Tag Archives: Teenagers

Boy Caves – or Why I let my son’s room look like this (and other parenting rules I break).

The Caboose's Boy Cave

There’s something I really hate about my kids.

They’re slobs.

But I’m OK with that.

Now.

I had this realization when I was trying to enter Slick’s room recently, but was stopped a few feet in the door by the arrangement of debris and furniture. I made a comment about not being able to walk around all the stuff, expecting a guilt-ridden boy to hop up and clear a path for me. Instead he replied, “I like it that way.”

It took me a minute to process what he said. Then I looked around, and from where he was sitting, on his big, oversized chair next to his bed, everything was perfect. His laptop was within reach, the table he does homework on was at his right hand, his gaming chair perfectly positioned in front of the tv with the Xbox nestled below. Sure he had to navigate around things to get to his little cocoon, but once there, everything was at his fingertips. I just had to look at it through his eyes to see it.

My next stop was The Caboose’s room. I paused at the door, looking in. I saw a cluttered, disheveled mess. Crap all over the dressers, toys pushed to the perimeter of the room, clothes hanging on the closet doors. Then I went in, and sat in the “clear” area where he sits when he plays. Everything was within reach. There were dirty clothes among the toys and shoes scattered about, but when I called him up to ask him if he liked it like that, he said that he did.

I’ve tried many times to clear some of the junk from their rooms. We go through the clutter, item-by-item, and I ask if they’re ready to part with things. The answer is always the same. Those dust catchers are markers of their lives. Souvenirs from vacations, sports memorabilia from favorite teams, art projects they made themselves. Every piece is part of them, and they want them there. The collection continues to grow. The clutter stays.

They may go a few days without putting clothes in the hamper, but eventually it gets done. The consequence is theirs when the shirt they want to wear isn’t clean. And they always manage to find the shoes they need, and seem to know right where to look. Perhaps there really is some organization amongst their chaos. I just don’t understand the methodology.

As for the closet doors being open (a pet peeve of mine), I saw it as a sign of maturity. There are no longer monsters in that closet, so there’s no need to close the doors to keep them in.

That particular day The Caboose’s covers and pillows were on the floor, a reminder that he has recently taken to sleeping beside his bed instead of on it. At first it was just on weekends, like a one-man sleepover, but then he started sleeping on the floor every night. He said he liked it. I resisted at first, because you’re not “supposed” to do that. But he was sleeping, which was the goal, so I allowed it. He kisses me goodnight, and crawls into his little space without a peep. Another parenting standard out the window.

This was an epiphany for me.

Children have very little control over their world. They spend most of their waking hours trying to accommodate the requests of parents and teachers, much of the time operating in a manner that’s not in their comfort zone. We tell them when to go to bed, when to wake up, what to wear, where to go. Teachers tell them where to sit, what page to turn to, when the can go to the bathroom. I started feeling like the least I could do was to cut them a little slack about their room.

I needed to put into practice the best parenting advice there is: Choose Your Battles.

It would be easy to fight constantly with your kids, because adults and kids have very different views of things. But there are things that really matter, and things that really don’t. And I’m going to start giving less importance to the things that don’t really matter, and saving my ammunition for the things that do. The worst thing we parents can do is exert control over our kids just because we can.

So if you stop by, and my kids’ rooms are a mess, don’t expect an apology. As long as they stay within the parameters we agree on (safe passage to and from the bed, closet, and door) I’m going to give them some latitude. And let them have their Boy Caves the way they like them.

Perfect House?? Puh-lease.

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The other day I was blog hopping and stumbled upon 31 Days to Clean: Having a Martha House the Mary Way. Curious, I clicked a few links and found out the premise: Following a detailed plan to do some REALLY detailed cleaning in your house, a little every day.

I must admit, I felt a little enthusiastic at first. I’m picturing my house at the end of the 31 days, gleaming all over, and no trace of cobwebs under the dining room table or pawprints on the living room windows. I’m hosting a party in late October, and the “new and improved” version of my house would be a pleasure to show off in such a state.

I looked a little closer. At first thought, this sounded like a really great idea. I peeked at the calendar like it was the Holy Grail.

Day 3: Dust the top of the refrigerator, cabinets and shelves. Clean and shine outside of cabinets. OK, I can do that.

Day 9: Sweep, vacuum, and mop kitchen floors. Add some fresh flowers to brighten your day. Sounds great.

Day 15: Wash bedroom mirrors, walls, and insides of windows. Wash window treatments. Dust ceilings. Huh? Dust ceilings??

