I think adults look at teenagers as if they are people who don't listen, people in their own little worlds, people who don't care what adults have to say. I agree that it appears this way, but I don't think that this is really the case. Sure, they often don't seem to listen, but I think it's more because they don't fully understand what we're talking about. When we tell them that their action A will cause a reaction B they don't really get that. Research shows that teens' frontal lobe development is incomplete and that means they have problems in executive functions. Executive functions mean they don't always get that A+B=C. They get that A+B, they just don't get that it =C. And yeah, they float around in their own little worlds but that's because they lack experience to know how many other worlds exist (i.e. one for every person they meet).
So when we as the parents of said teens repeat ourselves endlessly to seemingly stubborn and defiant offspring and when we get annoyed with them that they're once again floating around our house, eating our food, but staying in their own little worlds, our discussions may trigger more thinking in those teen brains than we realize.
Case and point: Early this week, Manboy was once again having difficulty balancing his desire to spend time with Sweetiepie with his need to study and keep up on his homework. He was resisting the routine tasks of reading texts and taking notes on chapters and was behind several chapters. Resisting routine is not a surprise. This is an inborn trait with this young man - he hated routine tasks when he was three and nothing has changed in that department.
Although not surprising, it isn't acceptable because he needs that study time to do well in his courses. So, enter Mom and Dad, speaking with Manboy about time management and applying himself to his studies daily. We discussed once again the value of these virtues in hopes that we could help him get back on track. He listened and agreed, but something his dad said apparently stayed with him. Steve repeated that Lliam couldn't expect to see Katey every day. He stated that that was not a reasonable expectation.
Lliam agreed to apply himself to the routine but necessary tasks, but he evidently went away really thinking about what we had said. The next morning, Lliam was about ready to head out the door when he asked me, "Mom, how much time is reasonable to spend with Katey?" His question came out of the blue at the early hour of 6:30 AM. Oh my, I wasn't expecting such a loaded question that early in the morning. But that's the beauty of teens. Their questions come up when they come up, and their questions don't always have easy answers.
I took a moment to respond. I told him that that was actually the wrong question. The real question was, 'how much time is reasonably needed to study?' I explained that the issue was not spending time with Sweetiepie. The issue was taking time to study. I reminded him that he doesn't really study when he's with her because they mostly play games on the computer and talk. He agreed. I said, "You need to put your studies first. Figure out what needs to be done, how much time it's likely to take, do it, and then whatever time is left it's fine to spend with Katey."
He said that he was worried that he was spending too much time with her. I told him that he really doesn't spend too much time with her. It's natural to want to spend time with the people you're closest to. I told him his dad and I like to spend a lot of time together, too, especially back when we were dating. I reiterated that that was not the issue. The issue was he needed to spend more time studying, and that meant less time with Katey because he didn't study when he was with her.
He was satisfied with that and seemed more at peace. He now seemed to understand the A+B=C we were trying to teach him. He bounded out the door like a semi-coordinated and very large gazelle, and I was left with my thoughts on the matter. His question reminded me that his teen brain doesn't always make connections between information in the right way. He saw our discussion as criticism of his time with Katey rather than as criticism of his lack of time studying. We thought we emphasized studying, but somehow his mind reinterpreted that to mean we didn't want him to spend as much time with Katey.
The power of parenting also loomed over me as a solid weight of responsibility. This relationship with Katey is really important to him. It's important to her, too. What if I had answered flippantly? What if I had discouraged him from seeing her rather than refocusing his attention on the issue of studying? It's a sobering thought, to think that we have so much power to influence these young lives. As for Steve and I, God willing we will always influence him rightly.
Lliam and His 'New' Car
Friday, January 24, 2014
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Exuberance + Inexperience = Teenager
Yesterday our 17-year-old Lliam got an interesting lesson about actions and consequences and about not attending to the weather report. Steve and I got cold, wet, and felt like Eskimos.
Friday was rainy, icy, and flooding all at the same time. All day long, it rained. It rained and rained. The manboy, said 17-year-old Lliam, went to his sweetie pie's house for the afternoon. In his exuberance, Lliam must see Sweetie Pie (Katey) regularly, preferably daily. He realized it was raining, but in his inexperience he never thought about the fact that in the winter rain turns to ice on frozen streets. He never thought about the fact that the rain would begin to melt the snow into huge puddles along the side of the road.
