You know what they say about Hindsight…

April 24, 2012

notanotherteenmommy teen mom, Uncategorized , 2 Comments

16 & Pregnant’s Alex (and baby Arabella)

It’s that time again. MTV’s 16 & Pregnant has started a new season, and the blogosphere is brimming with  commentary  about the new line up of featured young mothers. Granted, nearly all reality TV stars are subject to the harsh opinions that are so freely given in cyberspace, But I can’t help but feel like the girls on 16 & Pregnant are held up to a different type of scrutiny. The kind that ruthlessly delves into the most personal aspects of their relationships, sex lives, financial situations, and family dynamics. In case you missed last week’s episode (or you’ve made the understandable decision to skip the show all together), I’ll give you a brief rundown—16 & Pregnant features teens and their families as they deal with the consequences of unintended pregnancies. The stories are often sad but inspiring, and are always ripe with raw emotion. Some claim MTV is glorifying teen pregnancy by airing shows such as this. But avid followers of the show mostly agree that there is nothing glamorous about the girls and their situations (unless of course, you count the six figures that MTV reportedly pays the girls who are chosen to take part of the lucrative spin-off show, Teen Mom. But that’s another story…) Anyhow, I continue to watch the show because I believe it shows teen motherhood for what it is: difficult (at times), potentially alienating, confusing, and life-changing. That’s not to say there are not beautiful, joyful moments to be seen. Life is not easily categorized into good and bad, especially when it comes to bringing a new life into the world. Beautiful things arise out of ugly situations, and vice-versa. However, in last weeks episode, it was hard to see the silver lining in the storm.

 

The show featured Alex, a 17-year-old who is entering her senior year in high school. She and  her boyfriend Matt are expecting a baby girl, Arabella. Although I try really hard to give people the benefit of the doubt, it was terribly difficult to root for Matt. He appeared high and/or hung over during many of the moments when he should have been most present (i.e, the ultrasound), and he quickly lost interest in his newborn daughter once the adrenaline from her birth wore off. Everyone deserves a second chance, and, for Arabella’s sake, I hope Matt proves everyone wrong. Moving right along to Alex’s mother, who was one of the unsupportive mothers I’ve seen since the show began. Early on, she gives Alex an ultimatum: adopt the baby out, or find a new place to live.  Alex, who is still grappling with the prospect of adoption weeks before her due date, eventually moves in with the neighbor of a close friend. It was heartbreaking to watch her struggle through the first night “home” with her newborn, alone, and in a strange house, without a soul to support her. Anyone who has ever gone through the emotional roller-coaster of birth can understand how crucial it is to have a strong support network in place in the days following. Alex had no one. Thankfully her mom  eventually softened her stance and let Alex and Arabella move back home. The tentative adoption agreement that Alex had with her friend’s parents was put aside and Alex opted to keep Arabella. The morning after viewing the show, I opened my laptop to a news feed of criticism for Alex and her decision. Bloggers wondered if “Alex had made the wrong choice”  and many went so far as to say that baby Arabella’s life would have been much better off had Alex only chosen to adopt her out. My response: How do they know?

 

Many comments I read referenced Alex’s financial situation as proof that she was unfit to mother her child. The problem with that stance is that it assumes that a child is automatically better off when raised in a wealthy family. Granted, money can easily provide a child with necessities such as healthcare, food, and shelter, among other things. But does money ensure that a child will be loved & nurtured? At what income level is a person then “fit” to be a parent? Are you comfortable with putting an income threshold on parenting? Just playing devil’s advocate here. 

 

Aside from that, there is also the assumption that Alex’s age, and her boyfriend’s demeanor prove them unfit to be parents. Okay. I understand where people are coming from on this, but let me offer you two very real scenarios:

Scenario 1: Mom, 17 when baby is born. No high school diploma. History of partying a little too much for her own good. Lives with her parents. Unmarried, with no income. Dad, also 17. Works are a nearby fast-food restaurant. Struggles to continue high school but does continue with typical young adult behavior after birth of the baby, causing a rift between him & the  baby ‘s mom. 

Scenario 2: Mom, 32 when baby is born. Graduate degree, stable career, married to college sweetheart. Drives a mini-van. Is a member of a local mother’s group. Active in the church. Dad, 35 when baby is born. College-educated. steadily employed, homeowner, church deacon.

Based on that information, which baby will have the better outcome? Which couple is more stable? Fast forward 14 years…Couple #1 have both matured, re-married and have a great co-parenting relationship. They are active in their community, shuttle their child to and from sports games, church events, and family gatherings. Mom completed a graduate degree, Dad has been steadily employed since age 17 and now has a stable career. Their son is enrolled in college-prep courses, volunteers regularly at various non-profit organizations, and is a well-rounded, well-adjusted teen. Couple #2 divorced three years ago. Dad ran off with a women 12 years his junior and moved out-of-state to start a new family. He (by choice) has limited contact with his children. Mom is now struggling to keep the house, and will likely be forced to let it go soon. Their son is having difficulties in school and is seeing a counselor for issues surrounding the divorce. He has dappled in drugs & alcohol. The younger siblings have suffered as a result of all the family chaos. 