Day 24: Clean out desk. Clean out and update files. Organize office supplies and drawers. Clean out files? Can’t I just get another file cabinet??

But it all sounded reasonable, so I started thinking about when I could kick off my house cleaning binge effort. It was about that time that I realized this plan was a couple-hour-a-day plan. When was I supposed to do all the stuff I already do every day? Between buying fresh flowers and dusting ceilings, when was I supposed to do laundry, clean toilets, make beds, cook meals, feed the dog, water the plants, and all the other stuff I try to get to every day but manage to fall short?? The last thing I need is another plan to make me feel even less adequate than I already do.

These steps amounted to about 2 hours a day. Now, if I cleaned my house for 62 hours – with or without a plan – it would be spotless. So this idea was a total scam.

As I pondered the mission over a glass of wine for a few minutes, I came up with an alternate plan: 31 Minutes to Clean: How a Real Woman Gets It All Done.

Anthea Turner, Perfect Housewife.

Supplies needed: a couple of garbage bags, scented all-purpose cleaner, toilet brush, vacuum cleaner, Swiffer cloths, cleaning wipes, and a scented candle.

Step 1 (5 minutes) – Collect garbage. Nothing screams neglect like garbage cans that are spilling over. Empty all the trash cans, and roam through the house checking for garbage. Pay extra attention to the space behind teenagers’ beds. This is where they like to hide the trash from the snacks they’re not supposed to be eating in their rooms.

While you’re at it, pick up all the dirty clothes they left on the floor and toss them in a hamper.

Step 2 (5-7 minutes, depending on how many bathrooms you have and the gender of your children) – Splash some scented cleaner in the toilets. Swish it around and flush. If you have male children, wipe the areas around the toilet, because they can’t aim.

Step 3 (6 minutes) – Pull the covers up on all beds. You have about 2 minutes per room for this step, so make ‘em count. Smooth the covers and place the pillows at the top of the bed. If you have decorative pillows, toss them on, too.

Step 4 (3 minutes) – Pick up the clutter in the living and dining room. Keep a few decorative baskets around so you can toss things in and make it look like it’s supposed to be there. Grab a Swiffer and give the horizontal surfaces a quick wipe.

Step 5 (5 minutes) – Run the vacuum cleaner through the traffic paths. Make sure you go in one direction so the carpet will stand up in a pattern, and visitors will know you vacuumed.

Step 6 (3 minutes) – Throw dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Rinse the coffee pot.

Step 7 (3 minutes) – Wipe the counters with a scented wipe. Don’t buy the cheap ones, they leave streaks and cause more work. I like Mrs. Meyer’s Clean Day Wipes. They’re pricey, but they smell good. And a house that smells good must be clean, right??

Step 8 (5 minutes) – Run a vacuum over tile and wood floors. Spritz tile with a little scented all-purpose cleaner to make it smell clean.

Step 9 (1 minute) – Light a scented candle. (Using the same scent will help you pull off the illusion.) A good scented candle can make up for a lot of neglect.

For those of you inclined to check my math, that’s about 36 minutes. But you get my point.

Real women don’t have time to do dust ceilings or update files. We’ve got kids to raise, parents to tend to, meals to cook, and some of us even have jobs. And helping with homework. Don’t get me started on the homework.

So take my advice. Forget about having a perfect house while your kids are little. If there’s no dust under your refrigerator, then you probably missed out on something.

And know they love you.

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Letting Go. Artist: Sue Kafka-Ellis http://www.art-base.org

A self-proclaimed dispenser of wisdom, I recently shared a parenting thought with Louise over at I Choose Happy Now. She wrote a post about sending her first-born off to Pre-K, and the tug on her heart as he reached this milestone.

I shared with her one of my favorite little pearls of parenting wisdom: Roots and Wings.

The full quote, from Southern journalist and author Hodding Carter states “There are two lasting bequests we can give our children: One is roots, the other is wings.”

The roots part is what we usually think of as parenting. Teaching them right from wrong, good manners, faith. Giving them roots brings us closer to our kids, because it’s a time when we’re instilling in them values we want them to have, molding them into the people we want them to become.

The wings part is much harder.

There are the small steps. Sending him off to Pre-K, wondering if he’ll be able to open his Ziploc bag at snack time. The first day of second grade, wondering who she’ll eat lunch with. Or the rite of independence The Caboose experienced last night: wandering the stadium with his friends at a football game while we sat vigil over the popcorn.

Then there are the big leaps. Going on her first date. Getting his driver’s license. Going away to college.

