It's probably not a great idea to sit down at the computer late at night when I'm "fired up," but here's a quick message I think is important to share.
For the parents reading this, remember holding your new baby in the presence of someone who asked you how things were going? Maybe you decided to give them a real answer instead of the canned "great" response. Maybe you were vulnerable and replied that it was tough, the baby isn't sleeping well, he cries inconsolably during the daytime, you're exhausted. And instead of a hug or a cup of coffee, you got the SUPER HELPFUL retort, "You think newborns are hard!? Wait till he's a teenager."
A few years pass by and instead of a colicky baby, you have a strong-willed, cunning, bottomless-pit-of-energy and fearlessness wrapped up in a sticky, uncombed mess of a three-year-old. You long for the time when you put the child down and he stayed there. You have exchanged your sleepless nights for napless days. It's all too real how much of a relief it is to know your precious angel is finally in bed for the night because you can stop wondering for a few hours if they're in peril from the inability to make wise decisions. The stranger at the store watches as your wrangle your way across the parking lot and comments with a chuckle, "You'll miss this when he's a teenager."
In the blink of an eye after some very long days and nights, you reach the tween years. At nine years old, your child is feeling big emotions and learning how to express them appropriately, albeit not always successfully. Sometimes, they hit so fast you didn't see them coming. He's not a baby anymore, but he's not an adult either. These are more or less the overlooked years, which I guess is why we've given them the name "tweens." You don't get as many overt reminders that the teen years will be harder, but you've been conditioned by so many to be wary of what's coming that it's always echoing as a refrain in the back of your mind. "Just wait till he's a teenager."
Well.
A few years ago, I wrote a post about believing the words that I spoke only to myself about myself. The same principle applies here. On one hand, it doesn't seem beneficial to belittle the present-day struggles of a parent in the trenches by offering them a dismal picture of the future. Additionally, it seems a bit like a self-fulfilling prophecy to warn of the abysmal experience of raising teens. If we expect that, it seems most likely that's how it will go. One must also consider that our children are always listening. If society expects teens to be the worst, why should they behave any differently? Generations ahead of us paint our children with broad strokes - they're lazy, disrespectful, phone-obsessed, unmotivated, sassy, inappropriately-clad. These things might be true of some teens, but not all. Dare I say, these things might also be true of a similar percentage of the older generation's own general population.
To the parents of littles, I offer you this encouragement: Stay the course. Put in the hard work in the early years. You won't be this tired forever. Don't let it slide. Let them learn lessons the hard way now. Expect good things from your children. Pray with and for them. Thank the Lord for sleep and new mercies every morning.
To the parents of teens: Just love them. Talk to them about little stuff and big stuff. Work through politics, faith, social issues - give them the lens through which you would have them view this world. Laugh with them. Pray over them. They're not to be feared. These people you've raised are on the cusp of adulthood, and what better time to nurture your relationship with them then when they're preparing to launch?
To the teens: You're awesome. I don't think people tell you that enough. It's been my joy to laugh and learn alongside two awesome teens (so far). I don't want to be all "I believe the children are our future" but we're counting on you to do the things you're capable of doing. Do hard things. Don't settle. Don't compromise. (And don't listen to anyone who says your generation is a bunch of hooligans. We know better than that. Prove them wrong.)
To my elders: I love you. And I hope some day I remember the words I'm preaching to myself. I know the world seems topsy-turvy, but I also believe the world has always been topsy-turvy. Before you jump to conclusions about someone because of their age, just consider that you might be wrong.
To everyone: The good Lord knows I have a foot-in-mouth occurrence nearly six times daily (plus or minus). I'm simply suggesting that we weigh our words and try not to diminish the struggles of others. It doesn't help to tell someone who is having a hard time that someone else has it worse or that it will inevitably be harder later. Be an ear. Give advice (only) if they ask. Coffee is usually a good idea.
May the words we say be used to build up instead of chip away.
Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it.” – Albus Dumbledore
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