 

Skeptical? Look around you. For every scenario I described there are many, many more like it unfolding. My family story is told in Scenario #1. Unfortunately, the family in Scenario #2 was also based on real events. Could anyone have accurately foretold our family outcomes from the get-go? Not likely. Do our family situations have the potential to drastically change from one year to the next, or even one day to the next? You bet. I’m not smug when it comes to my family’s situation. I count these blessings everyday and try to take little for granted. There is no way to predict the fate of a family. Life is dynamic in nature-ever changing, and subject to so many various influences.

 

Who is to say whether or not Alex made the right decision? Who’s to say I did? The other night, I glanced across the dinner table at my firstborn. He was holding my baby daughter on one hip, and offering his little brother baseball tips as he attempted to help me set the table. The thought flashed through my head–what would this family have been without him? We all would have missed out on so much..Someday I hope Alex has the same clarity when looking back on her decision to keep Arabella. In the meantime, she shouldn’t worry about those who openly second guess her decision to raise her daughter. There is no way on earth to foresee when or where a rainbow will appear once the storm has passed.

It’s a family affair…then again maybe not

March 9, 2012

notanotherteenmommy Uncategorized 1 Comment

Family planning. In a country where 4 out of 10 pregnancies are unintended, one would expect that this would be a hot topic. But lately, my head has been spinning with headlines regarding  birth control rights, increasing rates of out-of-wedlock births, and abortion issues. I get it, this is an election year, but who decided that the theme of the 2012 election would be SEX?! Our economy is seriously hindered,  jobless rates are astonishingly high,  and public education is in crisis…but the eyes of the nation are on the uterus. Yay us.

In Washington there’s a battle raging over  whether it’s a good idea to have exclusively male panels discussing women’s right to get contraceptives under their health insurance. (Ummm hello?….No! Is it a good idea to have  fish discuss optimum methods of safe sunbathing?!)  Last week in Virginia, the Senate narrowly passed a bill that will require women to have an ultrasound procedure 24 hours prior to having an abortion. And  across the nation tongues are waging over a recent study which found that, for women under 30, most births now occur outside of marriage.

In all this uproar over women’s sex lives and the consequences for modern families, Georgetown law school student Sandra Fluke gained public attention for advocating that insurance companies cover birth control. Shock jock Rush Limbaugh responded to Fluke’s testimony by calling her  a “slut” and a “prostitute”, in a move that created an instant media firestorm prompting a curt, but rare, apology from Limbaugh. Almost as disturbing as the name calling, was the misinformation spewed by Limbaugh, who repeatedly suggested that the amount of sex a woman has is related to the amount of birth control she needs to take. Limbaugh’s main concern seems to be the issue of financing someone else’s sex life. King Rush seems to have forgotten that many insurance companies already do just that- in the form of erectile dysfunction drugs such as Viagra. Can we say double standard? The underlying misogyny in these debates is a tad bit unsettling…

It baffles me how the very people who are obsessed with limiting the scope of government, feel morally obligated to insist that government get involved in women’s most personal affairs. Perhaps, several decades ago this conversation would have gone on without a hitch. But in 2012, women are fighting back, as we should. Contrary to Limbaugh’s beliefs, men and women today overwhelmingly view birth control, not as a sign of uninhibited promiscuity, but as a sign of responsibility, & of making smart choices about sexuality and parenthood. A recent CNN/ORC International Poll shows that 81% of Americans – and 77% of Catholics – disagree with the notion that artificial means of birth control is wrong. Birth control is not a topic that pertains only to teenagers, party-animal college girls and divorcees. Married women, women in committed relationships, and older women use birth control too, though one wouldn’t think so based on the nature of the debate. And the fact of the matter is, it’s troubling that we are even discussing the “type” of women who use birth control. As if their age, lifestyle, or marital status has anything to do with their right to use contraceptives. I know what this type of thinking leads to, and it’s not pretty, Next we’ll be discussing who is worthy of parenthood…

That aside, I think it’s important to note that because birth control lowers the total outlay for health services, it’s in the best interest of the insurance company to include it at no extra charge. Women who are able to plan their pregnancies tend to make lifestyle accommodations that ensure their babies the best possible chance of  growth & development. And the pay-off of such planning is huge. Those who use birth control to plan & space their pregnancies have fewer costly pregnancy complications, are less likely to need medically necessary abortions, & have a lower incidence of emergency deliveries, caesareans, and stillbirths, all of which result in improved outcomes for infants.  While the powers that be wring their hands over who is having how much sex and when, can we turn our thoughts to the more pressing issues of our day? Such as supporting families who are financially crippled by the loss of a job, lack of affordable childcare, education options & relationship struggles. I only wish those patriarchal bastards would take their minds out of the bedroom for a second to recognize that life goes on AFTER babies are conceived. I’m convinced children would benefit far more from meaningful policymaking regarding family services & support than discourse over the circumstances and nature of their conception…