These thoughts never crossed his mind. But he had a great afternoon and evening playing video games with Katey and her brother. His father and I got home as quickly as we could, realizing the seriousness of what the evening would bring. Around 7:30 we were both reminding Lliam that it was time to come home. In his defense, around 5 PM we asked him to stay where he was because it was already bad out and we wanted to be home before he tried to get home. But now it was 7:30 and we told him to be careful but get home right away.
The way from Katey's house to ours is only about a mile and a half. Unfortunately, Katey's street was a solid sheet of ice. Better still, it slopes downward toward the cul-de-sac and upward toward the main road. Instead of heading toward the main road, the inexperienced part of Lliam told him to go down the hill and head back up. Well, it wasn't ten minutes before I was getting frantic phone calls that he was stuck in a snow bank at the bottom of her street.
I was on the phone with Lliam, Steve was standing there venting about how this is exactly what he was trying to avoid, and I was asking Steve, "What do we do NOW?!" I really had no idea. Steve stomped around a bit, but finally said that we needed to go get him and try to get the car. He loaded the car with kitty litter, road salt, boards, an ice pick, and a shovel. I put on my boots and my parka. We climbed in the car.
The last thing I wanted was to be out in that weather. Ugh. The windshield wipers pushed away the steady rain, making it hard to see the ice on the road. Slowly and steadily, Steve made it to the main road which wasn't quite as bad. We headed slowly over to Katey's. The posted speed limit is 45 but thankfully no one was idiotic enough to be going any faster than 30. By the time we turned onto Katey's street, the rain had let up a little. We could see Lliam's car marooned at the bottom of the circle.
Steve headed down to the car and stopped in the middle of the circle. Fortunately, Lliam's car wasn't damaged. Then the real fun began. Steve knew he hadn't had any traction in the car, but it wasn't until he tried to step out of the car that he realized how bad it was. He couldn't stand up. He couldn't get any grip at all. He closed the door and said, "We gotta get out of here. If we can. I cannot get stuck down here." It was a few tense moments, but he was able to get back up the hill.
We parked at the top and called Lliam. He met us at the car. We decided to try to get down to the car on foot. We stomped through the snow to avoid the icy street.
I was following in Lliam's footsteps and Steve behind me. As we trudged through a foot and a half of snow, I thought to myself, "What am I doing? This is not me." I started talking out loud, "You know, I am not an Eskimo. I'm a city girl, and I like it that way. There's a reason I don't live in out in the boondocks, and this is it." Nobody paid any attention to me.
We got to the first driveway. Solid ice. Lliam scooted across in his boots. He said, "You can walk on it like this." Heck, no, I wasn't following. We stood there at a bit of a loss as to what to do next.
Next thing we know, another car has come down the cul-de-sac and is now stuck at the bottom, parallel with Lliam's car. "Uh-oh," I said, "I wonder if they hit our car." Lliam went down to investigate. No, they didn't. While he was there, he took the opportunity to help the girl in the car back up the circle to her house. He held her by the arm as she crossed the street, using the ice pick Steve had brought to help him navigate the street without falling.
He returned, proudly telling me how he had helped her and how he had advised her to walk in the snow when possible instead of in the street. Exuberance. That's what's fun about teenagers. He sees adventure where I see pain-in-the-butt.
Steve declared that the mission to rescue the car was an abort. We had rescued Lliam. We would get the car in the morning. We piled in the car and headed home. Lliam, the manboy on the verge of adulthood, sat quietly in the backseat of his dad's car. Now the exuberance in the manboy was far less obvious than the inexperience.
As we drove home with Steve and I in the front and Lliam safely in the back, I couldn't help but think that as much as Lliam may groan and roll his eyes over our worries, our rules, and our lectures, he still needs us. We're his foundation, his launching pad, and his rock in the stormy sea of adult life.
Friday was rainy, icy, and flooding all at the same time. All day long, it rained. It rained and rained. The manboy, said 17-year-old Lliam, went to his sweetie pie's house for the afternoon. In his exuberance, Lliam must see Sweetie Pie (Katey) regularly, preferably daily. He realized it was raining, but in his inexperience he never thought about the fact that in the winter rain turns to ice on frozen streets. He never thought about the fact that the rain would begin to melt the snow into huge puddles along the side of the road.
These thoughts never crossed his mind. But he had a great afternoon and evening playing video games with Katey and her brother. His father and I got home as quickly as we could, realizing the seriousness of what the evening would bring. Around 7:30 we were both reminding Lliam that it was time to come home. In his defense, around 5 PM we asked him to stay where he was because it was already bad out and we wanted to be home before he tried to get home. But now it was 7:30 and we told him to be careful but get home right away.
