Appreciating your teenager:letting them take the lead

I have the greatest child. I know. I know. Everyone says that—when they’re young! But how many of us can say we have the greatest teenager? It’s not because he studies relentlessly—he doesn’t. (Although he still manages to get awesome grades! Oh, to be envious of one’s own child).It’s not because he listens when I tell him to get off the PS3—he doesn’t. And it’s not because he doesn’t talk back, question my authority, and gripe about having to take out the garbage. He does all of this and more. But, he’s the greatest because after seeing my frustration grow over my computer freezing up every two seconds while trying to watch one of my favourite shows online —Showtime’s Nurse Jackie—he quietly went to his room and downloaded all 12 episodes on to his laptop. I usually don’t watch shows online; but in an attempt save money I cut cable down to its minimum and inadvertently lost the channel the show is on. (If you haven’t seen this half hour comedy/drama, stop whatever you’re doing and rent season 1 & 2 on DVD. Season 3 isn’t out yet; hence the frustrated forty-something female at the computer and basis of this story). Now, all of this was unbeknownst to me at the time; however, I did raise an eyebrow when I went in to say good night to my 6 ‘2’ angel and noticed the white glow of a computer screen and laptop lid ¾ of the way closed. We locked eyes. “Why is that still on?” I asked in my best stern mother voice. “Don’t worry; I’m just downloading some stuff,” he answered in his usual bored teenager voice. I muttered something about questionable downloads. He muttered something about me being ridiculous and not trusting him. Instinct told me to leave it alone; it was late and not worth the hassle. His sigh of relief was audible. We wished each other a good sleep.

It was not until the next night, well after dinner, and well after significant prodding to come and start his homework that he strolled down the stairs saying I’d be sorry for pestering him because he had a surprise for me. His smile was real and warm. A smile that is typically reserved—nowadays at least—for friends or demotivator posters on Facebook. I stifled the urge to ask what it was.“Show me after you’re done.” I smiled broadly. After all, two could play at this game. (I admit it; I was a bit suspicious since most of our recent conversations were about the tragedy and injustice of me not buying him the latest iPhone).With his work finished, we chatted about an upcoming school field trip. Once all the specifics were out of the way (how much spending money I was going to contribute for incidentals), he declared—not told—what he had done for me. I was simply thrilled. So proud of his own thoughtfulness, he flashed his winning smile at me once more before he took the stairs two-by-two to fetch the laptop. I was prepared for him to unlock the screen and hand it to me. This in and of itself would have been impressive since he has not let me touch the thing since I bought it for him over a year ago. But just like the magician’s finale or infomercial there was one more thing to come. “Let’s watch it together,” he said. I hid my surprise, but not my happiness. I hurriedly (just in case he got a text to divert his attention) scooped up my books that were strewn across the couch. We sat side-by side and laughed, shared meaningful nods and marveled at the skill of writing and acting that goes into this show.

One of the goals as a parent is to raise well-adjusted, independent children who will become productive members of society. We also want them to be kind and thoughtful people—just like their parent(s). The truth is most will become productive adults who contribute in whatever meaningful way they choose. As for being kind and thoughtful, I think they already are. It’s just hidden by a longing for independence that’s often so palpable it blurs their ability to be nice to the people who, in their eyes, have the power they desire so desperately.But every so often, the wall is left down; and the child who loves you unconditionally resurfaces. And it is blissful.