Dragon Moms & Guardian Angels

February 28, 2012

notanotherteenmommy Uncategorized Leave a comment

Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body Elizabeth Stone

I had the dream again the other night. This time we were at a large outdoor event. The sun was setting at an ominous rate that is possible only in nightmares, and I was aware that danger- a riot? fight? kidnapping?- was near. I hightail it to the exits,  and find I only have two of my four children with me. My babies have fallen behind. As I peer into the menacing sea of people, I feel a familiar panic building and wake myself up. I say familiar, because I have had this dream before. The circumstances are not always the same, but the overall theme is disturbingly similar. I have lost a child; in water or in a crowd. The dream always ends with my subconcious  revolting at the feeling of grief, and I awake abruptly.  Each and every time, I get out of bed and check on my children. The rhythmic rise & fall of their chests as they slumber is the only sight that immediately cleanses the disturbing images from my mind. These dreams visit me a few times a year, and always catch me off-guard. But since my first was born, they have been vivid enough that  I can never fully relax whenever my children are near a large body of water, or in an unfamiliar crowd. 

The fact that I am sharing this particular fear is a big step toward letting it go. For years, I would not speak of these thoughts, as I am superstitiously wary that my voicing these dreams/thoughts will somehow cause them to materialize. Plus, it does not make for the best playdate material…”So, enough about potty-training…have any of you ladies ever been plagued by the thought that your child could be harmed at any given moment, and your life forever changed?” Yeah. Pretty sure that would have got my children blacklisted from any and all future birthday party invites. So I quietly took in accounts of tragic loss as one tends to let their eyes linger for a moment when passing a car accident on a freeway. You take in as much as you can stomach before glancing away…a mix of morbid curiosity & thankfulness-that it is not you who is experiencing misfortune. 

A few months back, I came across an article that just may be one of the most powerful pieces of writing I’ve ever read. Entitled Notes from a Dragon Mom, it tells the story of a mother who is coping with her son’s terminal illness. He is 18-months-old, and is not expected to live beyond his 3rd birthday. She tells of how most parenting advice is given with the future in mind; school readiness so that your child may succeed in college, healthy eating habits so that they can ward off disease as adults. Parents of terminally ill children do not have the luxury of looking forward to a sunny “someday”, but in a sense, that affords them the ability to fully concentrate on the here and now. The million and one  seemingly insignificant moments that we rush through or sidestep when we are in a hurry, are moments savored by “dragon parents”- brushing a wayward wisp of hair out of your childs eyes, the tenth hug at the end of a long good-bye, letting the lengthy bedtime routine turn into a night of rocking & cuddling because, well, there really is no point to rushing when the place that you are rushing toward is so grim… The line  from this piece that will forever stay with me is this: “parents who, particularly in this country, are expected to be superhuman, to raise children who outpace all their peers, don’t want to see what we see. The long truth about their children, about themselves: that none of it is forever.”

I remember an evening back in 1998 when I met Marc Klass, the founder of KlaasKids Foundation, which provides law enforcement communites with a website to quickly create and distribute missing child flyers, among other services. His daughter, Polly, was all of 12-years old when she was kidnapped from her home in Petaluma, CA & murdered in a crime that gained national attention. When I met him, my oldest son was nearly a year old, and I recall staring at Mr. Klass in awe thinking, “How on earth do you go on…breathing, eating, functioning…after losing your child?” It is both terrifying, and comforting, to think that the human spirit can survive through such an ordeal. It is not a thought I care to ponder for a prolonged amount of time. But I admit, each & every time I meet a parent who has lost a child, I am amazed at their ability to survive…that they did not collapse under the weight of that enormous grief and disappear.

A small framed print hung by the doorway of the room my sister & I shared throughout our childhood. It was an image of two small children huddled together, crossing a rickety bridge. Guarding them, was an angel, with her arms protectively outstretched, and a gentle smile on her lips. I keep that picture in mind when sending my children out into the world each day… as they leave for school, for a bike ride, to a friends house, on a cross-town trip with a relative. Life is fragile and beyond precious. As I write, my children are all soundly asleep in their beds. And for that, I am grateful.

Beauty, Beast, & the Bike Ride

February 8, 2012

notanotherteenmommy Uncategorized 2 Comments

And they lived happily ever after...

