Sailing empty beaches with a dose of sibling warfare

  

Yesterday we were able to check sailing off of an acquaintance’s bucket list for his 50th birthday. It was a hot day in WI. We were asked earlier this month by his wife to surprise him with a sail. In the morning, we were able to sail into town for some lunch and live music. The winds were light, but that meant we didn’t do a lot of heeling which sometimes freaks out the newbies. 

After lunch we sailed to the beach. We spent several hours swimming. The beach that is boat to boat on the weekends was practically deserted. The photo that I took doesn’t do it justice. We had a bit of an issue. I tossed Paul his hat, wine glass, and the bottle of wine. Except he didn’t catch it all. The bottle sunk to the bottom, we saw a few bubbles and then it was gone. Who would’ve guessed? I was thinking of the floating message in the bottle.  Paul did end up stepping on the bottle later so I didn’t get in too much trouble. Lol. 

My friend and I gossiped about our mutual friend Cori. She is the one that got first place last weekend on the half in our age group while I took second. She beat my time by 10 minutes. My friend told me that Cori works out almost 30 hours per week. I thought that my 5 hours were a lot. She works out as much as I work! It just bothered me that she can stay up all night partying and whip me. Did I tell you that she smokes too?? Geez, I shouldn’t be such a crab because she always has been helpful giving me pointers even though I am technically competition. Albeit, not that much. When I heard how much she works out, she can have that first. Someday when I am independently wealthy I will work out more, but not that much! 

Anyway, after having an absolutely gorgeous day sailing, the other couple took us out to eat for their gratitude. They have been wanting to sail for a very long time and almost went for a weekend almost a decade ago. They had everything planned then found out that their hosts wanted to take them for the weekend without clothes. Good thing they didn’t put any money down for that trip!

Paul and I almost slept out on the hook for the first time this week. It was a hot, sunny, wind free evening when we left home. When we got to the marina it was cool, cloudy, and windy. We anchored at the beach in 3 to 4 foot waves and strong winds. Paul was afraid that the anchor would let loose and crash us into shore. That was the end of that idea. Maybe next week…

When we got home last night, I received a call from my son saying that the car wouldn’t start. Angel and I went out to get him last night around 10 PM. After the great day of sailing, it seemed like I was in another world. Back to reality! The car needed towing. On the ride back home, Alex and Angel fought something vicious. Alex got out of the car and started walking the 15 miles home. By the time I straightened things out and we all got home it was after 11:30PM. Seems like there are a lot more fireworks in fights when siblings are teens. And to think I thought I would be able to come home and go to bed after sailing!

Sometimes you just have to take the good with the bad. One thing is for sure…my life is always an adventure!

Drowning, my fears – 911, poison control, and other parenting mishaps

I, myself, have never been afraid of drowning. Maybe I would’ve been if my brother drowned that warm spring day.

It is a topic of conversation that never goes away. Why did my mom let my dad talk her into leaving the 6 year old me in charge of watching my 3 younger brothers alone in the water? Was I always the protector or did I become that way? 

A few weeks ago, my brother told me that he has nightmares of me watching him drown. How can he remember? He just turned two. I remember everything that happened that day. I stood on the dock paralyzed with fear watching my brother gulping water and gasping for air. As he flailed his arms, my 3 year old brother exclaimed excitedly over and over that he was swimming. My autistic 5 year old brother stood in the shallow water flapping his hands oblivious to the surrounding peril. 

I knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t seem to move. My mom came back to check on us and saved my brother. I knew that I failed because I couldn’t protect him.

I never was afraid of drowning. I was afraid of watching others drown.

Fast forward another 6 years to when I was 12. I watched my baby cousin in their swimming pool while her mom was at work. She was sitting in the water on a pool chair. She fell off the chair backwards into the water. I grabbed her leg and pulled her out. I was so happy that I didn’t panic and let her drown. But everyone else seemed so angry. My uncle got scolded from his wife for letting me watch my cousin in the pool. No one seems to remember that I protected her, that I didn’t let her drown.

Fast forward another decade after I had children of my own. We were told as new parents to never leave your baby unattended even for a few seconds in the bathtub. If the phone is ringing in the other room, let it ring. I suppose this is not a problem anymore for the new generation of parents.

Then my kids got older to the age where I didn’t need to sit and watch them bathe. I could go in every few minutes and check on them. One day I checked on Arabella in the bathtub after there was an unusual period of silence. I opened the tub door to find her floating in the water fast asleep. For a brief minute, as I gazed at her motionless body, I was terrified that she drowned. It was the most horrible anxiety ever. I thought that I failed to protect her.

