Help is what we want to give. It’s why we’re here. It’s what we’ve always done: helping our kids learn to walk and talk and feed themselves, to read a book, throw a ball, pet a cat, ride a bike. We were so useful! Their little arms reached up to us as they asked for, pleaded for and gratefully accepted our help. Remember those days?
Fast-forward 14, 15, 16, 17 years.
When was the last time you offered to help your teen? When was the last time she accepted?
Read more: H is for Help at mom.me
You love them. You hate them. They sabotage you. They rescue you.
Lizzie and I talk about the ups and downs of girl-to-girl friendships in our newest post, G is for Girlfriends at mom.me. It’s part of our series, The A to Zs of Teenagers. That’s seven letters down, 19 more to go. Will we make it?
Like all mothers, I have two families: the one I happened into and the one I made happen. I had nothing to do with the former (I simply arrived on the scene) and everything to do with the latter.
What can we learn (or unlearn) from our past?
What did I learn as a daughter than makes me a better mother?
You can read more — here — at mom.me where Lizzie and I are blogging on the A to Zs of Teenagers. This one is F is for Family.
Eat more. Eat less. Eat healthier. Eat slower. Eat breakfast. Eat with the family. Don’t eat standing in front of the open refrigerator. Eat a piece of fruit if you’re hungry. Don’t eat in your room.
Does any of this—does all of this—sound familiar?
Lizzie and I write about the battle ground of food in our ongoing column, The A to Zs of Teenagers, at mom.me. Here is it.
I’m talking about the drama of the mother-daughter relationship, that joyful, painful, hot, cold, ying, yang, dizzying, tumultuous blend of intense bonding and icy distance, long hugs and exasperated eye rolls, deeply shared moments and stone-cold silences, glorious sun and ferocious storms.
The random acts of kindness.
The random acts of meanness.
You can read more — plus Lizzie’s take on teen girl drama – here at mom.me where we are blogging on the A to Zs of Teenagers. This one is D is for Drama.
In those dark days of Lizzie’s mid-teenhood, when we rode an emotional rollercoaster that almost did me in (and would have, had I not made it into a book—My Teenage Werewolf: a Mother, A Daughter, A Journey through the Thicket of Adolescence), it seemed as if the only times we stopped squaring off against each other, the only times we weren’t busy spoiling for a fight, were when we were sitting across a little table at our local hang-out sipping our coffee drinks. In this new post at mom.me, C is for Coffee, Lizzie and I talk about what this time meant to us. When I read what Lizzie wrote, it almost made me forget how I used to want to wring her neck.
This post is part of our The A to Zs of Teenagers series. Check out A is for Advice and B is for Boyfriends. Next up: D is for…you guess it, DRAMA.
Lizzie and I discuss what makes for an ideal boyfriend in this second in a series of (maybe) 26 posts we’re writing for mom.me. Read it here.
When I saw our names together as authors, I got all misty-eyed. Not that I would wish being a writer on her…but who knew, in the darkest days of werewolfdom, that we would be collaborating on posts, both paid authors.
Mothers are free with advice.
Daughters are loathe to take it.
Gee, that’s news…
But Lizzie and I have our own unique take on this thorny mother-daughter subject. We’re blogging together at mom.me… from A to Z. This is our first post: A is for Advice. Take a look!
Noticed that I haven’t posted recently? That’s because all mother-daughter issues have been resolved, and there’s just nothing to write about. That’s because I have learned all the lessons of motherhood and am now busy readying myself for sainthood. That’s because my werewolf is an angel, and my house is as calm as a yoga retreat.
Actually, I HAVE been blogging about the ups and downs of life with a teen — at mom.me, a big, lively site that includes articles and essays and blogs on parenting kids of all ages. And the, um, adventure, continues.
Here are links to my most recent posts. Please do click and take a look.
On Not Being College-Bound
Learning to let my daughter control her fate
Watching My Daughter Drive
Why it breaks my heart, just a little
My Kid Doesn’t Care About Voting
Finally 18, and just not interested in the election
Did you know, at age 18, what you wanted to be when you “grew up”? And now that you are grown up, are you doing whatever it was you thought you wanted to do – you knew for dead certain you wanted to do — when you were 18?
I ask because Lizzie just started a two-year culinary program with a specialization in patisserie. And I had this vision of her, in five years, making signature desserts for some amazing, serious-about-food-but-not-snotty, quirky-but-not-terminally-hip restaurant. In the Northwest, of course. Maybe even in Eugene. I’m thinking Whitaker district, right next to the Ninkasi Brewery. (My visions are pretty specific.)
And then I had a vision of her behind the counter of her own bakery. In these post-cupcake times, where you can get artisan bread at Safeway (sort of), I wonder what her specialty will be. She’ll have one, I know. She’ll have brought back ideas from her culinary tour of Europe. (Alas, I will be impressed into service as companion and note-taker. Such is the drudgery of being a trailing Mom.) Whatever it is her bakery specializes in, it will be irresistible and addictive and eminently tweetable. Yelpers will be falling all over each other praising its deliciousness. A charming, quirky video of her business, shot and produced by her brother Jackson with animation by her brother Zane will go viral, thus simultaneously catapulting her brand to national status and the boys’ careers to stardom. I will be asked to head the bakery’s Mediterranean operation, establishing culinary partnerships in Italy, Spain, Greece and the south of France. (Impressed into service once again.)
Or, on the other hand… five years from now she may be a firefighter or in the midst of veterinary school or coaching girls’ track or couch-surfing the globe. Because who really knows, at 18, what she will be at 25 or 45 or 65? Isn’t it wonderful that we get to grow and change and change again, invent and re-invent ourselves, have second and third acts, and even encores? I watch Lizzie on the brink of it, and I’m so excited for her. I can’t wait to see what happens.