The way from Katey's house to ours is only about a mile and a half. Unfortunately, Katey's street was a solid sheet of ice. Better still, it slopes downward toward the cul-de-sac and upward toward the main road. Instead of heading toward the main road, the inexperienced part of Lliam told him to go down the hill and head back up. Well, it wasn't ten minutes before I was getting frantic phone calls that he was stuck in a snow bank at the bottom of her street.
I was on the phone with Lliam, Steve was standing there venting about how this is exactly what he was trying to avoid, and I was asking Steve, "What do we do NOW?!" I really had no idea. Steve stomped around a bit, but finally said that we needed to go get him and try to get the car. He loaded the car with kitty litter, road salt, boards, an ice pick, and a shovel. I put on my boots and my parka. We climbed in the car.
The last thing I wanted was to be out in that weather. Ugh. The windshield wipers pushed away the steady rain, making it hard to see the ice on the road. Slowly and steadily, Steve made it to the main road which wasn't quite as bad. We headed slowly over to Katey's. The posted speed limit is 45 but thankfully no one was idiotic enough to be going any faster than 30. By the time we turned onto Katey's street, the rain had let up a little. We could see Lliam's car marooned at the bottom of the circle.
Steve headed down to the car and stopped in the middle of the circle. Fortunately, Lliam's car wasn't damaged. Then the real fun began. Steve knew he hadn't had any traction in the car, but it wasn't until he tried to step out of the car that he realized how bad it was. He couldn't stand up. He couldn't get any grip at all. He closed the door and said, "We gotta get out of here. If we can. I cannot get stuck down here." It was a few tense moments, but he was able to get back up the hill.
We parked at the top and called Lliam. He met us at the car. We decided to try to get down to the car on foot. We stomped through the snow to avoid the icy street.
I was following in Lliam's footsteps and Steve behind me. As we trudged through a foot and a half of snow, I thought to myself, "What am I doing? This is not me." I started talking out loud, "You know, I am not an Eskimo. I'm a city girl, and I like it that way. There's a reason I don't live in out in the boondocks, and this is it." Nobody paid any attention to me.
We got to the first driveway. Solid ice. Lliam scooted across in his boots. He said, "You can walk on it like this." Heck, no, I wasn't following. We stood there at a bit of a loss as to what to do next.
Next thing we know, another car has come down the cul-de-sac and is now stuck at the bottom, parallel with Lliam's car. "Uh-oh," I said, "I wonder if they hit our car." Lliam went down to investigate. No, they didn't. While he was there, he took the opportunity to help the girl in the car back up the circle to her house. He held her by the arm as she crossed the street, using the ice pick Steve had brought to help him navigate the street without falling.
He returned, proudly telling me how he had helped her and how he had advised her to walk in the snow when possible instead of in the street. Exuberance. That's what's fun about teenagers. He sees adventure where I see pain-in-the-butt.
Steve declared that the mission to rescue the car was an abort. We had rescued Lliam. We would get the car in the morning. We piled in the car and headed home. Lliam, the manboy on the verge of adulthood, sat quietly in the backseat of his dad's car. Now the exuberance in the manboy was far less obvious than the inexperience.
As we drove home with Steve and I in the front and Lliam safely in the back, I couldn't help but think that as much as Lliam may groan and roll his eyes over our worries, our rules, and our lectures, he still needs us. We're his foundation, his launching pad, and his rock in the stormy sea of adult life.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
How Much Freedom on New Year's Eve?
Every day with teens presents new and interesting dilemmas. New Year's Eve here was extremely cold and snowy. We pretty much had 24 hours of snow. It was light snow, but it was snow. The roads around here are under-plowed and he drives a little Dodge Neon. On top of that, New Year's Eve is what my husband calls "The Night of the Driving Idiots." Lliam is precious to us, and his safety is extremely important. So the question was, how much freedom do we give him? What should his curfew be? How do we balance freedom and safety on a night like New Year's Eve? Fortunately, he was planning on hanging out at our house with his girlfriend so there was no dilemma about parties. Phew. The main issue was curfew. His questions: When do I have to take her home? How long can I stay at her house after I take her home?
Decision: Curfew of 1 AM. Drive girlfriend home at 1 AM and return right away. Drive on residential streets because lack of plowing is better than potential drunk drivers on the main roads.
Decision: Curfew of 1 AM. Drive girlfriend home at 1 AM and return right away. Drive on residential streets because lack of plowing is better than potential drunk drivers on the main roads.
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