My all-time favorite Disney movie is Beauty & the Beast, hands down. I mean, who wouldn’t love a wicked smart brunette who is as brave as she is beautiful, can break into perfectly pitched sonnets at the drop of a hat & has the ability to see past cosmetic imperfections such as a hairy hunchback & gnarly underbite to recognize a true gentleman underneath?(An added perk: that ten story library that Beast gifted Belle. I just might be willing to look past  the blackmail and involuntary imprisonment she endured if it meant inheriting 10,000 leather-bound books in a sunlit castle.) Anyhow, flaws aside, I still think that movie rocks. And so it is with fairy-tales. As girls, we eat them up—the romance, the music, the “happily-ever-afters.” We overlook the problematic sub-plots (such as the fact that Ariel gives up her family AND her voice to get her man) to enjoy the more comforting aspects of the stories—that true love never dies, that fate conquers all, and that once you overcome the initial obstacles, everything else is smooth sailing. *SPOILER ALERT* If you are a young star-struck believer in relationship utopia, you may want to stop reading.
I used to think that relationships were a skill similar to riding a bike. Tricky at first, with some bumps and falls in the beginning, but once the balance and flow was mastered it was easy riding. Then I met reality. My husband and I first started hanging out when I was 18 with an 18-month-old child. Friends at first, we gradually became more and have been together since. He is a wonderful father to all our children, and we basically grew up together: maturing, compromising, and learning along the way. It HAS been like a bike ride, but more like mountain biking. We’ve covered off-road, rough terrain that requiries endurance, strength, and at times, self-reliance. The coasting periods are wonderful, a time for renewal, and a chance to take in the scenery. The uphill paths can take your breath away. I have enough friends in long-term marriages & relationships to know that this is pretty much the norm. Family life is terrific and trying all at the same time. We muddle  together through the monotony of everyday existence: homework battles, chores, finances. But when we collapse at night to relish in the beauties of the day,  we realize it’s pretty beast (as my 15-year-old would say).  I know there is no happily-ever-after looming on the horizon…  there are sure to be days ripe with trials and triumph, and I’m okay with that. But there is a message I want my young ones to take away from this, someday when they spread their wings and fly away from this nest…and that message is this:  If we give up easily when things get ugly, we may never get around to witnessing the amazing transformations that can take place down the road…

Birthdays, Re-Birth, and Other Tales of Redemption

January 27, 2012

notanotherteenmommy erik erikson, identity crisis, parenting, Uncategorized , 2 Comments

The Journey Begins: January 27, 1997.

Tomorrow marks the anniversary of my oldest son’s birth. I have officially been a mother for 15 years now.  Truth is, if you had met me as a young teen,in my pre-parenthood days, there is a good chance you would not have liked me. I was rebellious, but not in a creative, productive way. My rebellion manifested itself in the form of showy mouthiness, disregard for authority, and of course, a tendancy to attend more parties than I did class. I remember being quite smug, thinking that my “me against the world” act would somehow mask the underlying issues that I didn’t want to face. Insecurities, selfishness,  & manipulation were constant themes in those days, and I really think I was on a self-destructive joy ride that had no definitive end until…it all came to a screeching halt. During those early days when I grappled with the daunting thought of bringing another life into my world, a world that was wrought with chaos & uncertainty, I recall a prayer spoken aloud in the wee hours of the morning, “God, send me an angel to tell me what to do!” The answer came instantly: “I already have.” My priorities changed literally overnight, and my old ways were quickly forgotten. This served us well, and though there were missteps and mishaps, I think I truly gave parenting my all. I wish I could say that with each subsequent addition to my family, I became a better person & parent. But that was not always the case. 
For some cultures, including our own, time is described as a highway stretched between past and future, and people travel along it like numbers across a number line. In other cultures, our lives are viewed as being stationary in time. Rather than marching in perfect evolutionary formation to a flawless end existence, the future advances toward us, instead of us toward it. And so it is with my life. I evolve, and regress, and then become inspired to evolve again. There is a Japanese proverb that wisely states, “Fall down seven times, stand up eight.” I assume that I will continue getting tripped up, and rising, until I leave this earth. 
After my first-born, time went on and my world expanded into a predictable circle of family gatherings, rewarding friendships, college, career, and other events. But a few years ago, I felt myself getting restless. I began wondering if my early journey into parenthood caused me to miss opportunities that I might have otherwise  enjoyed. I contemplated the possibilities that might have been. I wondered if it was too late to re-invent myself, as my 30th birthday was looming on the horizon. Developmental theorist Erik Erikson coined the term “identity crisis“, and describes a stage called foreclosure, in which a person has made a life commitment  without attempting identity exploration.  According to Erikson, a person must then undergo an identity crisis (also called moratorium) in order to achieve a genuine sense of self. My identity crisis came at age 30 in the form of -(drumroll please)- a positive pregnancy test. Again.
Prior to that, I had become quite comfortable with the thought of ending our family sentence with the birth of my 3rd son. Then life added one final exclamation mark, highlighted in pink. Enter: my daughter. I had literally JUST met with my OB to discuss more permanent methods of BC, when I found out I was expecting a fourth. To say I was ambivalent is an understatement. My youngest was getting ready to enter school in the upcoming year, and my husband I were becoming accustomed to a renewed  night life and the ability to sleep late (late being 8:00am- max) in the morning. Life felt somewhat spontaneous again. Then she arrived. A beautiful, humbling reminder of why it is crucial that we not become so tightly wrapped up in ourselves that we suffocate. Which is what I was doing by becoming consumed with the grass on the other side of the young parenthood fence. Regret, I learned, is a colossal waste of energy. You cannot build anything useful from it, but if you allow it to, it can tear down a strong foundation. I chose to let it go, and focus on the here and now. Here is the life we are living & now is the time to be grateful for it.
Life  has slowed down again. And it could not have come at a better time. These past two years I have enjoyed so many tender moments getting re-acquainted with the little things. Friday nights at home making forts, Sunday mornings sitting by the bay window with my early birds, watching the sun-rise and giggling over the comics… I want to thank my first-born, and my last-born, and all those born in-between,  for prompting me to reinvent myself, day after day. You little people inspire me, everyday, to evolve into a person who is worthy of being your Mommy. And of all the identities I have known in my 32 years- friend, student, teacher, wife, mentor- It is that of mother that has proved most rewarding, day after day after day…
 

