My Life is a Dunkin Donuts Commercial

Today at the doctor's I had to fill out one of those profile sheets that want to know what drugs I may die from if I take them, how much I drink, my family history, etc. The funniest question on the survey was what were my hobbies and activities. I sat in the uncomfortable chair and thought about it. I would love to scrapbook. Cycling would be a great way to get in shape. I will never say no to a few hours of quality shopping. These are all great answers but my guilt in lying to a doctor overcame and I wrote the truth. My hobby and activity (yes, this is in the singular) is to chauffer my children to THEIR hobbies and activities (yes, I meant in the plural).

I swore I would not over-program my kids. One athletic activity and one music/art activity and religious school and that would be it. We would have family dinners, family play time, and family vacations because extra-curricular activities would not dictate our lives. Once my kids were hit with the recognition that THEY had choices MY choice of living the family sitcom life of serenity and bliss went out the window. Here is a basic rundown of our activities once school begins. Teen 1: 5:45 am swimming (yes, I know it is insane), cross country, swimming again, One Act rehearsals, Show Choir rehearsals, and Jazz Band (maybe). Teen 2: Travel soccer, voice lessons, band, religious school, middle school soccer, swim team. Oh, and I am a high school assistant principal so I have ALL of the free time in the world to do this. My desperate need for one more driver in the house to manage the chaos of all of these events is rapidly overriding the fear that my 15 yr old is nowhere ready to drive - especially given her knack for walking into inanimate objects (like I want her in a car?). Give her the keys so I only have to make 12 stops after school not 24.

I saw a Dunkin Donuts commercial that had a smiling mom driving a mommobile (aka minivan). She was gazing in her rear view mirror at her adoring and oh so appreciative kids while sipping a frozen coffee drink. I swear it was laced with something because no mom that I know has that happy look with the full knowledge that they are driving back and forth across town for oboe, soccer, swimming, and karate as the jingle went. Here is the reality of that commercial in my life. First of all, the coffee drink is melted into some liquid and left over from the previous day but it is wet and will do. The kids are fighting who rides shotgun with the oldest yelling that the law says you have to be 12 to ride in the front seat with the 11 yr old telling her to make her move. We pull out of the garage and get far enough away for the 11 yr old now in the backseat to let me know that X person called 3 days ago to change the location of said soccer game to Timbuktu at a different time. At the same time I am being told that I was volunteered to bring snacks. Quiet for about 30 seconds before the other child realizes that she left her shoes/bathing suit at home with my sanity. Would I mind dropping her off and then going back home to get her stuff because she wants to talk with her friends before she swims. Younger sibling then makes a snide comment and older sibling makes a nasty comment and then when mom yells, I am reminded that I volunteered to do all of these things about 5 months ago and if I minded I shouldn't have volunteered. When older daughter gets out of the car I am then TOLD that I am driving all 30 members of the swim team to a party and I should remember that I am forbidden to speak and why haven't I left to get the bathing suit.

The closest I am getting to the Dunkin Donuts commercial is the 3 times I drive past it trying to manage their life and give them all of the opportunities in the world at the sake of mine. So, the only question I have left to ask is to the drive thru lady at DD for some of what the woman in the car is having. Make mine a double.

Having a Conversation With a Tree Is More Productive

I'm not sure if it is the blank stares without a response that drive me insane or if it is the lack of eye contact followed by the "huh?" After years of participation in the little known scientifc study of teenage-response to parental questioning sponsored and funded by the University of Mom, I am proud to publish these not- so-astonishing results ( unless you don't have a teen and then this will be quite enlightening).

Hypothesis #1: Teenagers speak a different language and thus when parents speak we are looked as though we are from Mars.

Conclusion: This is only true when it comes to directional phrases that are spoken when said teen is on Facebook or if the directional phrase is to get off Facebook, clean something in the house, or do homework. The evidence for this was based upon consistent requests to move a pink swim bag for the better part of 2 weeks (smelly wet towel and all) to get repetitive affirmations that it will get done as soon as she is done responding to the people that she is chatting with. Further evidence was needed if this was particular only to Facebook. A test was also run on my 11.5 yr old since she doesn't have access to Facebook. Her test consisted of being told to do homework. It was only when the distance between her face and mine was gradually decreased in inch intervals beginning with a length of 1 foot and finally getting a response at .6 inches. This resulted in movement towards the homework location and yet still failed to elicit the proper stimulus response of a completed homework assignment. It took the bribe of dessert to break through the language barrier.

