Chapter Four
Building a Strong Relationship
More often than not, it is very possible to develop a good relationship with your teenage child. Teens are fun, lively, smart—and even, at times, affectionate. There are, however, three main impediments to having a truly harmonious relationship with them. One is that you cannot have a good relationship with your teenager all of the time. There will always be those moments when you are either saying “no” or are making unwelcome demands on them. A harmonious relationship under those circumstances would be totally weird:
“No, Cody, I am not going to give you forty-two dollars.”
“That’s okay, no harm in asking. Dad, you’re still the greatest. Did I tell you the joke about the three pregnant monkeys?”
“I hope it’s not like the one about the three pregnant ostriches.”
“Lisa, I need you to interrupt your TV show. Rufus just threw up on the rug again and I need you to clean it up right away so the room doesn’t get too smelly.”
“Sure, Mom. That dumb dog can’t keep his food down. But we’re a team in this house and I need to pitch in. Right, Mom?”
“That’s my girl.”
Were it only so.
The second main impediment to a truly harmonious relationship is the aforementioned teenage allergy to parents whereby teens find everything about their parents aggravating.
“I find everything about my parents aggravating.”
This allergy makes them not want to be wherever their parents are.
“I want to be wherever my parents aren’t.”
One last impediment to having a good relationship with your teen is that you are human and this is your child. As a result, you will not always act in the most rational, designed-to-have-the-best-possible-effect-on-your-relationship manner.
“I have had it! Had it! You are just too much. Too much!”
Because you are human and this is your child, there are going to be days where you are just not up for it, but you have to be anyway because your child is still there.
“This is it! I mean it this time! Do you hear me? This really is it!”
Also, because this is your child, your feelings are far closer to the surface and you have far less self-control than when you are out in the world or dealing with nonfamily members.
“Over the top! Too much! Way too much!”
Not only do you want your relationship with your teenager to be pleasant, but you also want it to be supportive of them during what is almost certainly a very stressful time in their lives. You want it to be positive enough to serve as the basis for a good relationship with them when they’re adults too. That is, you don’t want your relationship with them during their teenage years to screw up your relationship with them later on.
So what can you do as a parent during their teenage years that will ensure that your relationship with them as adults will be as good as it can possibly be? What follows are some dos and don’ts that should help you build as strong and rewarding a relationship with your teen as you can.
The Business Parent vs. the Nurturing Parent
Interactions between you and your teenager fall into two very different categories, where you are playing two very different roles. One role might best be described as “the Business Parent.” The Business Parent makes demands on them and does not agree to do everything they want. The other role is for all of those times when you are not being a Business Parent. It might be called “the Nurturing Parent.” Much of this book is devoted to making the Business Parent role as effective, smooth, and efficient as possible so that it won’t dominate the time you spend with your teen. If you can reduce the time that you have to spend being the Business Parent, it leaves more time for nurturing. But I would add one more important point to this discussion of roles: the Business Parent and the Nurturing Parent do NOT mix.
“No, my darling daughter, I’m not going to give you a lift to Valerie’s. Mommy just doesn’t feel like driving her perfect little treasure forty minutes back and forth to Valerie’s only to pick her up again later. But, don’t forget, Mommy loves you to pieces. Let’s see that big smile.”
No, the Nurturing Parent and the Business Parent do not go well together. There is a time for business and there is a time for nurturing. But the good news is that there are a lot of times when you are with your teenager and you are not in your Business Parent role. In other words, there are lots of times when you and your teen can simply relax and enjoy each other’s company. The problem, of course, is that you may be ready to enjoy your teenager, you may be in the mood to have a nice time with them, but they may be thinking otherwise.
“Excuse me, why would I want to spend time in the company of the one person in the world, more than any other, whom I don’t want to spend time with?”
Being with Teens When They Don’t Want to Be with You
Let me describe a parental attitude you can assume to help solve the conundrum we all face when we spend time with our teens: when we want to be with them, but their allergy to us has flared up. Adopting this attitude can really make a significant difference—for the better—in what transpires between you and your teenager every day. It is a way to cut through the grimness that can suck the joy out of parenting a teenager. The gist of it is that they may be allergic to you, but you don’t have to be allergic to them.
Billy Ray’s father is in the kitchen preparing breakfast. He is in a good mood. Enter his beloved son.
“What’s for breakfast?”
“French toast.”
“But I hate French toast.”
“I thought you liked it.”
“Well, I don’t. I hate it.”
“When did you start hating French toast?”