An inscription from my mother, in the journal she gifted me 15 years ago

 

Resolution

January 11, 2012

notanotherteenmommy Uncategorized Leave a comment

Year's end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us. ~Hal Borland

I was a New Year’s Eve baby, born on the night that the world said farewell to the disco age & ushered in the “decade of decadence.” Having a birthday that falls on New Years Eve is quite fun, mainly due to the fact that the entire day is ripe with festivities, excitement, and an overall feeling of renewal & growth. There’s something special about marking a personal milestone as the rest of the world collectively celebrates a new beginning, symbolic as it may be. I’m not one to make yearly resolutions, as I find my days are a series of small goals & milestones, and the ideas for my bigger accomplishments are often hatched not on the cusp of an aging year, but in the wee hours of a sleepless night as I nurse a drowsy baby or usher a sick child back to his bed. Nonetheless I find the word resolution lingering with me in these early weeks of 2012, as if my subconsciousness is trying to nudge me into an action, whatever that may be. Dictionary.com lists several definitions of the word, including: 1) the mental state or quality of being resolved or resolute; firmness of purpose. 2) a resolve or determination: to make a firm resolution to do something.
And looking at this I’m realizing that resolution has been a way of life for me, since the earliest days of my journey in this adventure called motherhood. 16 & pregnant…and oh so naive, as I assumed everyone would have as much faith in my situation as I did. The same month that I first looked upon the dreaded positive sign on the Clear Blue stick, I signed up for summer school at a local high school in an attempt to keep up with my credits. Unfortunately, a horrendous bout of morning sickness (which ultimately left me hospitalized for several days, on IVs and a liquid diet) got in the way of my plans. I completed approximately 2 weeks of the 6 week course, at which point I withdrew from the class and my mother went to the teacher to explain the circumstances. Rather than offering to work with us, or perhaps even lending a word of support, he turned around the next day and informed the class that the reason for my absence was that I was pregnant & would most likely fail to complete high school. (I found this out later from a classmate who was enrolled in the same course. I never confronted the teacher, though I can’t say I haven’t fantasized about going back and slapping him in the face with a degree or two). In the next month, I was snubbed by several guidance counselors who feigned concern when I expressed my desire to go to college, and then ignored my subsequent calls and requests for  information on  alternative education paths. (I ended up completing high school-on time-on independent studies.) I quickly learned that my family would be my main source of support, and that I’d better learn to hold my head high so as to maintain eye-contact with all the people looking down on me…the mental state or quality of being resolved or resolute; firmness of purpose
These encounters continued, including the nurse who tried to talk me out of my decision to go forth with my pregnancy, and the doctor who practically laughed in my face when I presented him with my thoughtfully typed birth plan which included my wish for little intervention & no drugs. “It’s not like you can plan these things” he scoffed. I sat, head bowed and let the tears roll off my very round abdomen…then marched out of his office determined to have the birth I envisioned. And guess what? On January 27, 1997, my son was born…with no medical intervention, and without the use of drugs…a resolve or determination: to make a firm resolution to do something.
I tell you this not to invoke sympathy, or to gain reverence. I tell you this only to point out that our entire lives are a series of resolutions. We have all battled nay-sayers, and faced hurdles that at first appeared insurmountable. We have all cried ourselves to sleep, and then opened our swollen eyes to the light of a new day.  Life is not always fair…it is what it is, but it’s what we do with it that counts. So make your resolutions, and celebrate each goal as you accomplish it. But don’t be so hard on yourself if you fall short, take a little longer than planned, or require helping hands along the way. Sometimes the year ends with a whimper, not a roar…and that’s okay. Re-group, take a deep breath, and gear up for a fierce comeback…