My friend Stacy was the first to chant the “Roots and Wings” mantra to me back when The Trailblazer was in high school. With her first-born a year older than mine, she shared with me her anxiety as her daughter left for college. Assuring her that her baby girl was ready for the real world made me realize that I had to accept the same. (I mean, if you can’t take your own advice, you’ve got no business dispensing it, right?)

One of the hardest lessons of parenting is realizing that our REAL job is to prepare them for their time without us. Whether that time is 9 to 2 at preschool, four years at college, or the independent adult life they will someday live without us. We’ve got to teach them well, and then let them go.

It’s all about Roots and Wings.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ztVaqZajq-I

OK, so he had a growth spurt.

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I can’t always talk on the Internet about the ~~stupid~~ funny things Slick does, because occasionally he and The Trailblazer are so bored they read my blog. (Usually during class…) But today the lad threw me a bone.

The Mass of the Holy Spirit was today. The students at Jesuit High School forgo their military-style khakis and wear a coat and tie on this day every year for the occasion. Today Slick thought it would be funny to wear his old fish tie.

I love this kid!!

Going up to communion, last year’s history teacher caught a glimpse and started snickering. This triggered a snickering contagion that passed through my son. I’m completely stunned that he did not get Penance Hall for this. And that lightning hasn’t yet struck him down for his irreverence.

And I’m glad I wasn’t there. Because I would’ve peed in my pants laughing.

Rites of Passage Sure Have Changed

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I keep a short leash on my boys when it comes to certain things. The big kids weren’t allowed to have a Facebook page until they were in high school, and then only under my watch. Slick and The Trailblazer didn’t have internet on their phones until recently. The poor Caboose is the ONLY sixth-grader on the planet that doesn’t have a cell phone at all.

So last night was a bit of a big night. The Caboose sent his first email. To his dad. Then one to The Trailblazer up at LSU. (Then we had to call his big brother to tell him to check his email.)

His new school is very “21^st Century,” and most of their curriculum is based from the laptops every student is issued. They have school email addresses, and they use email as their primary means of communication.

He showed me how to open up Outlook to check his email like Bill Gates must’ve done once to show the world. I oooh-ed and aaah-ed, and gave a proud smile. He had two messages in his Inbox from teachers. And now he has two in his Sent Items as well.

I saw no need for an email address until now. (The fewer paths pedophiles have to contact my kid the better.) But his school has an extremely aggressive filter on their services (and it’s required), so whether I was ready or not, it was time.

He’s now entered the world of electronic communication. And I’m sure he’ll be toting a cell phone before too much longer. But it won’t have internet.

Cuz I’m the MOM

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Who remembers The Mom Song, the little ditty sung to The William Tell Overture that takes all the stuff a mom says in a day, compressed into a couple of minutes…

(I CAN NOT get enough of this.)

Well, now the teens have had their reply.

I hope y’all enjoyed this as much as I did. 🙂

Impulse Buying — or How to Get Your Kids to Clean Their Rooms

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It’s all Target’s fault.

There’s a new Super Target near my neighborhood, and I heard through the grapevine (Facebook) that it opened a few days early AND that there were no crowds AND that they had everything in every size AND that I HAD to drop what I was doing and head over there before too many people found out and it got crowded and picked over.

So a few days ago I did just that. I roamed through every department getting the lay of the land, exploring every aisle and putting things I didn’t need in the basket. (This is starting to sound a little like the trip to Sam’s that got me to make Red Gravy, isn’t it?)

Sirloin Medallions. Yum.

As I was roaming through the grocery section (yes, they have a grocery section!) I noticed a package of steaks. Little sirloin steaks wrapped in bacon, like tiny, affordable filet mignons. I’m thinking that my kids probably wouldn’t know the difference, and probably would enjoy these affordable (and cute) steaks for dinner. (No, I’m not an impulse buyer, am I?)

Then I remembered a recipe my friend Nell from Allbritton or Nothing posted on her blog a few weeks ago for Steakhouse Steaks. She declared that cooking steaks this way at home would never make you pay big bucks for fancy shmancy steaks from the expensive steakhouse ever again. And that cooking steaks this way would make your husband want to Buy You Things. All I wanted was to get my kids to Clean Their Rooms, so I figured steaks from Target would be good enough. In the basket they went.

They were cute little sirloin medallions, wrapped in bacon, three to a skewer. I grabbed three packages and headed for the cashier. I hurried home to made Nell’s Steakhouse Steaks. My kids made yummy noises during dinner and asked me to make it again.

