ask.

Then freaking pray they don't ask for something big, but if they do, GO ALL IN. You said you would.

8. On the opposite side of things, give those kids some damn chores. Stop cleaning their room, doing their laundry, and generally coddling those brats. My kid has friends who, at 14, still have no responsibility in their house - no dishes, dog walking, or kitty litter scooping. Not only are making yourself bitter by doing everything for them and then misguidedly expecting the ungrateful wretch to notice (see #6) and then appreciate it (see #5), you are also creating monsters for their future significant other and society in general. On top of that, you are raising their expectations of what real life is like to unreasonable levels. And that hurts everyone.

So there you have it. Feel better? If not, try reading this list out loud to your awful teenager and see what they think. I did, and the expression on my kid's face fixed me right up. In the end, though, she and I both recognize that parenting and teenagering is a delicate dance of back-the-fuck-off and please-don't-leave-me-ever, on both sides. The sooner you accept that reality, the better.

Now go fix yourself a drink while you work the other steps.

(Image)