A Father Like That

December 9, 2011

notanotherteenmommy Family life, parenting , , , , 2 Comments

It is a wise father that knows his own child. William Shakespeare

I was at the library the other day, on the hunt for holiday-themed stories to use in my classroom when I re-discovered a picture-book that someone recommended to me years ago. The book is entitled, “A Father Like That”, and it tells the story of a young boy, whose father ”went away before he was born.” In it, the boy tells his mother of the ideal father he imagines may show up someday. The father he dreams of would help him with his homework, play games with him,  and read to him.  There is no resolution at the end, only a mother who– after patiently listening to her son’s narrative–gently tells her boy that he can “be a father like that” when he grows up, even if his dad never comes back to play the role. I purchased a copy of the book to keep in my classroom, as it is common for students to have fathers who are absent from their lives, be it by choice, incarceration, mental illness, addiction, or death. 
I have a student that I’ll call Isaiah, whose boisterous personality seems impossible to contain in one little four-year-old body. He exudes charisma, and his smile is nothing short of infectious. His older sister was in my class last year, and I know the family well. Last spring, I noticed that dad had stopped coming by the school, and after several uncharacteristic meltdowns from Isaiah’s sister I found out why. In between sobs, she reported that their daddy had gone “out of town”.  Having worked closely with families for the past decade, I’ve been around long enough to know that “out of town” is usually the reason given to explain the absence of a parent who has been incarcerated or jailed. Isaiah’s mom never offered any details, and I didn’t ask, though its now been over nine months and dad is still out of town, with no indication of returning. Recently, I noticed that Isaiah had taken a particular interest in the fathers of other students as they came into the classroom during drop-off or pick-up time. He’d engage them with a grin, a high-five, or a friendly wave. One day, as he watched a classmate leave with her father, he turned to me and said nonchalantly, “You know, Teacher, my dad is coming to pick me up from school tomorrow!.” I smiled and hugged him, wondering if indeed dad would show up. Well, tomorrow came and went, and still no sign of Isaiah’s daddy. Every now and then, out of the blue, he’ll bring it up—”My daddy IS coming Teacher. He’s coming soon. To pick me up. And we’re going to go to the park, and he is taking me to get some dinner somewhere…” He’ll longingly glance toward the window, as if his dad might just materialize, swoop him up on his shoulders and carry him off to the outing that Isaiah has been dreaming of.
Father Gregory Boyle,  a Jesuit priest in Los Angeles who spends his life working with members of various street gangs, talks about the impact of father loss in his book, Tattoos on the Heart. In one section, Boyle describes what he has come to understand as the hole each gang member carries in his or her heart, a hole the shape of the child’s father. I have seen evidence of this hole both in the children I work with, and in my own family. My father grew up without his dad, after his mom immigrated to the U.S. in search of opportunity for her children. My husband does not know his father, and my eldest son’s paternal grandfather was buried after years of estrangement from his family, including his children. Every now and then the subject of their absence is touched upon, and it never fails to surprise me how the undercurrent of resentment & sadness is still present, even after all these years. The silver lining is that all of the men in my life went on to become dedicated, loving fathers to their own children, despite the lack of a father-figure in their household.
And that brings me back to Isaiah. I found him today, underneath our classroom Christmas tree. He was holding a baby doll, and tenderly trying to wrap a small blanket around its tiny shoulders. When he noticed that I was watching him, he flashed that beautiful smile of his and said, “Shhhh, Teacher. She’s almost asleep, and we don’t want her to be awake when Santa comes, or he can’t leave the presents.” It’s funny how hope takes form…in the shape of a small child shushing a baby doll, in the gesture of a fatherless young man who protectively  cradles his newborn for the very first time, in the resilience of the thousands of children whose roots take hold despite the missing branch of their family tree.
Here’s to Isaiah, and his feisty little spirit. May he someday be a “father like that.” And may the future bring him a wealth of community to support and encourage him along the way…

Parenteen Magazine (I could be on to something here..)

