I am a mom with a teen. A young teen, but a teen. 14 to be exact, so I am not an expert in any way in the ways of parenting a teen through the turmoil and angst of such rites of passage as Driver's Licenses and college applications. I am, an expert in parenting him, however. At least I think so. I like to think of myself as a formidable match to his wit, challenge, attitude and questions. I make mistakes, but he has 4 siblings (all neatly spaced 2 years apart!) who follow him, so if I screw him up completely with my parental goofs, maybe at least a majority of my children will turn out ok enough to want to come home and visit me for holidays or when they just want to be around me and fill my house with as much noise as they already do.
They provide me my best material, and the swift passing of their childhood is the reason that I started writing to them and about them. I want to remember all of this, and I want for them to have something that jogs their memory when they are parenting their own that makes them pause and smile and remember that at the heart of my parenting mistakes and successes, we had fun together along the way.
So back to my teen. Often mistaken for my brother because of his mutant height (actually, my husband is quite tallish), and the fact that I (like to think that I) look young for my age and the number of children that I have (5....yes, it's a "handful" but I can totally "handle" it and them). My teen just turned 14. He is totally excited to be inching ever closer to the magical age of 16 when he has delusions of driving around in a sporty car looking cool, when in actuality he will probably have to pry the keys to my Honda Odyssey (her name is "Vadar") from my unyielding grasp in order to drive his sisters and brother to ballet (more on that later), or swim practice (later for that too), or whatever shenanigans they are into in 2 years.
So while he is hurtling himself toward 16, I am just happy that he is 14 and still wants to hang out with me. He still thinks that I am funny and cool, and he is a hero to his siblings who adore him. But he is a human garbage disposal. Case in point:
(over lunch today-he's homeschooled along with his siblings, so we have lunch most days together)
Me: Are you sure that you should sprinkle furikake over that risotto? Your stomach might revolt.
(note that the Risotto was made with pumpkin and rosemary with a bacon garnish)
Teen: (sideways glance) Yeah, the Old Bay I already used isn't cutting it. I need some diversity in my seasonings.
If you don't see the "teen logic" in this and why I am scratching my head that he would concoct such a gastrointestinal melee on purpose, look up furikake, Old Bay and compare each ingredient to the risotto that I just mentioned. Yuck.