“I don’t know. I’ve always hated it. You just don’t pay attention.”
“Well, that’s what’s for breakfast. If you want something else, you have two perfectly good hands and know where the food is.”
“There’s never anything I like in this stupid house.”
“Nothing is ever good enough for you.”
“Nothing is ever good enough because everything in this house sucks.”
“Do you know what I should do, Billy Ray? I should make a videotape of a day at home with you. I think I’d call it ‘Twenty-four Hours with My Crabby Teen.’ Then you’d see how unpleasant you really are to live with.”
“No, then you’d see how everything in this house sucks.”
It’s a problem. You may want to have a good time with your teen, a pleasant family breakfast, but they may not be cooperating.
“Why would I want to have a good time with my dad? I don’t like being with him. And besides, everything he says is dumb and irritating.”
So where does that leave you? Either you’re playing bad-guy Business Parent, in which case they don’t like you, or they’re in their surly, allergic-to-you role, in which case they don’t like you. So when do you get to enjoy each other?
“How about never, which would be fine with me.”
Like I said, it’s a problem. But take heart—there is a solution.
The Mood-Altering Power of Competing Melodies
I’m not exactly sure when it started or where it came from, but when my kids, Nick and Margaret, were teenagers I developed what turned out to be a particularly useful attitude toward their occasional teenage grumpiness. Since I loved them a lot and I really did enjoy being with them most of the time, I decided I would be damned if I let their grumpiness dominate interactions between us. If they were going to be grumpy, that did not mean that I had to be grumpy in response—which is how most parents innately react to their own teens’ sullen behavior. I was determined not to let their grumpy tone overwhelm my upbeat mood.
What follows is what I did. I know that I actually did this, because I remember having a name for my antigrumpy behavior. I thought of it as “competing melodies.” If my kids were going to be crabby, I would not respond in sync with their crabbiness. I wanted my good mood to win out. I was going to fight to have it my way.
When a kid says, “I hate French toast,” it’s natural for a parent to change their tune and say something more in line with their kid’s crabby comment such as:
“Well, that’s what’s for breakfast. If you don’t like it you don’t have to eat it.”
Or:
“Why do you always have to be so negative?”
Or, even the sarcastic:
“Well, look who’s here. It’s Mr. Cheerful.”
Which does not work, by the way, because kids hear it as a put-down. Which it is.
All of that inevitably leads to:
“Screw you, Dad!”
But if you employ my competing-melodies technique the exchange is more likely to go something like this:
“What’s for breakfast?”
“French toast.”
“I hate French toast.”
Instead of my responding to their negative tone with more of the same, I’d respond with a very different, opposing melody—one that is friendly and upbeat.
“Well, I love French toast. In fact, I’m going to sing the French toast song:
“I love French toast, don’t you?
I love French toast, don’t you?
I love French toast in the morning.
Oh, please, please, give me two.”
And despite their best efforts,
“Dad! Please! I’m so not in the mood for this!”
I would refuse to veer from my upbeat melody. In the end, more often than not, my way would win out.
“Dad, that is so dopey. I can’t believe you sang a French toast song. I have the dopiest dad in the world.”
“I know.”
But now the comments I elicited from them were not angry; they were good-humored.
I have no idea whether the above sequence actually took place; the story may be apocryphal. But I do know that what I describe above was definitely characteristic of the spirit of competing melodies, which I would often use in response to my teenage children’s crabbiness. If not the above, there are other examples that are similar and just as ridiculous.
There is a strong argument for not meeting teenage negativity with corresponding negativity. Not only does negativity almost never work, but it also feeds the depressing cycle that, all too often, occurs between parent and grumpy teenager. I like my way better. So did my kids.
Here are some more examples:
“How was school today, dear?”
“Boring and dumb as always. Why do I have to go?”
A response in harmony with the above might be:
“Because it’s the law. And if you paid better attention in class and kept up with your work, you’d like it more.”
But that would almost certainly result in something like:
“I do keep up with my schoolwork! But you don’t understand how boring and dumb it really is! I want to be homeschooled.”
Or perhaps:
“You have no idea how lucky you are to be able to go to a school like yours and to have the opportunities that you have.”
“No, you have no idea what it’s like having to go every day to a prison, where you don’t learn anything that you are ever going to use later on in your life!”
Let’s now look at the same scenarios using my technique:
“How was school today, dear?”
“Boring and dumb as always. Why do I have to go?”