November 15, 2011

notanotherteenmommy Family life, parenting Leave a comment

Last Sunday night I found myself at the grocery store at 10 o’clock p.m., with a basketful of snacks and lunch items that my teen had requested for the upcoming week. As I stood in line with all the other parents who were making a last minute dash to stock up weekday food for their growing families, I couldn’t help but glance longingly at the innocent stack of juice boxes, goldfish crackers, grapes, and peanut butter that a toddler-toting mother was unloading at the check-out stand. I sheepishly grinned as she eyed my pile of organic frozen pizzas, Odwalla protein-smoothie jugs, super-sized trail mix bags, & free-range steaks…”Teenagers. They’ll eat you out of house and home.” I murmured. She flashed a sympathetic smile and turned her attention back to her purchase. I picked up a parenting magazine and begin to thumb through it, eager to distract myself from the impending transaction that was sure to set me back at least $100. Flipping through the glossy pages, I realized that not one single article was written for parents of teenagers. I reached for another magazine and found the same thing. They all cover issues from pre-conception to the tween years, but stop abruptly at the ages and stages of school-age children. As if our children leave elementary school and arrive neatly and safely into adulthood. If only it were that simple. That got me thinking: Why aren’t there magazines marketed to parents of teenagers? What would a “Parenteen” magazine look like, anyhow?
 Perhaps articles on recipes for picky teenage eaters would be difficult to write, as 15-years olds are unlikely to be motivated to eat a “Kale-boat” just because it’s shaped like a ship and given a cutesy name. Most parenting magazines have a section entitled “Out of the Mouths of Babes,” or some variation of  that, where parents can recount the endearing/humourous things that their children say. I can only imagine what that section would be called in a ‘Parenting for Teens’ magazine. Might I suggest: “OMG, My Teen Spoke to ME,” which would be full of one-syllable quotes such as, “Fine,” “Good,”, or  ”WHAT???” How about a “Text & Chat Acronym Translator” to help befuddled parents keep abreast on the ever-changing language spoken by technology laden teens? Other possible ideas would be highlights such as:
 - “Help Them Grow”-  pointers and insights related to your increasingly autonomous offspring, and how you can attempt to guide them into adulthood even as they struggle to differentiate themselves from you in every way possible
-”Can You Help?”- suggestions from readers about how to handle a common problem, such as “bad-influence” friends, bullying issues, balancing homework/sports/work/social life, and how to afford college in this jacked-up economy
- Suggestions to keep your child busy in the house (other than TV & video games)-  This used to be my favorite part of parenting magazines, as I loved replicating the games, crafts and other engaging activities with my little-ones. Problem with teens is, you can’t just hand them a glob of scented play-dough and expect them to stay out of trouble. 
- An Emergency Guide pull-out for dealing with various situations like: What to do when your child comes to you and tells you they are sexually active (Do you completely freak-out and ground them for life? Or do you acknowledge their developing sexuality in a way that neither shames nor encourages them. Trust me, there is no easy answer for this one.) Or perhaps, How do I help my child cope with their first broken heart?
- “Teen Style & Fashion Guide”- A section that will showcase all the clothes you WISH your child would wear, and paper dolls that you can dress in lieu of buying the actual outfits, since your teen could really care less what your style preference for them might be.
 Okay, so maybe a parenting magazine for teens would not be an easy sell. Living with a teenager is not exactly cute or endearing. The adolescent years can be trying for parents, as we seek to adjust to the fact that not every ouchie can be fixed with a band-aide, and our hand may not be the first our child reaches for when they are in need of comfort. Our little people are becoming adults, and we are expected to walk beside them—-but not too close—every step of the way as they navigate  through a journey that is sure to have some bumps along the way.
As I watch toddler-toting mother walk out of the store with her bag of goldfish and fruit snacks, I feel a twinge of nostalgia for the simpler days when I could carry my boy with me everywhere— safe, under my watchful eye. And man, that nostalgia really hit home when my grocery total came up to a whopping $115.23. What I would give for the days when that kid could survive on yogurt, wheat thins, and carrot sticks…
 
 
 

Fairy Godmothers

October 5, 2011

notanotherteenmommy co-parenting, Family life, parenting, teen mom, Uncategorized 3 Comments

Co-Mommies

Parenthood is tough, but I’m convinced that young parenthood comes with a slew of unique trials that older parents are exempt from. In addition to the usual teething woes and toddler tantrums, teen & 20-something parents are often juggling continuing education, budding careers, and the oh-so-common identity/soul searching that comes with the territory of early adulthood. For young parents true friends are hard to come by. Your “typically developing” peers are living the dorm life, and enjoying the new-found freedoms of  the 21 & over social scene, and can’t relate to you when your main source of excitement is an uninterrupted nights sleep and a toddler who has been pull-up free for a week with no accidents. What’s rougher than young parenthood? Try being a young STEP parent…
When my oldest son’s father met his (now) wife, he was 23 and she was 21. “Baby Dad” and I had already been separated for  five years, and me & my (now) husband had been together for several years and had had our first son by this time. (I was 22). I knew her through work…she and I were both employed at a private school in the infant/toddler room. We were friends, and worked well together in the fast-paced, often stressful environment of the daycare center. For years they dated, and we cautiously maintained a cordial relationship when it came to negotiating the schedule and needs of our shared son. It’s not that I didn’t like her, it’s just that it’s difficult to sort through the feelings of ambiguity, jealousy, protectiveness, and role-assertiveness that come with co-parenting- especially when you’re just coming of age yourself. Thinking back, I think there were things about their relationship that irked me-particularly that they had the freedom to travel up & down the state, stay out late, and otherwise enjoy the benefits of young adulthood that I- as custodial parent- could not. They were not wrong in doing so, it’s just that I secretly envied the spontaneity of that lifestyle. Other than that, I had few complaints. She was accommodating,  even overly so at times, so I rarely felt like my role as  the mother was being encroached upon.
Fast forward ten years. My husband and “Baby Dad” are buddies in every sense of the word. They golf together, BBQ together, and during football season, have regular Sunday “man-cave” parties to talk fantasy leagues and stats. In addition, his wife (my son’s step-mom) and I are best of friends, in every way that counts. Often, I think of her randomly throughout the day, only to find she has sent a  text at that exact moment. We share a love of history, a passion for social justice, an obsession with anything Pride & Prejudice—and, in another interesting twist of fate, we also happen to share the same first name. She attends sports games, doctor’s appointments, and back-to school nights with me (you should see the looks of confusion we get when we try to explain our relationship, and shared child…but hey, this is the 21st century, get over it people!) This last year, she was also there for the birth of my fourth child. Her daughter,  my son’s little curly-haired, brown-eyed beauty of a sister- is MY god-daughter, and I adore that little girl to pieces. 
I am lucky…no, actually, I am BLESSED to have a step-mother for my son who is as attentive and selfless in regards to his needs, as I am. She picks up where I leave off, and fills in where I cannot. I can’t imagine what parenting would be like without her as my co-mommy…and I have no doubt my son will someday come to realize just how special his family situation is. Our co-parenting utopia did not happen overnight. It took effort, maturity, and compromise on all ends. But the fruits of our labors are priceless. I often listen to other parents’ complain about custody battles, child support issues, and Baby Daddy drama with sympathy. I cannot relate, nor would I ever want to. My son gets to enjoy a family life free of parental tug-of-war, mental, or otherwise. I could not ask for anything more. 
I’m a fan of fairy tales, but I must say, I do not like the bad rap that step-mothers have gotten. So from this day forward, I crown my son’s step mother ‘Fairy Godmother’…because, according to Wikipedia, a fairy godmother is a fairy with “magical powers who acts as a mentor or parent to someone…” and that’s nothing short of a fitting description for my son’s other mother. She magically sailed through young step-parenthood with the grace & maturity of an old soul. And that, my friends, is the stuff that happily ever-afters are made of. 
Fairy Godmother in the making…