Hypothesis #2: Teenagers have the exterior form of ears but the reality is that the parts that pick up sound don't develop until certain phrases such as "shopping for new clothes" or "boyfriend/girlfriend" or "car/sports/clothes" are uttered.

Conclusion: This is true. Each teen is programmed with magical trigger terms that immediately jump start those internal physiological devices that allow them to hear and thus respond to questions and requests. These trigger terms are dependent upon age. Right now, the trigger words for my 15 yr. old are "car, boyfriend's name, or money." Her male friend when he is over, "food, food, and food."

Hypothesis #3: Teenagers have periods in which the neurons in the brain overfire and there are only automatic bodily functions. All others, such as hearing, are optional and become dysfunctional when there is too much of an overload of information.

Conclusion: Inconclusive. The scientists (my husband, her swim coach, and myself) in this study needed to link the "huh" and "were you talking to me?" responses with specific behaviors which, given the rapid rate of mood swings, could not be conclusively link to a specific consistent behavior. We have found that an increase in volume or the waving of some precious commodity reboots the teen's processing system and thus allows for a suitable response (but only after 124,948,637 attempts). One may wonder what results in an overload of information. This is the use of more than one electronic device at a time. In our family room/lab we found that overload occurs when responding to a text message, chatting with more than 4 friends at once on Facebook and watching TV simultaneously.

It is the results of this scientific study that has resulted in one of my favorite catch-phrases which is "I might as well have a conversation with a tree." For those of you that have trees in your yard, consider yourselves lucky that you too can engage in the art of conversation with a teen.

Glad My College Education Was A Waste Of Money

I graduated from the University of Maryland in 1990 (Go Terps!!!). I am originally from NY. This should give you an idea of what my 4 1/2 years of college cost. Yes, by today's standards this was a bargain and I met my husband so it couldn't have been a total waste. But if you asked my teens, I am the stupidest person alive. It is amazing how much I don't apparently know and they do and that they are all to eager to remind me of. "Mom you can go since the light is green!" Thank you even though you haven't taken Driver's Ed yet. "Let me set up the Wii game for you so you don't reset all of the settings." Gee, the fact that I had to program all of the VCR's and DVD's for the past 20 years doesn't count for anything. "Why does it take you so long to text me back? It isn't hard." Yes it is when I use vowels and punctuation marks. "Don't you remember that I don't EAT spaghetti? I NEVER eat it so why do you keep making it?" Why you ask my first born? Because you don't eat anything and frankly, I stopped caring. This isn't Burger King, you don't get it your way.

These are just a sampling of the daily and somewhat mundane reminders I get that I am clueless and they are omniscient. I should have known from a much earlier age that any respect that I had for my own intelligence or that others may have thought about me was doomed. It began around Thanksgiving when my eldest came home from school to tell us about the movie she saw about the Pilgrims. She proceeded to describe the Pilgrims and informed my husband and I that one of the Pilgrims in the video was African American. "Um, honey, that can't be right." "No Mom, she was. My teacher told us this was what it was like. And she knows 'cuz she is a TEACHER and she knows and you don't!" I am a history teacher. This conversation continued today as we were discussing the summer essay she has to write for her AP World History course. Once again I was informed how I don't know anything about this type of essay. I taught AP for 5 years.

I have no idea of the emotional strife that my kids go through; after all, it is different today (and did they even have cliques when I went to school because I don't understand how it is trying to fit in). The regular cries of how little I understand about friends, first boyfriends, cliques rings in my ears. After all, I skipped adolescence and went from 10 to 20 overnight while living in Utopia. When I then ask for them to tell me in my most sympathetic and caring voice, the response is an eye-roll and a stomp that I should know. Someone get the Calgon and take me away.