Not picking up on their negativity but instead plowing ahead with my good mood, I would then say:
“Well, my day was great. I had a really nice talk with your aunt. She’s so hard to catch, but we had a good chat.”
It doesn’t always have to be funny—just upbeat.
Another example:
“Why can’t we get new chairs? I hate these chairs.”
An in-sync response:
“There’s nothing wrong with the chairs. Besides, as you know, we’re not made of money and can’t always be getting new furniture.”
A better response—one that is not apologetic, not defensive, nor offended:
“Well, I love them. They’re my favorite furniture in the house. I was thinking of getting more of them. Look at the way their finish catches the light from the window. Don’t you just love that?”
Which, more likely than not, might result in something like:
“Dad, you are so weird.” But now, he’s responding with friendly teasing—he’s no longer hostile.
Again, it doesn’t have to be funny, just upbeat. For example:
“I’m sorry you don’t like the chairs. I like them a lot. I think they’re nice.”
It isn’t always possible to use this strategy. If you’re just not in an upbeat mood then the best thing is to play it straight—but not critical or challenging.
“I’m sorry you don’t like the chairs.”
“I don’t. We should get new ones.”
But here you would want to say no more.
Crabbiness in response to their crabbiness is just not the way to go. It is far better—when you’re in the mood— to counter their unpleasantness with happy responses. To do so results in a far more pleasant home.
The Cure for Your Teen’s Allergy to You
As I have said before, the vast majority of kids contract a temporary allergy to their parents once they hit their adolescence. This is part of their normal psychological development. The result is very much like a force field pushing you away. Hence, one of the most frequently asked questions is: To what extent should parents respect their kids’ need to push them away, their need to establish their own sense of independence?
I think the answer is that you respect it to some degree, but not completely. A good example involves hugs.
I am a strong believer in giving one’s teenage children hugs. They hate it. But, at the same time, they like it very much. The hugs should be real hugs, not delicate little polite hugs. And they should also be brief.
Renaldo’s father gives his son a big hug.
“Now, wasn’t that nice?”
“No.”
“I know you liked it.”
“I didn’t.”
The reality is that Renaldo did not exactly enjoy the hug.
“That’s what I said.”
But deep down he did.
“No, I didn’t.”
Deep down, he very much—though he may not admit it—liked the idea of the hug.
What’s that supposed to mean?
The hug says—more clearly than any verbal statement:
My dad loves me. Despite everything, my dad loves me.
This is a big deal. I’ll say it again: teenagers hate hugs. But, at the same time, they like them very much. They may not actually like the hug itself, but they very much like the message.
I don’t know why my dad aggravates me so much. Just having him near me makes my skin crawl and everything he says is so dopey, so totally unnecessary. Every word out of his mouth is so aggravating.
But Dad still loves me. I know I can be pretty nasty to him sometimes, but he loves me anyway. He’s still there—the parent who used to love me to pieces, and in whose eyes I always knew I was special. He still loves me—despite all the stuff that goes on.
A hug shows your teen that, for all the negativity that they dish out daily, you are able to rise above it. Your love connection to them is so solid that it transcends everything else.
You’re wrong. You don’t know what’s going on inside of me. I don’t like the hug.
But he does.
Warning: don’t be too disturbed if your teen grows rigid under the hug. It’s natural. Which is also why the hug should not last very long.
The Effects of a Helpful Attitude
It’s not fun to have someone you love be allergic to you. It can hurt your feelings. Fortunately, there is a perspective that you can adopt to make it far easier to sustain the upbeat melody that I describe here.
Many parents run into trouble from the start because they make an understandable, but incorrect, assumption. Let me describe the mistake.
Jonathan’s mother says to her son:
“Jonathan, I just want you to tell me one thing and then I won’t bother you anymore. Just answer me this one question: Why do you hate me so much? What is it about me that you can’t stand? What is it about me that makes being in the room with me such a torture for you? What is it about me that is so terrible? I just want to know because, if you tell me, I will change.”
“It’s you. Everything about you.”
“But tell me what exactly. I’ll change anything. I just don’t want you to hate me so much.”
Jonathan’s mother doesn’t get it: Jonathan’s problem with her is not something that she can change. Jonathan’s problem is that she is his mother. It’s not personal; it’s just the normal teenage allergy—and she’s what he’s allergic to. Even if you change everything about yourself, you are still his parent and he is still a teenager. They don’t hate you. It only seems that way.
“Look, Jonathan. I’ve totally changed my hair color. I’ve gotten all new makeup. I don’t even look like me.”
