How to raise a happy teen

I occasionally get asked by mothers of young children what the secret is to raising great teenagers.

My initial response is that I have absolutely no clue.  My kids are who they are IN SPITE of having me as a mother.

[The young moms don't find that answer too helpful.]

My kids are pretty amazing, but I am also fairly confident that I had a teensy bit to do with it.  (A very teensy bit, mind you).

And just yesterday, on Instagram, I was asked once again what the secret was.  I thought about it all day long, and could not get it out of my head.

The first thing that I will tell you is to disbelieve the myth that teenagers are sullen, angry creatures who slam doors and hate their parents.  Some do that, but the overwhelming majority do not.

Every one of my kids' friends are just as happy and fun as they are, so I know that it's not just us.

Teenagers are incredible.  They are funny, smart, eager to please, and up for just about anything as long as food is involved.  They have the most generous hearts and want desperately to be loved and validated.  They are quirky, and messy, and have the best sense of humor.

So, here is my list of rules.  These are the secrets we have found to be successful:

Number one:  I would say my number one rule is to love them fiercely.  Love everything about them, even the annoying stuff.  Love them for their actions AND their intentions.  Let them know in word and deed how much you adore them.  Daily.  Love their wrinkled shirts and Axe-body-spray-covered selves.  Love their bad handwriting and pimpled cheeks.  Love their scattered brains and long limbs.  All these seemingly insignificant details are an amazing, magic process at work.  It's like being witness to the miracle of a diamond mid-formation.  All this imperfection is going to one day yield a responsible, serious adult.  A loving husband and father.  Or a wonderful wife and mother.  It's a privilege to be witness to such glorious growth.

Feel that way.  See your teenagers as a privilege.  Don't see them as a burden.  They're more perceptive than you can imagine.  How you feel about them will be no secret.  So just love 'em.

Number two:  Listen and pay attention.  When they walk in the door after school, you have a precious few minutes that they will divulge the secrets of their day with you.  Be excited to see them.  Put down that cell phone.  Don't waste this time making dinner or taking a phone call.  Look them in the eye and hear what they are saying.  Make their victories your victories.  Be empathetic.  It is really hard to navigate high school and middle school.  Don't offer advice at this time unless they ask for it.  Don't lecture.  Just listen.  It makes them feel important and valued. We all need to feel that way.

Number three:  Say yes more than you say no.  The world is forever going to tell them no.  For the rest of their lives, they will be swimming in a stormy sea with wave-after-wave of you're not good enough and you can't do this crashing down on their heads.  If nothing else, I want to be the opposite voice in their lives for as long as I can.  I want to instill in them the belief that they are not limited, and that they can do anything if they're willing to work hard enough for it.  I want to be the YES, YOU CAN in their life.  I want them to leave my house every day feeling invincible.

Number four:  Say no often.  You need to say no to experiences and situations that will set your child up for harm or unhappiness.  Don't let them go to the parties where they will be forced to make a choice at age 16 in front of their peers about alcohol.  Don't let them stay out until three in the morning with a member of the opposite sex.  Be the parent.  Set up rules for their safety, both physical and moral.  You would think this rule goes without saying, but we have known a shockingly large number of parents who don't.  

Number five:  Feed them.  A lot.  And not only them, but their friends, too.  These bodies are growing and developing at an astonishing rate, and need fuel to do so - most of which they prefer to be loaded with processed sugar and hydrogenated-something-or-others.  When their friends know your pantry is stocked to the gills with treats, they will beg your kid to hang out at your place.  This allows you to, not only meet and know their friends, but to keep an eye on your teen, as well.  Make your house the fun house.  Buy that ping-pong table.  Get the newest gaming system.  Put in a pool.  Or a basketball hoop.  Your return on investment will be greater than any other options out there.

Number Six:  Don't sweat the small stuff.  When living with teenagers, it can be so easy to see the backpack dropped in the middle of the living room as laziness.  Or the bedroom scattered with dirty clothes as irresponsible.  Instead, and before you open your mouth to yell at them, put yourself in their shoes.  Find out about their day first.  Maybe they are feeling beaten down, and they just need to unwind for a minute and tell you about it.  Maybe they're tired from all that growing, learning, working, and hormone-ing.  If you waste your chance and yell at them about the backpack or shoes or [insert every other possession they own], they will not open up to you.  Breathe.  Ignore it for a bit and put your arms around that big, sweaty kid and give him a hug.  Talk to him about his world.  Find out what he did, wants to do, and dreams of doing.  THEN, and only then, ask him to pick it up and put it away.