Pointing out to my children that I am not as stupid as they think I am - immature, possibly- results in a challenge on their part. "Okay, what is--------------? Do you know? Of course not." Well no, honey, I don't remember Physics, the 5 different types of volcanic structures (I live in Maine and don't care), or how to play the oboe, french horn, sax, etc. But can you balance a checkbook; wait, bad example as I can't either. Can you coordinate 2 kids and 5 after school activities occurring at the same time? Can you negotiate world peace between 2 fighting children? Can you tell me the historical significance of the Bhagavad-Gita or the waves of liberalism and conservatism in American History? When and where did you get your degree and can I thank whoever paid for it so I don't have to?

Would You Like Some Cheese and Crackers With That?

After following many child-rearing blogs, I feel very secure in saying that whining should have ended before any child reaches double digits in age. At least that is what all of the blogs, expert books, and my pediatrician told me. So what is it then called when your 11 1/2 (as I have been reminded upteen times today along with "what do I get?" questions - answer: A Clue) drags out ever syllable and adds a raised pitch when trying to force the second syllable from a single vowel. For example, "but" becomes "buuuu [pause for a different pitch] uuuuuuuut." Whining takes an entirely different toll when it comes from an adolescent. First of all, I can't pick up either one of my teens and put them in time out. They are too heavy for me and run faster than I can. Secondly, they don't march to their room when told to go there to stop. Finally, I can't absolutely lose it and yell because they can yell louder than me. Not to say that I haven't tried any or all of these. What usually happens is that I am laughed at and told how stupid I am. Strike one for the cool, collected mom.

Today I received a phone call at work from a whining child. The whining complaint about the sibling should go down as an orchestrated demonstration of every possible note on a piano as all of them were reached through a simple request to "Tell my sister to stop being my mother." It was also done so loudly that it caused my boss to stop at my office door and pause, and laugh at me as he was able to hear all of this from my phone's ear piece. Strike two for the professional mom that can separate and master the work and family world.

After the third phone call in which I gave up trying to mediate as having more than one house phone allowed my angels to fight with EACH OTHER and yell, scream, and whine towards each other for the better part of 10 minutes while I just sat and completed some work in silence, I decided that I would come home to remorseful and quiet children. This would be achieved by my limiting their access to 60 minutes per floor including designated boundaries for the computer, wii, and cable. Note to self: don't implement a punishment 20 minutes away from monitoring the said punishment. Anyway, I can home to be asked if we could go out for some fun. Now I am not sure who demonstrated a greater need for being committed - the angels for having the audacity to ask or me for giving in. My logic? Well, none but there was no whining. We get into the car, start to drive to our destination, and what happens? "Moooo [pause for change in tone]oooom, it is raaaaaiiiiinnnnnnng and it is coooooold." The other child and the more skilled whiner. "Fiiiiinnnnnneeee, I don't careeeeeee. I still want toooo goooooo." Strike three for the compassionate mom. And I am out. To the bench/couch I go.

What I realized from all of this is a few things. Teens whine louder and more deliberately than younger kids. they are also perfectly aware that they are doing this and have full control over their emotions so that whining in a logical world is unnecessary for conveying frustration or wants. So, what do I do and how do I handle the whining? My friends and family say go for the other wine but I would love your ideas. Batter up!

The Mother Ship is Calling

If anyone ever doubted Pavlov's theory on conditioning should observe what my 15 yr old does whenever her cell phone vibrates or that magic "happy sound." It is like the mother ship is sending a signal to the smaller ships beckoning them to come and get the signal. I don't get it. The arguments by my husband to actually pick up the phone and , gasp, talk to someone with sounds that generate from one's voice box, falls on deaf ears. To tell you the truth, I don't get it where our intentions and Pavlovian conditioning collided. I was a fortunate teen whose parents understood how important the phone was. I was lucky enough to get my OWN phone WITH my own phone number. It was for Chanukah and the plan was for my boyfriend to call me on my new phone. I probably was cursed by that act now that I think about it. For my eldest's 14th birthday, we hid her new cell phone in her room and dialed the number, just as my boyfriend did 26 years earlier. For a brief, and I do mean brief, and inexpensive moment, we were the best parents ever and all was agreed that emergency purposes and responsibility would prevail. Here is where the curse comes in with a double hex whammy (there will be many tales of the power of the mother's curse but I digress.).