“But you’re still you. I don’t know; maybe if you got a brain transplant.”
As I said, Jonathan’s mother doesn’t get it.
Let me propose a mantra to help parents survive the grimness that can color so much of having a teenager in the house. This mantra is unspoken, but these words are good to have in your head. These are the words that should underlie your interactions with your teenager. You don’t actually say them to your teen. But they are there.
I know that you can’t stand me. I know that you can’t stand even being in the same room with me. But I also know that this is a direct result of a process—adolescence—over which you have no control or even awareness of. I understand that this is all part of your normal psychological development. In only a few years, you will like me again and have no trouble being around me. It’s not about me. It’s just a stage that you are going through. And I know it’s not personal.
No, it is personal! It’s you!
No, it’s not personal. And not only is it not personal, but I love you so much, and I am so oblivious to all the negativity that is spewing outward from you to me, that I actually like being with you. Aren’t we having a good time?
When Your Teen Is Oblivious to You
We’ve already covered the subject of being with your teen when they don’t want to be with you, but now we’re going to address a subtle but important variation on that theme—enjoying your teen even when everything he or she is doing would make even the biggest narcissist feel rejected. The trick in these circumstances is to wear blinders to block out the surface negativity, and to help you focus on the love and attachment that has always been there and still is underneath.
“It’s not there! There is nothing underneath! You don’t know anything!”
But it is there. Let me give an example.
It is a Tuesday evening. Renaldo’s father comes to his son’s room and knocks on the door.
“Can I come in?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m coming in anyway.”
“I know what this is about! You’re not welcome in my room!”
After a brief pause, Renaldo’s father enters his son’s room.
“Here I am again. It’s Tuesday night and it’s time for our weekly father-and-son chat. Isn’t this great?”
“Omigod, it’s happening again.”
“Let’s see, where should we start? Hmm, let me think. I suppose I should begin because you never do, except asking when the chat will be over. I know what we’ll talk about: Do you remember last week I told you about this restaurant I went to for lunch where they had this really good pea soup?”
“I can’t believe this.”
“Well, anyway, I went back there for lunch today and I had the pea soup again, and it was disgusting. I can’t understand it. Maybe they switched cooks or something. What do you think?”
“When will I wake up from this nightmare?”
It is a very useful approach. They may be crabby, but not only do you not take their crabbiness personally, you are such an idiot, so blind to their apparent dislike of you, and you love them so much, that you enjoy being with them—crabbiness and all.
“Aren’t we having a good time?”
“No.”
But they do very much appreciate this approach. For it says—again—that whatever is going on with them, whatever it is that makes them sometimes seriously unpleasant, you are able to rise above it. It says that your love for them trumps all. That is what it feels like to them. You do rise above it. And they like that very much.
I know what you’re thinking: But you can’t just ignore their negative behavior; it deserves, and needs, to be responded to. Otherwise, they will feel that they are getting away with it. And won’t they feel that they can act that way anytime they want?
Not really. Certainly, there are times—as I have described and will describe—when you should pick up on specific negative behavior. But, yes, I am saying—and it is the position that I take throughout this book—that for general day-to-day teenage bad attitude, there is nothing that comes close to producing a more pleasant home and a more pleasant relationship than what I am proposing here.
And the lesson that they learn is not:
It’s okay if I walk all over my parents.
The lesson that they learn is:
I don’t know why, maybe they’re idiots, but despite everything my parents seem to love me. They even seem to like being with me.
I have just described a way of being with teens that runs counter to their negative daily behavior: they can be unpleasant, but that does not mean you have to be. All of this is based on an underlying assumption about your role as a parent. One that lies at the core of this book. I think of it as the “unconditional deal.”
It was the holiday season, a time of goodwill and gift giving. Graham’s mother was thinking about her teenage son.
What has Graham done in the past year to deserve anything? I’ll tell you what he’s done to deserve nothing. For the sake of brevity I’ll list just a very few items:
1. On numerous occasions—too many to count—when
I was in the middle of talking to him, he just left the room.
2. Three weeks ago, when my friend Clarisse was over, he called me “stupid” right in front of her.
3. More than once, he has smoked pot in the house with his buddies and denied it—he even gets mad at me when I confront him.
4. Two days ago—and this kind of thing happens regularly—I asked him if he could bring me a glass of diet root beer with ice since he was going to the kitchen, and he acted like this was the biggest imposition in the world.
