Heart in your mouth

So, amidst all the Halloween stuff that is big business here in the States, the Queenager decided to give me even more gray hairs. She drove herself and a friend to another friend's house on Friday night. Eek. First time in the car without a parent.

Such is the carefree nature of youth that she wasn't really bothered about having no idea where she was going. We dont have the fancy navigational stuff in the car, although there is a compass and if you keep going east you hit Lake Michigan, so I suppose you can't really get lost. But she has no sense of direction and didn't know the streets near her friend's house very well. Plus, they're all one way streets, so if you make a wrong turn it's not just a question of going around the block to right youreself. I insisted on printing a map of the immediate vicitinty with big arrows pointing to the road home, much to her chagrin.

Ten minutes before she left with her friend, it started lashing down and of course it was dark. Not great driving conditions, espectially since no one here seems to make any accommodations for inclement weather and other perils of the road. So off they went giggling and laughing about this great adventure, while I stared at the clock in the kitchen and tried not to imagine the police call telling me to meet them at the local emergency room, or Queenager herself tearily explaining that she somehow managed to hit a parked car. I did however, expect her to ring me when she got to her friends - you know, just to calm me down. But no! Having far too good and liberated a time to think about dear old mom. (I did call and she'd made it there in one piece, even managing to park the car in one manoeuvre.)

It's not that I don't trust her or think she's a terrible driver (she's actually quite good), but I remember my first foray on my own after I'd passed my test and it was pretty scary. I realise that parents of driving teens all go through this, but I'm glad the maiden voyage is over - for everyone's peace of mind!


Expat Mum
.

Day 7 - A.D.

The drive back from the therapist was an opening.

My son bubbled over with chatter and deep conversation. He was my little boy again.

Then we spent most of the weekend together. Hey, without friends and laptop I am not such bad company for him.

He sat next to me while he completed college applications and drafted an essay.

Yes, he sat next to me.

He is taking all of his many consequences with grace. He has not complained except to say that he wonders when he is going to stop being surprised by consequences. He asked when some of them might be lifted. I told him that I didn't know -- I had never had a kid before who smoked pot -- this is new for me, too.

Hey, today he laughed at one of my jokes.

Hey, today I joked.

One step at a time.

Meanwhile, I am keeping this boy close to my hip.

I've always said that kids (especially boys, at the risk of sounded sexist - but since I have 4 of each, I may have enough experience to make this judgement) are brilliant when they are in the kitchen with their moms. Right and Wrong seems very clear while standing near the homefire.

As kids get further and further from the kitchen, they get dumber. Yes, they do dumber things.

And the more teenage brains are in in one place, the dumber they get. Brain mass actually atrophies.

Yes, I am getting my sense of humor back.

I recognize him more as my son as time goes on. And I recognize myself a bit more, too.

Thanks for listening to me as I go through this little dip in the raising teenagers journey. I am sure that we are not done yet...but I think I will pause from sharing the day-by-day with you.

Now back to our regular parents-of-teenagers-tongue-in-cheek posts. I'm ready for the laughs.

Day 6 A.D.

Finding out for certain that your son has been smoking pot is not unlike having a houseful of kiddos with swine flu: A parent worries and stresses, plans to prevent, and prepares for the worst, then once it happens, the energy shifts. Now it is time to take action and do all the things that need to be done.

Over the last 6 days there has been very little talking. There has been no yelling, no lecturing. There have been no temper tantrums (by parents or son). Everything has been communicated through actions.

My 17 year old has been following me around the house a bit. He just seems to want to be with me.

This evening he started to talk. He said he was feeling anxious and a little stressed. We actually ended up lying on the floor, facing the ceiling and talking.

He is wondering when some of the consequences will be lifted...he is starting to ask questions: What do the clothes I wear have to do with smoking pot? Why can I not see my friends? Why are you meeting me off the bus? Why can't I ride in the car with friends? He says he has stopped smoking pot now and he wants to return to his B.C. (Before Confirmation of drug use) life. Why do I have to see a therapist if I have already stopped smoking?

Ahhhhh, finally, an opportunity for me to teach him. No lecturing, just answering questions.

So, here are some simple short points I wanted to be sure to make:

1) When a boat hits rough waters on the ocean, the sails are pulled in, the cargo is sure to be tied fast. We hold on tighter until the storm is over and the sails can be opened again. We are in rough waters right now, and we are pulling in. Not because we don't think that we will get through the storm, but rather because we know that if we take these steps we will get through to the other side with less damage. Dad and Mom are the captains. We are in charge.

2) Stopping drug use is easy. Living life off drugs is hard. Our job is to help him to live life now. The therapist offers expertise we don't have. We need the resource. We are doing things now to help him live his life without needing to smoke.

3) The consequences are not punitive -- they are constuctive. What do we need to do to help you get through this? We are not out to get you. We are in this together. We are on your side.

He stayed on his back for over an hour. We talked, I listened. He was quiet. Most of the time. I was quieter. I was just there, beside him.

And I decided that I had to be the one to out-wait him. He had to be the one to get up first. I wanted to symbolize that I was not going to leave him. I wanted him to feel that although we have 8 kids, he is special enough for me to give him this gift of time.

Quiet, solid, still. I need to offer him what he needs. He needs to be willing to reach out and take it.

I think he is getting it.

Day 5 - A.D.

The day we take him for an assessment-

He has not fought any of the consequences of his actions yet. He is resigned to the fact that things will change.

Uh, ye-ah, (can you detect the sarcasm in my writing?) that's what happens when your parents find out that you have been smoking pot...and lying...