That being said, do I completely ignore the state of my boys' bedrooms all the time?  No, I do not.  But I pick my battles, and I pick the appropriate time to fight them.  Once every seven to ten days or so, I tell them their bedrooms need to be picked up.  Which they do happily, because it's not the running loop of a nagging mom.  They know when I ask, it needs to be done. 

I will not have a bad relationship with my kid over a pile of clothes on the floor.  It's. Not. Worth. It.   I love my kid more than I love a clean house.  I am confident that I am raising humans capable of picking up after themselves, and I know as they mature and grow up, these things will sort themselves out.  I have taught them how to do it.  They will not be in college and literally unaware of how to bend down and pick up their socks.  

Number Seven:  Last, but not least, is to stand back and watch the magic happen.  If you let them, these glorious creatures will open their hearts and love you more fiercely than you could possibly imagine.  They are brilliant, capable, strong spirits who bring with them a flurry of happiness.  They are hilarious and clever.  They are thoughtful and sensitive.  They want us to adore them.  They need us to adore them.  They love deeply and are keenly in touch with the feelings of others.

They are just about the greatest gift that god gave to parents.

And I'm beyond lucky to call this crazy group mine.

We named the dog Indiana...

Internet, I would like to introduce you to the newest member of our family.

Meet Indie.*

She is an 11-week-old chocolate lab.  And she is ours.

I never thought I would have a dog with all three of my children living at home.  Remember this?  Having one and then having to give it back three days later was pretty traumatic on all of us.  I had resigned myself to the fact that I would get a dog as soon as McKay was out of the house on his mission.

Lord knows I'll need something to console myself.  I'm a wreck just thinking about him leaving in two short years.

Hannah and I would frequently spend hours looking at what I've dubbed "puppy porn."  Image after image, we would drool over squishy, wrinkled, silky pups -- dreaming of one day having one of our own.  I had made my peace.

Then, a month or so after Christmas, McKay came to me.  He was discouraged and sad and said, "Mom, I would rather be miserable for two years than miss out on this."

My heart broke for him.  Knowing how alienated it would make him feel, how apart from the experience we were all sharing.  But yet how could I bring a dog into the home again?

Josh and I talked about it for days.  McKay has really seemingly grown out of the worst of the allergy.  He has spent the night at friends' homes who have dogs, and come home fine.  He has hung out with friends and their dogs and had no reaction.  But if we did this thing and he reacted, how would we all survive losing another pet?

Knowing that our home here is wood floor throughout the main level, and vowing to keep the carpeted upstairs dog-free, we felt better about it.  Plus, living in a climate that is mild enough to house the dog outside if need be, we decided to take the plunge.

It is simultaneously the most amazing and annoying thing we've ever had in our lives.  She is adorable, crazy, wild, sweet, and hilarious.  Every single one of us is in love.

And the best part?  McKay has done FINE.  If he plays with her and then touches his eyes, he will react and get red.  But if he washes his hands after playing, there is no reaction.  He has done beautifully.  We are so relieved and thrilled.

In spite of her inability to not chew on every surface (including us), she has quickly become an important part of the family.  

We can hardly remember a life without her in it.

*The name was a bit of a compromise.  Let's just say that finding a name that all five of us agreed on was a tear-inducing, unhappy process (mostly for Hannah).  We wanted a name with meaning to our family, but yet one we could all be happy with.  The boys refused anything remotely girly or "food" related (i.e., Coco, Muffin, etc.).  Sadly, almost all Hannah's picks were food related or girly.

The Husband's top pick was Brown Dog.

Which, coincidentally, was my least favorite name in the history of names of all mankind forever and ever.  And ever.  Amen.

We opted (finally!) for Indie, which is short for Indiana Jones.  One of our favorite family activities is to watch a movie together on the weekends.  We all love the Indiana Jones movies, and have quoted the line for years from the third one where Sean Connery, in his best Connery-intonation, says, "We named the dawg Indiana."  

So.  We named the dog Indiana.

And we will never be the same again.

Milestone

Friday night, a major milestone happened in the life of my oldest child.

He attended his first prom.

