Meet My Inner Adolescent
“Dude, Mrs. Johnston gave us another quiz today. She is so harsh.”
My 12-year-old stepdaughter said this to a friend of hers as I drove them to soccer practice.
“I know. I’m all, ‘What’s up with her?” the friend replied. “She gave me a D on that test last week.”
”Whoa,” my stepdaughter replied. “That is harsh.”
Unseen in the front seat, I winced. Stop saying ‘harsh!’ I wanted to shout. You sound like a total dork!
Of course, I kept my thoughts to myself. My stepdaughter is grappling with puberty right now and since her mother is two states away, it’s up to me to guide her and her 15-year-old sister through the dark waters of adolescence. As a former teenager myself, I feel fairly well equipped for the job.
What I wasn’t expecting was my, well, harsh reaction to some of the awkwardness that comes with my stepdaughters’ transitions.
My 12-year-old, for example, wears a pair of wonky eyeglasses that completely obscure her finely chiseled, fairy queen face. The moment she mentioned contacts, we got them for her (it helps that my father is an ophthalmologist). But despite repeated attempts she can’t bear to put them in her eyes-so she’s still wearing the eyeglasses and still feels like an ugly duckling.
On the outside, I’m patient, noncommittal, encouraging. “You look great in your glasses,” I say comfortingly. “Wear the contacts whenever you’re ready.”
But on the inside, I seethe. You worry about being a nerd, but the moment you lose those glasses, every boy will be asking you out! C’mon, no pain, no gain. Put in those contacts, dammit! What is wrong with you?!
I have reached a crossroads in mothering. I can be one of those moms with teen and tween daughters known for comments like, “Your hair would look so much prettier if you’d just let me make an appointment for you with my stylist,” or “It would make your father and me so happy if you’d try out for cheerleading instead of the debate team.”
Or I can bite my tongue and let her choose her own way.
My husband and I have opted for the latter, but it is far from easy. As we were having dinner tonight, he said. “You know, now she’s talking about just not wearing her glasses or her contacts. I wish she’d just put those damn contacts in! She’d feel better about herself and she’d be the prettiest girl at her school!”
Right or wrong, it’s nice to know I’m not alone.
He’s helped me realize that inside all of us, there’s an uncertain adolescent version of ourselves, passing snide judgment on our thickening middles, our J. Jill wardrobes, our well-worn coupon holders.
Our children.
It’s what we do with our acne-prone alter ego that matters. Do we listen to the nagging voice and pass our ridiculous insecurities on to our kids? Or do we look for another solution?
I can tell you that my inner teen is grounded. No e-mails, no phone
calls, no communication of any kind. For at least the next six
years.
© 2006, Lucinda Ferrara (Suburban
Turmoil)
Lucinda Ferrara is a freelance writer and Emmy award winning television journalist currently moonlighting as chauffer to her 1 1/2 year-old daughter and 12 and 15-year-old stepdaughters. You can read more about her life on her blog at www.suburbanturmoil.blogspot.com.