After that happened, I worried that my children would drown. I never liked my kids taking showers when I was gone or asleep. I mean, they could slip on a bar of soap, hit their head, and drown. I don’t let them go swimming alone. I feel the need to keep an eye on them when they are swimming in water.

Even having my 3 kids swim together at the beach in front of me in shallow water wasn’t enough. I looked away for a minute and then there were 2 kids. My youngest wandered off from her siblings and couldn’t be found. It was a large beach with a lot of people. In just a few seconds they got distracted and separated. I ran up and down the beach combing the water until she was found safe. Another terrifying moment. 

So I worry. Worry makes me feel like I have some control, that I will be prepared for the worst that could happen. I worry about the things I can’t control. I feel like I am responsible for everything that happens. I am the protector. Sometimes I even try to control when I need to let go. It leaves me a nervous wreck. 

Within this last month, my daughter became an adult. My son turned 16 and got his driver’s license. Sometimes I can’t even tell anymore if my worries are rational or irrational. I don’t know anymore. 

People that don’t worry tell me not to worry, to worry about things I can control, and that I need to trust God more. Believe me, I wish I was a carefree person. I have an extreme fear of failing to be a protector. When something goes wrong, I blame myself.

I want to relax. I want to let go. 

But sometimes the worry drowns me.

Birthday blues

Tomorrow is my birthday.

What do I want? Something that can’t be bought in a store.

I want a day of peace and tranquility. Just one day that is problem free. I want an escape from my normal routine.

Every day is the same. I start a couple loads of laundry before heading off to work. I deal with problems at work. Then I deal with problems at home. Sometimes simultaneously. After I make supper, clean the kitchen, and fold laundry I finally get to go to bed. I wake up and do it all over again the next day. Although I enjoy working and keeping busy, sometimes adulting can be monotonous and the responsibility burdensome.

I have to work tomorrow. After work, the kids want to do something with me. All I want from them is peace. I don’t want to hear any fighting. Even when we play games, they constantly tease each other by calling names or saying that their siblings suck. They say that it is all in jest, but I don’t find it very funny.

Paul has play practice on my birthday. I should’ve known to lower my expectations when he got the lead part in the summer play. He doesn’t have time for me anymore. I was hoping that he would go up north with me last weekend. When we got together with theater friends last week, he spontaneously offered to take them sailing this past weekend. So he did that instead. Then he asked me to crew for his race last night, but I was replaced by his theater friends. I was okay with that because I only wanted to be a sub. However, he has been sailing with a much younger single woman (not alone) from the theater that thinks he’s hot. I guess I would care more if she was attractive. I was hoping to sail with Paul for almost a week for our anniversary, but we cut it back to a weekend for play practice. I am getting really sick of it already.

I feel left out. I didn’t know all of the inside jokes. I am just an introvert who wants to feel included, but doesn’t want to go. I feel like no one cares about me. The kids really don’t need me much anymore. Sometimes I don’t really care about me either. I almost got hit by a car this morning while I was out riding my bike. The lady almost went through a stop sign. She slammed on her brakes last minute when she saw me. I didn’t get angry like I usually do. I didn’t really care. Hey, I’m still here!

Although my best friend Lisa moved home almost two months ago, we have only seen each other twice. I don’t feel like running with her. I would rather be alone.

When I was a kid, my mom made a very big deal out of my birthday. It was the one day of the year that my life wasn’t all about my autistic brother. I think because of that I have high expectations of how that day should go. Every year it seems harder and harder to get excited. My birthday always signifies the middle of summer. It is going by so quickly this year. I don’t want summer to end and I don’t want to get any older!

Tomorrow I will be 21 (doubled). Gulp! Ready or not, here I come.

Weak end

I sat alone by the lake close to the spot where my brother almost drowned. “Why didn’t you try to save me?” I heard him ask. Because I was only six. He told me that he still has nightmares about drowning. How can that be? He was only two. Sometimes when I am all alone the memories scratch my mind. 

I was hoping that my weekend up north would be peaceful and relaxing. For the first time all summer, I had a weekend without plans. I decided to go up north with my two daughters to prepare for Angel’s graduation party next weekend. I cleaned the cabin and hid the clutter. My parents still have boxes with my middle school books in them. 

