Tag: parenting teens

Posted in Holidays, Teens

The Thanksgiving Miracle (a.k.a. the teen who stole Thanksgiving)

Posted on by Kelly (and the Buck)

A few years ago, our Thanksgiving was completely swiped–the likes of the Grinch Who Stole Christmas. Only our villian–or should I say, “our hero,” was an unlikely teenage boy.

Here’s the story:

After we got the turkey in the oven that morning, we went for a family walk.  Our reluctant teenager even joined us.  We circled the pond and tested the ice and watched tiny flakes fall from the sky; then crunched our way home through the as the boys threw snow at each other.

Before leaving for my sister’s for pre-Thanksgiving hors d’oeuvres, we prepared our dinner table, only to discover that we didn’t have eight of anything! Worse of all was the realization that there were only 4 forks left from our silverware collection.

In response to this crisis, the reluctant teenager created a new tradition: setting the table in half blues and half greens (placemats and dishes) with matching silver on one side and a pot-luck assortment on the other.

My husband, a strong Virgo, had to leave the room, but our eight-year old was inspired to contribute an interesting tradition of his own:  filling a piñata that he had scored at the second-hand store the day before.

The day was filled with many, many happy moments and a few “mommy dearest” ones–like when I arrived home from sister’s to find that the turkey was done an hour early… while my teenager moved in slow motion to each desperate request for help.

Our youngest shined in this hour of need, asking eagerly, “Is there anything else I can do?”  At 8, he was naturally helpful, relishing in any moment where he could outshine his big brother.  Plus he had a vested interest in the dinner meal as he had peer arriving to join us, while his brother, dejectedly, did not.

In true adolescent fashion, he was sullen during dinner and dramatically opted out of the post-turkey walk with our guests, plugging himself into his ipod and plopping down on the couch instead.  “At least start putting some dishes in the dishwasher,” I called before leaving.  I dreaded coming back to that mess, but the sun was getting low in the sky, and it was now or never to enjoy what was left of this day.

Our guests laughed at my suggestion that our teen begin the clean up, promising that we would all tackle it together when we returned. We enjoyed a nice long walk up MacArthur Road and arrived back home as the sun dropped behind the mountain.

When we walked in the door, I gasped, as if our house had been robbed. I looked around, confused, bewildered, concerned even.  My teenager was no longer on the couch. He was at the sink. I suspected he jumped up just in time to start loading the dishes when he heard us come up the drive.  And yet something was different…

The wood stove was still there in the middle of the room, but everything else… There was absolutely no evidence of our Thanksgiving Party left behind–not in the living room or the dining room or in the sink. In fact, the kitchen was eerily spotless.  Not a dish or a crumb, not a pot or a pan. Nothing but the smell of turkey and a single glass of chardonnay.

Beguiled and giddy, we put our coats back on and headed down to our neighbors for the pumpkin pie and the piñata… while continuing to marveling over what was sure to be forever called, The Thanksgiving Miracle.

Kelly Salasin

(To read more about the suprises of parenting a teen, click here.)

Posted in Sexuality, Takes a Village, Teens

The Sex Post Boomerang

Posted on by Kelly (and the Buck)

48 hours after I post my piece on Sex and the family, my son comes home from a friend’s house to say,

“Mom are you blogging about sex and me?”

I gulp and buy myself some time with a counter accusation, “Are you reading my blogs?”

He wasn’t, but he was sleeping over his friend’s house, and his friend’s mother was reading my blog, and she asked, “How do you feel about your mom writing about you and sex?”

Geez! Is it me or did this mom cross the line?  🙂 I know my blog is public, and it’s only a matter of time before everything I write gets around town, but I thought a fellow mom would have my back.

Maybe it was his back she had.

“What did you say?” I ask.

“I told her that I don’t read what you write.  I get less upset that way.,” he says.

“The post got a lot of hits,” I tell him, hoping to soften the blow.  (He loves anything to do with numbers.) “I could change your name,” I add, but he just shakes his head and heads up to his room.

Later that day, we enforce a family walk along the Connecticut.  It’s an exquisite fall afternoon, with a bright sun and sweatshirt-friendly air. Within moments of crunching down the river path, my teen starts to ask how far we plan to walk.

“Look at the leaves,” I suggest.  “There are so many shapes and colors.  Smell them!” He’s not interested– until I suggest a competition.  I give everyone three minutes and a square foot of earth.

There’s controversy over who wins because of different varieties of the same species, but in the end he skillfully identifies: beech, ash, three different maples and four different oaks.

I smile without letting him see, realizing that he still has his deep connection to the woods, even if he prefers his I Pod and X Box at this stage of the game.

After this magical moment, the walk degenerates into an acorn chucking fight between the boys.  Within moments, my nine-year old is whining and my husband and I are yelling. I bring up the Sex post again just to shift the dynamic.

“Mom, just stop telling people that I can’t date until I’m 18.  It’s embarrassing,”he says.

“Okay,” I say.  “I’ll tell them that you’ve been able to date since you were six– that you’re even allowed to get married right now if you want.”

“Just don’t say anything, Mom,” he says, without cracking a smile at my great sense of humor.

“What about porn?  Can I still talk about that?”

Surprisingly, he gives me his approval, as he chucks another acorn at his little brother.

“It was just a little egg-corn,” he says, still mispronouncing it the way he did as a little boy.

Families with kids in strollers go by.  Almost everybody on the path has a dog.  “Are we weird because we don’t have a dog?” I ask.

“No, we’re just weird period,” my teen says.

“You’re supposed to think we’re weird,” I say in defense.  “How else will you leave us?”

By the time we get back into our car to cross the river, we’re rosy cheeked and smiling– until we smell something…

My youngest has stepped in dog poop.

Posted in Quotes 2 Inspire
Posted on by Kelly (and the Buck)

“If you share a house with teenagers, you know exactly what it’s like to live under surveillance, to be monitored for the slightest inconsistency of thought, word or deed.”

Katrina Kenison, the gift of an ordinary day