How many lies? I cannot even begin to try to figure it all out. Lots of puzzles...

I am only looking forward.

So now I am looking at a whole different kind of letting go - one that I had not planned to experience.

Did you know that when you take a child to a therapist confidentiality sticks and the therapist doesn't have to tell you what your child reveals in therapy? I knew this. My husband is a therapist, and I knew this. Intellectually.

But to have to sit with a therapist, husband, and child in a room and leave the therapist with the son and know that I may not know the outcome of the discussion...

...I just have to trust that this professional will do what is best for my son.

Yup, a whole new kind of letting go.

How come letting go -- this thing that we are supposed to do as good parents -- is so painful?

I know, I know, the joy will come when they truly fly successfully on their own. For the moments they are aloft there will be joy. There is joy. I have seen it.

Thank goodness this is my fourth teenager and I know that the peacefulness will come.

And this is my fourth teenager -- I know that I am not done being a parent yet.

I may never be finished, right, Moannie?

Day 4 - A.D.

A.D. - After Drug use confirmed at our house.

H1N1 is full blown at our house. And this may just be a good thing...

The school superintendent has closed school for 3 days and we are all home together.

Together.

This is just what we need on days 4-7 A.D. -- After drug use confirmed by our 17 year old son.

Did I tell you that this particular child of our 8 has been the easiest? Truly?

His grades started to slip last Spring and we were worried. We started asking lots of questions, but he always had a good answer...and, here's our mistake: we believed him.

He picked his grades up, but still things didn't seem right. The last couple of weeks he wanted to sleep at a friend's house once each weekend. I smelled him when he came home, but never noticed anything. Nuts. I should have tested him right away.

I could torment myself by thinking about all that I could have done differently, all the lies he must have told me, but I have decided that I am not going to do that.

Instead, I am focused on each next right step -- an action plan.

I've shared some of that with you in previous posts. My husband keeps asking me how I'm feeling (remember, we all have H1N1?). When I tell him still sick, I know that is not what he is asking. He wants me to share my feelings...and I tell him "I'm not going there..."

So, for today, it is the next right step.

Today my son is making his room spotless...spotless so that I can look in any drawer, in any corner, and know that he is not hiding anything. We are going back to square one.

Someday I'm going to laugh about this...but for today, it is just the next right step.

Day 5 - Appointment with Alcohol and Drug Counselor for an assessment.

Day 3 - A.D.

As the day starts, I still haven't cried yet. I am focused on the steps I need to take.

Have I mentioned that my husband is an alcohol and drug counselor. Yup. And he didn't think the test would be positive. It was me...the mom...who knew. How did I know?

I just knew.

So on Day 3 I met him off the school bus, and took him to get his hair cut. Short.

When he got in the car he was quiet. We haven't yelled, we haven't argued. He has gone along with everything that I have told him to do.

"You could have told me, Mom. You could have told me that I was going to have a hair cut."

"Hummm, I suppose I could have. I'll tell you this much: things are going to be different. For instance, I am not going to pay for college for a kid who is smoking pot."

C has thick, curly, beautiful hair, that I have always cut myself. He hasn't had it short since he was a truly little boy. Now he is only a little boy in my heart, a 17-year old, 6 foot tall man-child to my eyes.

When he sat in the chair and the hair dresser asked, "how short", I didn't give him a chance to answer.

"Short."

"Really? His hair is so beautiful. Are you sure?"

Her own hair was half blond and half pink. She was only a year or two older than my son. Wait -- is she flirting with my handsome son? I want to tell her to get her hands out of his curls. But I don't.

"Yes. I'm sure."

He looks at me and knows I mean business.

When she was almost done, she asks me what I think. "I think you need to use the clippers. The bangs are too long. It needs to be very clean cut -- I want him to look like ... like...someone that you would not go out with."

I'm flashing back as I hear the clippers turn on. My son was born with a thick head of hair. It looked straight at first until we washed his head while still in the hospital. I ran the fine toothed baby comb through his hair and it curled right up. He has hair like mine. The first sign that he was truly my son.

I remember his first hair cut. I have the lock of hair in his baby book. It was a quick trim, ceremonial almost.

This is the longest hair cut of my life. I send a text to a dear friend while I am waiting --

"My first tears are falling as I watch his curls hit the floor."

Day 2 - A.D.

A.D. - After Drugs confirmed

No bike ride yesterday. Instead we took a walk to make a game plan. He confessed before he peed. My husband was wrong, unfortunately. My husband, the alcohol and drug counselor was wrong. I, the mom, who only had a gut feeling to go on...was unfortunately right.

I'm in shock...but will do the next right thing.

Here is our plan, so far:

Monday:
1. Son will wear new pants to school - not baggy. I took him shopping yesterday for a very quiet shopping trip -- I chose all of his clothes. He tried them on and had no complaints.
2. Son will wear new shirt - not a band T-shirt to school, and no more black sweatshirts.
3. Talked to guidance counselors at his school. Set up for meeting on Wednesday.
4. Son went on his own to talk to his guidance counselor as well.
5. Husband scheduled drug assessment with an alcohol and drug counselor.
6. I left school early to meet C off his bus. (no more rides home with friends)
7. Son is riding with me to take other 3 kids to a doctor's appointment. I am not letting him out of my sight until we get an assessment of how complicated this issue is for him.
8. Oh, and I took his prize possession -- his laptop. No more isolating by watching movies in his room. The big idea of this game plan is to bring him back into the fold -- to improve attachment - remind him about what is important.

Life was so much easier B.C. (Before C screwed up.)