Saturday morning I received a call from my son. He said that the car wouldn’t start. As I sit here typing, my car is broke down in the front lawn awaiting repair. There has already been fighting over the use of vehicles since Alex got his license almost 2 weeks ago. This is the start to the busiest week so far this summer. My youngest is in summer school and needs a ride. Angel got asked to babysit and provide transportation for 3 different families this week. Plus she took on Arabella’s pet sitting job while she is in summer school. We need a car! I had to find a ride to work and back. 

I ended up letting Alex drive my car this past weekend while I was gone. He was asked to pick up the mother of his girlfriend’s best friend who was too drunk to drive. Great! He was happy because she bought him food at the drive thru. I don’t even know this woman! It is not too uncommon for new driver’s to be the designated driver. That’s real life in the drinking state. I know people that have their kids pick them up from the bar almost every weekend. I suppose it is better than driving drunk. What kind of life is that for a teen? 

With all the driving around that my kids are doing, I should put an Uber sticker on the car. Maybe they can make enough money to pay for the gas.

The whole rest of the weekend my daughters fought something terrible. It even carried over into today. Arabella brought a friend up north. She made rules for her friend that she was not allowed to talk about how awesome her sister Angel is or spend time with her. The rules didn’t work out too well. Her friend didn’t like being bossed around. Arabella didn’t want to play the games that she wanted to play whereas her sister did. We tried playing badminton, Arabella would only be on the team with her friend. She didn’t want to play by the rules and got mad at her sister when our team was winning. Then she chased her sister around the yard with the racquet. 

They screamed at each other. Arabella accused Angel of stealing her friends. Her friend was crying because she liked both of them and just wanted them to get along. It was absolutely miserable. I just wanted to pull out my hair. I have never seen Arabella so jealous and angry at her sister before. She even told me that she was afraid that the dog she was pet sitting would like Angel more. It is hard because Angel is older and has better people skills. Last weekend her cousins told her that they liked Angel but not her. Then she tries to force them to like her and it doesn’t work. 

I spent the weekend worried about problems. I was irritated by the constant fighting when we could be having a fun time. Then I thought about memories that made me feel sad. 

I wish I could just do the whole weekend over. 

What I really want for Mother’s Day

You have expressed concerns that you do not have money to buy me anything for Mother’s Day, but it is not your gifts that I want. I want something much more difficult than that.

I want peace. 

I am sick of hearing your constant fighting. I don’t like how you tease each other and put each other down. I have had enough. I don’t care if you have to fake that you like each other.

I want hope.

I  want to believe you have a good future. I want you to be organized. I want you to turn in your assignments on time. I want you to enjoy life long learning. I want you to care about your grades. I don’t want you to tell me that you don’t care about school, that you will never need to use the things you are learning in real life. I don’t want you to struggle.

I want respect.

When I tell you to do something, I actually want you to do it. I don’t want you to tell me that you are going to do it later or say that you are not going to do it. I don’t want you to ask me why I am asking you to do something, I just want you to do it.

I want character.

I don’t want to hear you whine about how hard your life is because I asked you to do something that you don’t want to do. You father and I worked very hard to provide you with the ideal childhood, something neither one of us had. Your attitude towards us and our sacrifices for you is very hurtful. I don’t want to always feel angry with you.

I want responsibility. 

I don’t want to tell you repeatedly to wake up in the morning. I want you to get yourself up for school. It makes me feel stressed out when you almost miss the bus almost every morning. I don’t want to hear you complain about having a bedtime, especially since you can’t seem to get yourself out of bed.

I want faith.

I want you to grasp onto something bigger than yourself to help you through the hard times in your life. Your dad and I won’t always be here to protect you from the storms of life.

Maybe this gift will cost more than you can give me at this time. 

Some of you are further down the road than others at giving me this gift. 

Even though I really want the gift of knowing that someday you will be responsible well adjusted adults, this gift is not really for me. It’s for you.  

Monday’s dirty laundry

I started the week off by having to buy a new washing machine. The last couple of weeks it sounded like a gun range in my house every time I threw in a load of laundry. Bang, bang, pop, pop, pop. Then this morning it almost started on fire. Good thing I didn’t throw in a load and leave for work. Stinky smoke billowed out of our utility room. I sure hope this is not an indicator of how the rest of the week will go. Lol. 

Yesterday my mom came over for supper. We spoke about my mother’s childhood years. She said that as the second oldest girl, without older brothers, it was her job to assist her dad in his work. His job was very labor intensive. She spent the summers picking cucumbers to sell to help support her family. She had to help her mother wash clothes, including cloth diapers every day, in a basin with bleach. They did not have a washer or dryer. It sure makes me appreciate my broken washer, or should I say being able to afford to buy a nice new front loader. 