Your Brother’s Keeper

September 22, 2011

notanotherteenmommy Uncategorized Leave a comment

If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.  ~Mother Teresa

My middle son, and I 
Today is the International Day of Peace. First declared in 1981, the United Nations resolved to observe this day, September 21, every year for the purpose of fostering peace throughout the world. I took my children to the state capitol this evening to participate in an event honoring the day, which included music, dancing, & speeches among other things. It was hot, the baby was tired, and my youngest boys were more interested in digging for worms & eating the complimentary snacks, than focusing on the event itself. This year’s gathering was focused on the youth, which is wonderful , as I think it’s crucial to empower the up-and-coming generation if we truly want to foster any kind of real change in the world. I was hoping the younger nature of the crowd would draw my children’s interest, but after a long day at school, the last thing they wanted to do was listen to dialogue about international relations. I knew it was time to go when my teen starting throwing raisins at the baby, who was busy trying to stuff wood chips in her mouth. As I rounded up the other two (who had now moved on to a game of “kick the stale loaf of bread around the capitol lawn”), I felt pessimism overshadowing my otherwise sunny mood.
What is peace anyway? In this age of social-networking, Skype,  & text, I marvel at how disconnected we are. How often have you walked into a room and seen a group of people together, each separately engrossed in their own electronic communication devices. Be it texting, typing,  or swiping…it seems like we are all so busy staying connected, we forget to acknowledge the here & now. Can peace be fostered in an age where people are more comfortable hiding behind screens, than reaching out to one another in real-life? There’s a saying that goes, “You cannot shake hands with a clenched fist.” Good point. Nor can your extend your hand if it’s grasping an iPad. I know technology is not going away, so I worry quite a bit about how I can encourage my children to make meaningful connections in this wireless age.
Several years ago, on my way to my youngest son’s daycare, I came upon a large group of visibly agitated high school students who were loitering in the parking lot near the campus. The street was busy, as there were parents parked all along the road waiting to pick up their teens—and students on foot were homeward bound. As I waited for the light to turn green, the swarm of loitering teenagers parted for a moment to reveal two boys in the center of the group, tossing their backpacks to the ground and exchanging heated threats.  I watched helplessly and the bigger of the two took a swing at the other, knocking  the smaller boy off-balance, long enough for two others to leap in and began fighting as well. The kid was getting jumped. I anxiously glanced around, hoping someone would step in, but everyone just stared, some even looked away-perhaps too uncomfortable to watch what was clearly an unfair fight. Two thoughts raced through my head; 1) That boy is somebody’s son, and 2) If it were my son getting jumped, I would want someone to intervene.
The light turned green, but instead of going straight, I flipped a U and drove straight into the parking lot, where the bloodied boy was now on the ground getting stomped on. Honking my horn, I threw the car into park and jumped out with cell phone in hand. For a moment, the entire crowd of kids turned to look at me, but my adrenaline was in full swing and I screamed for the kids to get off the injured boy, “The cops are on their way!” I yelled. At first mention of the police, the group began to break up, giving the battered kid a chance to get up and re-join his friends, who immediately ushered him into a nearby car and drove away. The other students dispersed as quickly as they had gathered, and within minutes the parking lot was quiet. I stood there for a moment, before getting back in my car. Perhaps it could have been worse. Someone may have had a gun, I could have been hurt….but the fact of the matter is, I would not have been okay just driving away from that scene…
Ambrose Redmoon once said, “Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear.” I am not a confrontational person, nor do I like conflict. But If I see a situation in which a person’s rights, safety, or well-being is being violated, I will not hesitate to confront it in whatever way I can. When my boys are at each others throat, I always remind them that they are their brother’s keeper. As they transition from my home out into the larger world around them, I can only hope that they will remember to respect& honor their brothers and sisters throughout our community. Peace thrives when we remember that, differences aside, we belong to each other. Each & every one of us. 

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