Which, coincidentally, also happened to be his first date ever.  To say he was nervous would be an accurate truth (though he would definitely never admit that in a court of law.  And would quite possibly deny it to the death).  Hannah and I did our best to educate him on true gentlemanly behavior.  

She has gleaned most of her knowledge from Jane Austen movies.

Mine has come from dating my fair share of NON-gentlemen back in the day.  So between our vastly different world of the ideal perfection and what not to do, he was more than ready.

And probably just a little overwhelmed with information.

His choice of prom date was a friend - a darling girl named Olivia.  And they went in a large, fun group of 18.   

How awesomely amazing do these gorgeous young women look in their dresses?  So beautiful.  So classy.  So modest(!).  I am so impressed.  

(And as the mother of a hot-blooded, normal, teenage boy, I am forever grateful.)

The dapper gents (McKay is the third over from the right):

Through a series of about 900 group texts, the boys decided to reveal their secret identities -- as super heroes will occasionally do for a lady friend.

My boy's secret identity just happens to be Spiderman.

Truly, it was an amazing night.  He had a fabulous time, learned a little bit about gentlemanly behavior, and got to show a girl a good time.  I am so proud of him, and thrilled at the amazing group of friends he has found here in Texas.

{And, yes, I am not dead.  I am going to try with all my might to bring this blog back off of life support.  I do miss writing, sharing, and documenting the extraordinary ordinary life I lead.  Stay tuned.  More to come...)

Sharp Dressed Man

Last week, I took McKay to buy his first suit.

The Husband was out of town, so naturally the man-task fell to me.  Driving over there, laughing and joking with my biggest boy, I felt content.  He picked the music, and even managed to not critique my driving.  He reminded me for the millionth time why I love and adore him so much.

We arrived at Macy's and started flipping through the racks of suits.  I tried to be helpful and point out colors and textures of fabric that looked cool.  He rolled his eyes and laughed at his mama.

Before long, we were saved by a helpful sales clerk.  He took one look at my boy, told us his size without taking a single measurement, and began to pull suits from the racks.

Grateful for the help, I sat with my phone outside of the dressing room and casually perused the Instagram.

When my big boy walked out of the dressing room, I was wholly unprepared for the emotion that would overtake me.  It was like a jolt to my heart.  Seeing him in that suit, his broad shoulders held high, his tall frame tailored and strong – I nearly lost it. 

It was like a vision came to my mind.  A vision, as unexpected as it was unwelcome.  I saw him as the missionary he would be – and in just a few short years.  I saw him, not as my child in holy Nike socks and a dirty t-shirt, but as the man he is becoming.  I saw him all grown up.

And, I won’t lie, I was not at all prepared to face that vision. 

I immediately teared up and felt like I couldn’t breathe.  The air around me was thick and heavy, and I feared the weight of it was going to crush me.  Looking at this man/boy before me – the flesh of my flesh – and knowing that before long he will be out on his own was more than this mama heart could bear.

I felt so small, watching him.  So helpless.  

Right then, ZZ Top’s song, Every Girl’s Crazy About A Sharp-Dressed Man came on overhead.  It was so silly and so appropriate that we both burst out laughing.  It cut through the emotion and brought laughter higher than my tears.  I took a shallow breath.  Then another one.  I smiled at him.  The heaviness passed, but left in its wake a weight on my heart.  One that I know will probably hang there forever, getting heavier with each passing year.

Tender mercies come in all forms.  Mine came in a song, played ever so timely, as I watched my child casually slipping through my fingers.  In a dressing room at Macy's.

Forty: My new favorite

When I last left you, on November 8th, I had gone to lunch and a movie with some new friends here in Texas.

What I did not know was that hours later, I would be in for the surprise of my life.

As I drove home from the movie, I thought about all the movies and lunches I used to have back in the Lou.  I felt the all-too familiar melancholy ache for my St. Louis girls.  So I picked up the phone and tried calling them.  I got voicemail each and every time, which was a bit unusual.  But I thought nothing of it and went home.

I wrote the blog post and looked forward to a night out with the Husband.

A few hours later, the kids started trickling in from school.

As is my usual routine, I started gently nudging Chase out the door to go on his run.   Dude likes to procrastinate, so it's always a lengthy process to get him out there.

In the meantime, the Husband came home and we started chatting.  Banter, happy talk, and excitement over the upcoming weekend.  