I wish that my mom would write down her stories so I could understand her life more. Just like I hope someday my kids will read my writing and understand me more.
Then we talked about Matt and parenting an autistic child in the late 70’s. She said that she was thinking about writing down everything that happened to help herself heal. At times like this, I am so tempted to tell her about my blog but didn’t. She said that she is helping herself heal by helping others that are struggling. She has more compassion than anyone. She said that she wouldn’t have been able to make it through without her faith in God.

We spoke about the abuse that Matt suffered at the hands of the school. She said that she only saw Matt cry twice in his life. He cried when he spoke of what happened at school. It was absolutely barbaric. The teacher had him sit underneath her desk while she sat at her desk. If Matt touched her, she would kick him. One teacher held him face down on the floor while the other sat on his back. He couldn’t breathe. That is the story he cried about. There was a disabled child that died that year from a teacher that used the same discipline method.

We spoke about my mom’s church friends. I was not aware of this, she said one time when Matt swore in church her friend hit him. Another friend told my mom that they needed to beat it out of him. Oh, my dad did try to beat it out of him. It didn’t work. My mom spoke of when my dad kept hitting Matt over and over trying to beat it out of him. I told her that I remember that day clearly because it was my first childhood memory. I remember the screaming of my dad and Matt. I remember the plunking noise of Matt being knocked back and forth against the cupboards in the kitchen.

My mom said that Matt crawled around on the floor like an animal. He spent a lot of time screaming after he quit talking. 

Later on he became fixated on hurting little girls and I just happened to be the only little girl around. My mom said that she felt terrible that I had to suffer. She spoke of the birth of her first grandchild, my daughter Angel. She said that she was excited and filled with joy the day Angel was born. But her second feeling was horror because she knew what that might mean.

Matt did hurt Angel. What I didn’t tell you was that the two years leading up to the attack, Matt became obsessed with the thought of hurting Angel. He ruminated about it. He asked questions about what it would be like if he pulled her hair, twisted her arm, hit her, or held her head underwater when we were together. My mom and I were worried. I had to take a step back from Matt.

When Matt hurt Angel on her 4th birthday, my mom went in the other room and cried. She was so upset that she didn’t talk and was inconsolable. Luke took Matt home and the whole time it was like he was possessed. He laughed. The voices in his head were whispering over and over out loud. I almost forgot about his maniacal laughter after hurting someone. I could only describe it as evil or demonic.

My mom was at her breaking point. We had to part ways. She quit going to church for the next 3 years. She was angry at God for allowing this to happen. 

We have forgiven Matt for all of the things that happened. But it has been a long road and painful process.

Tomorrow I am going to start another autism series. I have a copy of Matt’s clinical diagnosis report from the early 80’s. I have been holding on to it for the last 20 years. I am going to share it with you along with my feelings about what was written.

Life times 

I had every intention of writing yesterday, but things don’t always go as planned. After today, I am done with my spring cleaning. Now we are just waiting for spring. Usually in the middle of April, spring turns on like a light switch. I plan ahead to have my spring cleaning over and done with before it is nice out. 

It has been cold this past week with more days of snow than without. Some patchy snow remains on the ground with another inch of snow and sleet expected this afternoon. Friday afternoon thick snow flakes fell to the ground. Please don’t tell anyone else in WI that I am saying this, but it was very beautiful. Saturday morning the sun glistened making the snow sparkle like diamonds. But now it is bleak and cloudy. All of the babies cried in church. They seemed to take all of our repressed feelings towards winter and let them spring forth like the wailing of the wind that cries out to us today.

Yesterday, I went to the bowels of Hades into our little crawl space to peer into all of the bins and boxes. I was hoping to find the letters my mom wrote to me the summer that she spent out of state in the hospital with Matt. I haven’t been able to find them anywhere. I’m afraid that I may have accidently thrown them out with all of the high school notes that I found. My old school texting! LOL. You know, the notes that I didn’t want my parents to find and now I wouldn’t want my kids to find. LOL. It makes me sad, but maybe they will turn up somewhere yet.  

Also, I was looking for pictures to display for my daughter’s high school graduation next month. Since more than half of my childrens childhood was before the digital camera era, I have 4 big bins and multiple boxes of unorganized pictures and memorabilia. I started to feel stressed that my display of her life would suck. I hate to be unorganized with this since organization is a strength of mine. So I decided to make a display of pictures from all of the shows my daughter performed in along with a couple baby pictures. Then next winter, instead of working puzzles, I am planning on going through all of the pictures. I am going to work with my mom to take all of the old family pictures and back them up online. After my kids are settled as adults, I am going to gift them with a bin of their most precious childhood moments. 

