When we walked out of the orthodontist’s rooms she couldn’t contain her smile. With the news that she’d have her braces off by May, she was beyond excited about running her tongue over a smooth braceless surface on her thirteenth birthday. “Yay! When I go back to Australia for the holidays I’ll have no braces, my ears will be pierced and I’ll be thirteen!”
My “yay” wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as hers. I’d almost forgotten the promise of ear piercing as a thirteenth birthday present, thirteen felt like so far away. How did we get here so quickly?
I watched her walking ahead of me. She was the epitome of twelve. Swinging pony tail, converse sneakers, jeans with a rip in each knee, and a stripy t-shirt that appeared to bounce with each step she took. Her arms had become a living amateur art exhibition in the form of peace signs and love hearts drawn in pen. Some of it was her own work, some of it her friends.
“Why do you guys all draw all over each other?” I could remember drawing on myself but I wanted to remember why. In my case I think it was boredom.
She shrugged “Just for fun.”
I tried to picture adults in the same way. G in the office with colleagues, his cuff links off and his sleeves rolled up while a colleague scribbled out a landscape. I imagined meeting with an editor, or having breakfast with friends, here take my hand, feel free to doodle.
I find myself in a continual game of stepping back into my twelve year old shoes. Looking for understanding, remembering the confusion and emotion. There’s a fine line between ignoring a teenage grunt, while not putting up with rudeness. A world where “I can’t find my shoes” often translates to “It’s all your fault that my shoes are not here.”
Gentle suggestions are made, patience is exercised, and then one day it is just too much to ignore. This is the day you find yourself on the side of the road screaming “Do not speak to me like that. This. Is. Not. My. Fault. Speak to me like a normal person.” You are anything but normal. You are a crazy woman.
The silence that follows is filled with a damp, noxious cloud that engulfs you all. You continue speaking but your voice is not normal, there’s a shake, a waiver, an undeniable difference. Your hands are the giveaway, they’re not completely steady. As the car pulls up at the school gates you turn to remind the others about pick up times and lunches and the door clicks. She’s gone. You watch her walk into the distance. The pony tail is not swinging, her shoulders are slumped. You don’t need to see her face to know that in that moment, she is completely miserable. And so are you.
You drive maybe 50 metres or more when you realize she hasn’t closed the door properly. As you pull over to the side of the road, you catch sight of a woman in a car with small children seated in the back. She is gesticulating wildly in your direction. She’s shouting some form of abuse to you while her hands make angry motions towards the back of your car, she has the ferocity of Italian Football coach in the height of a bad decision. You’re in the way. You’re upsetting her morning. You close the door, walk towards her car, tap on the window and explain that you’re not stopping, you’re just closing the door. She looks flustered, she has a full face of make-up in what seems to be an attempt to hide the fact that it’s been a long week. As you return to the car, it occurs to you that maybe her morning has been as delightful as yours. And as you drive away you begin to cry.
It makes sense that the biggest love affairs will provide the hugest emotions. And we all know that teenage love is the most intense of all.
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The way I see it, the “just for fun” bits are never more important than when you’re an almost-teen. It’s a tough, tough time for parents and kids. Cheers to always stopping to close the door. x
Oh Bron, I’ve felt so sick about it all this morning. I know she’ll be back to her usual chirpy self this afternoon but ugh. UGH! Thanks for the comment. xx
I don’t yet know what teenage daughters will be like…but I have a nearly 17 yr old son…..they seem to go into some sort of hibernation and only emerge for food, conversation involves grunting….we have our moments too, it’s hard…but a bacon sandwich seems to bring peace 🙂
Leanne H
My daughter is 15.5 and I find I am swinging between moments of ARGHHHHHHH! And tears when I see her do the simplest things, like when she’s getting ready for a shower and singing softly to herself.
I loved this bit’you are anything but normal. you are acrazy woman.’ Yep. Been there done that. Hugs x
Oh it’s a wild ride entering into teen territory. I remember looking aghast at my daughter when she was 15 and screaming who are you??!! I can very thankfully say that we both survived it. She is 17 now, and coming out the other side. She still has her moments, but they are fewer, and further apart.
I read a book, called embracing Persephone, that helped me understand from a psychological perspective what was going on with her. Unfortunately my own point of reference as a teen is skewed far from the “norm”, so I needed to search for information.
My son is 14.5 and its a different landscape to navigate then with my daughter. Plus, I’m a little bit wiser now. Or so I like to think. xxx
I have only raised boys (19 and 16) but I have spent the majority of my working life teaching teenagers, and the only useful piece of advice I can impart is, “do not engage”-eg, don’t get involved in the argument. It’s extremely difficult because teenagers are so skillful at pushing their parents’ buttons, but if you can remain calm and neutral, it tends to take some of the unconscious thrill they get out of Poking The Bear (not that they know they’re doing it.) If there’s a consequence or punishment that needs to be doled out for inappropriate behavior, state it neutrally and then move on, no matter the moaning and fuming. 2 phrases I learned in a ‘managing young adolescents’ workshop years ago have been in my lexicon ever since: “I’m sorry you feel that way” and “If I were your age, I would probably feel the same way.” Neither one will escalate the situation, at the very least, and extends a certain amount of compassion in the direction of the teenager without compromising your authority.
Keep your chin up – this part’s hairy, but there are some incredible things about teenagers that make them some of the most interesting people in the world. I think once you get things sorted out you’ll enjoy them tremendously. Sending good vibes and tons of sympathy and understanding from Seoul…
You are so very right, there are some incredible things about teenagers that make them incredibly interesting. Some of the best conversations I have are with my teens and their friends. And I feel b
Very privilege when I’m allowed into their world.
I remember my daughter at twelve – dressing up to go out for a walk, so she looked about 16, and then asking me to hold her hand while she balanced on the kerbstones – funny to look back on, but so painful at the time. Good luck to you all!
Absolutely. Mine is thirteen and to say that my heart has ached more in the past eighteen months than the rest of hers and my life put together is an understatement.
I suddenly have the urge to call my mum and apologise of behalf of my 12 year old self, and then 13-17 !
Beautifully written post.
The epitome of 12. Perfectly happy. Happily perfect. Lovely piece.
Oh How I remember those terrible teenage years. My daughter drove me to tears many times. But now she is a beautiful adult woman who is a pleasure to spend time with. “it will get worse before it gets better, but it does get better!” So hang in there.
Tears again. You capture it so well. Stick,with it, I say, as of course you will. My beautiful 24 y o daughter just called me to say she was back in Melbourne, having spent the weekend – her precious time – with her nanna. She didn’t have to visit her nan, or call me to let me know she was safely back. But she had her moments back in the day at 13.
Good post.