I heard a noise behind me, and figured it was that tall boy of mine who STILL had not left on his run yet.  Turning to tell him to GET HIS BUTT OUT THE DOOR, I saw my four best girls.

STANDING. IN. MY. HOUSE.

For a half a second, I wondered what was wrong.  Why were they here?  What had happened?  HOW?

Then I immediately burst into tears and ran screaming into their arms.  It was caught on video, but I assure you, no one wants to see that hysterical chubby mess.

My dear, darling Husband had got them all here to help me turn 40 in style.

It was no small feat.  As per his usual life, there were missed flights, late meetings, and scrambled travel plans.  But he got them all here and made sure HE was home to see the look on my face.

The next best part of the surprise?  He and the boys were leaving to fly to the BYU game in Wisconsin.  We would have the entire house to ourselves for an entire weekend.

As we walked out to the car to grab the luggage, there was yet ONE more surprise.

Maren had brought her daughter, Jilian, to hang with Hannah.

Seriously.  So many surprises, I would have not been shocked to see Hugh Jackman walk in the door next.  It was absolute happiness all around.

First order of business was grabbing some Mexican food at Chuy's.  Because one should never leave Texas without some of their divine creamy jalepeno dip.

The weekend was absolutely perfect (even without Hugh Jackman coming).  The Husband sent gorgeous flowers that arrived Saturday morning - enough for every room in the house.  

We laughed, we ate, we shopped, we stayed up late.  I could not have imaged a better way to celebrate my big birthday.

These women have been a part of my life for the past six years, and I was beyond thrilled and touched to have them here.  The Husband knocked it out of the park on this one and I can never tell him just how much it meant.  I love these girls like sisters.

It was JUST what I needed, right when I needed it most.

I'd say that 40 is feeling pretty darn good.

To serve and protect

Today, I went to the mall with a couple friends. 

I know!  I have friends!  Hooray!

I'm actually feeling quite thrilled about that fact.  I dragged two of them with me to see a movie (side note:  If you have not seen this movie yet, get yourself to a theater STAT.  The BEST movie I have seen in ages.  Thank you Annie, my long-time BFF and movie-buddy for the recommendation.  Sobbed my way through it.  So phenomenal). 

ANYway, I dragged these new friends of mine to see a movie and have some lunch. 

When I got out to my car, there was a note on my windshield from our local police.  It looked like this:  

Apparently, I had failed a spontaneous inspection of my vehicle.  The reason for the failure was that my Property was in Plain View (and so important they felt the need to capitalize the aforementioned Property in Plain View). 

I looked around the car and wondered what Property was in Plain View. 

Internet, I give you my very valuable, very-worth stealing, lucky-I-still-have-it Property. 

(Try not to rush here all at once to break into my home and steal it.) 

First up is the bottle I fill with pool water once a month and drive to the pool store for water testing.  While this item is extremely valuable in ascertaining the correct acidity of our pool, I doubt anyone would want it badly enough to steal. 

But I could be wrong.   It definitely takes all kinds to make the world go 'round. 

Next up is this ratty, fraying, mate-less glove.  Worn by me two nights ago at the football game where it was FREEZING cold.  We lost, in case you wondered.  Which made it all the more worthwhile to sit in the stands and freeze my ever-expanding arse off.

While a matched set of a ratty, fraying glove might be worth something at auction, I doubt thieves would risk incarceration for a single. 

Also of little worth is this pile of old receipts, one of which was the dry cleaning receipt I had my daughter dig through the trash to find.

But then forgot to use at the dry cleaners when I picked up the clothes.   Oops.

[Has anyone seen my Mother-of-the-Year-Award?  I've been watching the mail and it hasn't come yet.  Hmmm.... odd.] 

Lastly, and probably the most valuable item I own, is this antique treasure.  It has been in our family for generations and is an heirloom that I hope to pass onto my own children someday.  I have often wanted to take it to the folks at the Antiques Roadshow and get an appraisal, but I've honestly worried about damaging it in the process. 

Internet, meet my most valued possession. 

It really isn't a surprise that I failed the inspection.  Any one of these items are worth the risk of staph that you'd likely get by smashing the window in to steal them. 

Thank you, ever-diligent police, for keeping me on my toes. 

Also?  I'm pretty sure we live in a great area if this is the way our officers' time is spent.  For that, I am legitimately thankful.