Yesterday we had my parents and Matt over for supper last minute. We spent several hours watching the old family videos that we had uploaded to a hard drive. It was so strange seeing my brothers, cousins, and myself as young children. Then we watched my kids as young children. It was so strange seeing the progression of time all in one day. Time sure flies. Enjoy every moment while you can.

A sibling’s viewpoint on autism awareness  

April is autism awareness month as quite a few of you are aware of. I have been seeing a lot of arguments lately about autism awareness vs. trying to find a cure. I’ll be honest, it is pissing me off. The comments seem to be all about accepting people the way they are (which is great) vs. changing the way people are. As if by trying to find a cure, we are somehow not accepting people the way they are. That is ridiculous!

I have an analogy for you. Let’s play a little pretend. For a second, let’s pretend that autism is depression. Perhaps you have a sibling with a mild case of depression. His depression made him a great artist. Some days he can paint and create wonderful masterpieces. The next day, he can’t get out of bed. When you take him out to restaurants he cries and that embarrasses you. You don’t want to take the depression away because then he might not be a great artist. But you want everyone to know he is depressed because sometimes he acts in ways that are not socially acceptable.

Now I am going to paint another scenario. Perhaps you have a sibling that is depressed. But your sibling has one suicide attempt after another after another. It tears your whole family apart. 

If you lived out the first scenario, good for you. I’m glad that you were able to go to restaurants and do things that other normal families get to do. I can understand why you might be holding the awareness and acceptance card. But we lived out scenario number two. 

When my mother got her first black eye and bloody lip, it was autism.

When my brother banged his head against the wall over and over, it was autism.

When my brother rocked himself to sleep until he got blood on his sheets, it was autism.

For the scars people could see, it was autism.

For the scars people couldn’t see, it was autism.

When I lost my best friend, it was autism.

When my brother was lead out of school in handcuffs, it was autism.

When family and friends turned away, it was autism.

When my brother was ridiculed and mocked, it was autism.

When he chased me with a knife, it was autism.

When my parents had to find a caregiver to attend my wedding, it was autism.

When my daughter was attacked, it was autism.

Of course, I want a fricken cure!

May God have mercy on all those that suffer from this. I am hoping that someday autism will be a preventable.

You have no idea how terrified I was to have children. Or how nervous I was when my brother Luke had children. Or how much I worry about the possible future family of my brother Mark and his new bride. I don’t know if any of us have the strength to live through that again.

My mom always said that my brother Matt did not do these terrible things, it was autism. 

Autism you suck! Why did you do this to my brother?

 

Just wait…

When my family got together a couple of weeks ago to bowl, I requested the song Stressed Out by Twenty One Pilots. Of course, they never did end up playing the song before we left which seriously caused me to be a little stressed out. LOL. My baby brother Luke gave me some crap about my song selection. He chided me a bit about being stressed out all of the time. He told me that being stressed out was a choice.

This is where I retorted back, “Just wait!” You know that little comment that other people make when they are a little further down the road in life. Like the time that I thought that my toddler wouldn’t throw a temper tantrum in the grocery store over candy like my friend’s child did. Ha, ha just wait your days are coming she said. They sure did. So I am bottling up Luke’s comment to give back to him when he has teenagers. You know, when I am an empty nester and he is in the throes of raising teens. Just wait!

Yes, my life is stressful! I don’t seem to have a lot of control over that right now. I am trying to run a business with my husband. I am raising three teens and trying to be an involved parent. In my spare time I am training for a marathon. Oh, not to mention trying to write a blog everyday. All while maintaining a clean house, staying up on all of the laundry, and trying to keep some shred of sanity.

Luke was a very difficult child. His role as the youngest sibling was to make sure that my autistic brother Matt did not get all of the attention. And he entertained us! When Luke was a little boy, he got angry at my dad and cut the live wire to my dad’s electronics almost electrocuting himself. He also kicked a big hole in the wall. When he was a teenager, he played a round of co-ed strip volleyball in the front yard. But my personal favorite was when he rolled around in the front yard wrestling with my dad for the car keys. My dad had chest pains and spent the evening in the ER. It all ended well. My brother was a wild child. You wouldn’t know that by looking at him now. He is very serious. The running joke is that he became serious and I became wild. But we won’t talk about that now!