They did not, however, clean their rooms.

*I recommend you hop over to Nell’s site and read her narrative accompanying the recipe. You’ll probably find her ~~more~~ almost as amusing as you find me. (Wink.)

Nearing the End of Lazy Summer

Talk Nerdy to Me — Part I

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They’re irritating and overused. Like the sound of fingernails of a blackboard, I cringe when I hear them. We’ve all got a few on our personal lists, but there are a handful that are universally accepted as obnoxious. Annoying phrases are everywhere.

Source: universecityblog.wordpress.com

I know I’m not the only one who wishes many of these phrases and words would go away. I know there are others like me out there who long for a return to a more genteel manner of speaking. (Now, I don’t want to swing to the opposite extreme. I don’t need to ask my son “with whom he will be going to the movies.”) But I would embrace the renaissance of a few polite and well-mannered phrases to replace some of the ones I feel just have to go.

The number one offender: “(I/she/he) was like.” Attention teenagers: this is not a verb phrase. If you want to describe what someone says, does, or feels, there are verbs for that purpose. Please learn how to use them.

Fusion words: combining two words, then dropping a syllable or two because you’re too lazy to say the whole thing. “ ‘Sup?” is the number one offending word in this category, but there are many, many more. “Dja-eat?” (“Did you eat?”) If the statement or question requires two words, please speak them both. Having a conversation reduced to a few grunted syllables is just rude and makes you sound like a cave man.

Overuse of the word, “Whatever.” This non-committal word usually means the responder disagrees with what you’re saying, but doesn’t have the energy or vocabulary to respond appropriately. Parents, beware. It does not imply agreement. It’s a verbal tool teenagers use to stop a conversation.

Interrogative words: What happened to them? Questions should begin with words like how, may, why, or did. Raising the pitch at the end of a phrase and inserting a question mark does not constitute a question. (“You went to the store?”)

The dreaded “No offense, but…” This phrase should just be stricken. No good can come of anything said after that phrase. This disclaimer does not give you license to say rude or ugly things, just because you’ve preceded the insult with a feigned politeness. Using the Southern cousin, “Bless his/her heart” (as in, “My aunt is crazy, bless her heart.”) after a put-down is just as offensive. Don’t do it.

Now, I realize that language is an evolving entity. Today’s vernacular is significantly different from that of just a few decades ago. Therefore — as with all things – this, too, shall pass. I just hope I live long enough to hear it happen.

For now, if you see me around and want to chat, avoid these phrases. Speak in complete sentences and leave out some of the slang. Let your language bear some resemblance to the mother tongue we learned in school. Please talk nerdy to me.

Which phrases make your head spin? Please share if I’ve left out the one that makes your head spin!

Coming soon: Part 2 – Nerdy words, and how to use them.

With Apologies to Dr. Maslow

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I don’t consider myself an “expert” in any way. But with 45 years combined experience (19+16+10) parenting 3 boys, I have learned a thing or two. And by today’s measurable standards I’ve done a decent job. They make good grades. They have reasonable standards of hygiene. None of them has been to juvey.

So (after I pat myself on the back) let me share with you a little of the wisdom I’ve gained.

Teenage boys only give their undivided attention to one thing: video games.

When there’s a controller in their hands, they can block out anything. Parents calling, little brothers screaming, phones ringing. I pray the house never catches on fire while Slick is playing Call of Duty. He’d be a goner. I even saw The Trailblazer’s girlfriend on a Skype screen competing for his attention while he was playing FIFA. She lost. They get hypnotized by the pixels on the screen like deer staring into headlights. (A few days ago I thought about throwing the main breaker and telling them there was a power outage just to get their attention. But it was too hot to be without the A/C, so I had to shrug off that idea.)

Once you get past video games on the Needs pyramid, everything else comes with an underlying distraction: thinking about girls. The chart is self-explanatory from that point forward.

The tiny space at the top of the pyramid is what remains of their former dependence on us. As they rely less on mom and dad for other things, the remaining contact is only for the purposes of bonding (us) and asking for money (them). They want to spend as little time with their parents as possible, preferably not in public.

So those of you with teenage boys in your life, study this chart carefully, and save yourself a lot of grief. Don’t get your feelings hurt when they bail on having dinner at home in favor of hanging out with friends. Don’t think you understand what motivates them. Don’t speak to them in public. And make sure the smoke alarms in your house are loud enough to be heard over COD.

I’m sure Dr. Maslow would agree with me.