As much as my parents complained about my ghastly phone use from 7:30 ish until 10:00 pm, it pails in comparison to the 24 hour connection that my daughter has with her cell phone. It is constant and continual. Her school has a no cell phone policy and the beauty of vibrate and silence allow her to communicate with her friends in schools that don't share such a policy. She can text blindfolded; she can text and eat at the same time (walking and eating is a challenge though); she can text and Facebook at the same time. I would take away her phone for all the times she sneaks it but she paid for this one and thus, I feel as though I have no right taking it.
There is also a level of blackmail involved with her using the cell phone. Actually, I am renaming this device as it isn't a phone because she NEVER answers or uses the phone aspect of it, even when it is an emergency that her panic-strickenned mother can't call her to spoil her date with her friends. I will call it the Textomatic and she is the Texteriminator. Okay, back to the blackmail. There are many times when I would like her to have face-to-face interaction with living organisms and encourage her to invite friends over, go to the movies, etc. As soon as I suggest this it is back to the Textomatic, texting everyone and their dog about when the plans will occur. When I tell her to get off the phone it is thrown back in my face that I was the one pushing her to make plans and that this is what I wanted and she is only trying to make happy. If I don't want her to have plans then I shouldn't encourage her to do so (insert eye-rolling and gasping at your leisure).

The other thing I don't get about this texting is why is it necessary to text the person sitting next to you? I have seen a group of her friends at our house together randomly texting each other. What possible emergency is going on within the span of 6 inches?

Apparently there is more that I don't get. I have explained to her that we have unlimited texting. Whoever came up with the idea of unlimited texting is both a saint and the devil. It is the cause of a breakdown of true communication but my checkbook remains intact. At a maximum, she has received and sent over 1500 text messages in a month. I can't even imagine how broke I would be if I had to pay for those messages out of our plan. Actually, I can as the 11 year old who has access to a cell phone periodically doesn't understand that she doesn't have unlimited texting and so far, I'm in the hole about an extra $100.00. Unlimited texting however has also contributed to a breakdown in communication skills. Why? Well there is another language involved which doesn't rely on verbs, punctuation, or complete sentences. No matter how many times I tell her that it costs the same and thus, she should use her writing skills to find the perfect word or phrase to capture her feelings, I get the response of a :( .

I am truly concerned about the fact that there is a generation of children who will be significantly lacking such skills as how to read body language, make eye contact, or use inflection when they talk or understand how important tone is. I am concerned that texting has taken over as the most important thing in my kid's life and yet, despite my ability to decipher text (I am more than happy to serve as a translator), I am nervous that her ability to articulate emotions without emoticons will hinder our relationship.

So I Thought I Had A Clue

Okay, let me begin by saying that I thought I would have had it easy. Well maybe not EASY, but certainly easier than others. Afterall, I have 15+ years as an educator in Middle School and High School. I had the teen thing figured out, took the adolescent psychology courses (which my 15 year old reminds me on a daily basis doesn't apply to her because she is DIFFERENT and her own person), and counseled parents on what was going on with their teens with a high degree of success. So how with all of this knowledge could it not be easy? Simple answer - a greater force has an incredible sense of humor and irony and decided to throw me a teen where I would not have a clue as to what to do and how to handle anything that would come.

That may be a bit of an exaggeration or more faith in predetermination than my religion allows but it is the only explanation for the rollercoaster ride of my life parenting a 15 year old and an 11 year old who doesn't understand that she is not the twin of the 15 year old; except of course when she wants to beat her sister up. Hence the motive for this blog. There are numerous blogs for mothers to help get past the leaky poppy diapers, the world record breaking projectile vomit, the sagging and sore boobs from breastfeeding. A stroll to any bookstore finds shelves of books available on baby care, advice in handling children with ADHD, medical conditions, etc. I have 2 very normal, driving me insane teens (yes, I know the 11 year old isn't exactly a teen but if you caught wind of her attitude you would reconsider that assessment). So instead of searching fruitless for the clue that I have with everyone else's teens, I thought I would write about my day-to-day life in the hopes that other moms and dads that have amazing teens who suffer random bouts of the "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" disease come together and maybe shed a clue or at least a sense of community into this adventure.