My mother did her due diligence to make sure that she prayed that my brother has children just like him. Now he has two daughters. The oldest is serious like he is now. But the youngest is quite the firecracker. She is a wild child. She screams when she doesn’t get her way. She has a very impressive high pitched scream. She tells it like it is without a filter. She is bossy. She loves to be the center of attention. She makes us laugh.  And she just made a list of four boys that she is going to kiss when she is old enough. I just can’t wait.

So someday when I am living the life of leisure and my brother has teenagers I am going to tell him that he is in control of how much stress he is under. Just wait!!

 

Act your age! Wait, how old are you anyway?

It has come to my attention lately that strangers think my children are all the same age.

We recently got dental insurance for the first time. As you can imagine, it is very expensive to pay out of pocket for the dental needs of a family of 5. Especially last year with a crown and wisdom teeth extraction. The change required us to go to a different dentist.

When it came time for us to go in for our first appointment, my daughter Angel who is 17 was taken to the pediatric section in error. They told her to look at the silly animal characters on the wall if she was feeling frightened. They spoke to her in a high pitch sing song voice that you would use with small children. My 12 year old daughter was taken into the adult section.

I understand your confusion, I really do. Even Angel’s boyfriend calls her the 12 year old granny. Since she got her hair cut with bangs, she looks like she is 12. Plus, she doesn’t look like the stereotypical theater person. She never dyed her hair, wears normal (if not boring) clothes, and hardly ever wears makeup. Her boyfriend calls her granny because she is always knitting or crocheting. She is almost an adult but looks like a child. She looks almost exactly like I did as a child and has my body shape. She also has a similar personality to mine.

My son Alex is 15. He looks his age. For the longest time, he was a small and thin boy until finally he grew. Now he towers over me, muscular and lean. His personality is also similar to mine. He looks like his dad and has my body shape.

Arabella is 12, but she looks like an adult. Her personality is very different from mine. She looks like her dad and has his body type. This past Christmas, Arabella became the topic of conversation with my aunt through marriage. She loudly said, “I see that Arabella has joined the club.” “What club??” “Oh, that is right, you wouldn’t know. Did you ever consider breast reduction surgery?” She is 12. “She is going to have back issues.” She is 12!! She looks so much older that other people (myself included) expect her to act like she is an adult. It doesn’t seem right or fair. 

And so it is. Two weeks ago we were all back at the dentist’s office. After I had my fillings worked on, I came out to the waiting area to find Alex and Arabella arguing. I told them that if I heard one more word from them that I would take away their electronics. Alex quit the fight, but Arabella argued on. I told her to hand over her electronics. She come over to me and said, “Yeah, try to make me.” She has over 30 lbs on me. She towered over me while I cowered underneath her. This has made parenting challenging for me. Then Alex stood behind me and demanded she hand over her electronics. This started sibling battle number 2. Even though Alex tried to back me up, I told him that this was between Arabella and I.

I have been parenting for a long time now. I have noticed three stages of struggle with all of my children. The first stage everyone has heard of, the terrible two’s. This is their first struggle for independence. The second stage happened around 5 years, right around the time that they went to school full-time. This is another time of asserting independence. The third stage is during preadolescence, the middle school age.

The middle school years have been fraught with the biggest struggle for independence that I have seen so far, plus add in new hormonal changes. All of my kids were moody, argumentative, easily irritated, knew everything, and would often talk back. At this age, the kids treated us like we were totally stupid. Paul and I would walk around the house with our hands in the air saying “what do I know?” Anything that we would say they would argue against. I think that this is very normal although we were shocked by it with our first child. They are starting to find their identity and make their way in life without us.

The teenage years are wonderful. I am not kidding, there is hope. For the first time, you will be able to reason with your child like an adult. For example, a few months back Angel wanted to go on a weekend skiing trip with her boyfriend. A group of college students were going to rent a lodge for the weekend without parents around. But my daughter was 17. I told her that she wasn’t going to be allowed to go. She was disappointed and sad. Later, after the initial anger wore off, my daughter came up to me and told me that she understood my decision and the reasoning behind it. I was floored. It was so hard to not let her go when she agreed with me. If she would have thrown a big fit and screamed how much she hated me, I sure would have had an easier time saying no.

I think that by the time my youngest child leaves, I’ll finally have this parenting thing figured out. Until then, don’t give my 17 year old daughter a kids menu. And don’t even think about offering my 12 year old a drink from the bar.