5. He constantly says the meanest things to me and swears at his younger brother, who gets very upset.
6. Over the past year, he has given new meaning to the word sullen.
7. And, oh yeah, he’s failing all his classes in school except cooking.
And I’m supposed to give him presents? Why would I want to do that?
In a famous song, Santa Claus advises that kids had better watch their behavior because he knows if they’ve been bad or good. Santa implies that if the answer is “bad,” he’s not going to give them anything, except maybe a lump of coal, or an overlarge and extremely out-of-date cell phone that can’t do anything except make phone calls.
I take strong exception to Santa’s view. What should you do if, on the balancing scale of behavior, your child has tipped far down on the negative side? Not just in regard to presents and holiday time, but the larger question: How much good stuff do they deserve to get from you? How much—if any—attention, caring, favors, gifts, and money should you give to a teenage child who regularly acts like a total jerk?
I am a strong advocate of what I call “the unconditional deal”: there is much that I give you, automatically, just because you are my child. Though I may, at the time, react negatively in response to unpleasant things that you do, there is much that you will receive anyway—no matter what. Automatically, just because you are my child, you get certain things from me—love, attention, caring, favors, presents—in order to make your life as pleasant as it possibly can be. And you get all of that with no strings attached—just because you are my child.
“Ho! Ho! Ho! You can’t do that. Then they won’t learn what’s naughty or nice.”
Santa’s point is that if your teen acts like a jerk all year yet still gets loving attention and nice presents as if he had been an angel, what does that teach him? Doesn’t it tell him he can get away with any kind of behavior?
The unconditional deal says that, completely separate from any consequences for bad behavior, there is something built into your relationship with your child where he automatically gets good stuff from you just because he is your child. Your teen does learn a lesson from this, and that lesson is not that he can get away with bad behavior. He learns that you give to him—whether he has acted well or not—because that is what you, as his parent, do. You try to make him happy.
What your teen will think is not:
My parents are such total wusses that I can do anything and they give me stuff anyway. What naive jerks! How can you respect people who are so dumb?
What he thinks is much more like:
I don’t know. They can be jerks, and I totally hate them sometimes. And I know that sometimes I don’t exactly act right—they deserve it, mind you, because they acted like jerks to me. Still, they try to be nice to me, and sometimes they even give me nice stuff. And the only reason that I can think of for why they do this is because of some kind of bigger deal that goes on just because I’m their kid. I gotta say I like the deal.
And, having been recipients of the unconditional deal, children are far more—not less—likely to be generous themselves.
Regardless of what people—or even Santa—say, I am a strong believer that this is the deal that all children deserve.
Being the parent of a teenager is a very different experience from that which precedes their adolescence. To get along with a teenager requires certain attitudinal shifts on your part. If you don’t make these shifts, then parenting a teenager can be a lot rougher than it needs to be. These shifts are necessitated by real changes in who these kids become once they are adolescents.
One of the most important shifts involves accepting your status as a human being who has flaws.
“Dad, why do you always brush your hair like that, trying to cover up your bald spot? Do you know how geeky it looks?”
“Mom, why do you always talk in that phony voice whenever your boss is on the phone?”
“Dad, you’re doing it again: you always line up your silverware before you eat. You have OCD.”
Teenagers can be brutal when it comes to pointing out your flaws. They seem to take pleasure in detailing every blemish and failing. Their comments can be very hard to shrug off. They know us well, and what they point out are usually real flaws. Their comments often hit right at our insecurities.
I really hate my bald spot. I had hoped that the way I brushed my hair would cover it, but maybe it doesn’t look so good. I’m not sure what to do.
It’s true that I talk in a different voice with my boss. I can’t help it. I just get very nervous whenever I talk to her. I wish I didn’t.
That’s wrong. I don’t always line up my silverware before eating. Actually, I do. Maybe I do have OCD. I don’t know. OCD? Do you think?
And it’s such a change from how they used to view you when they were younger.
“Hi, Mommy! Look what I have for the best mommy in the world!”
“Why, isn’t that sweet, Samantha. Another ‘I Love You, Mommy’ card with hearts and smiley faces. Thank you, Samantha.”
“Would you like another one, Mommy?”
“Not right now, sweetheart. Mommy has enough for now.”
“That’s okay, Mommy! I’m going to make some more for you! I’m going to put rainbows on them this time!”
“I really have enough, Samantha.”
“Oh, I’ll just make another one anyway because I love you so much!”
“I have the smartest dad in the whole world, don’t I, Dad?”
“Well, maybe not the smartest in the whole world, Jonathan.”
“Yes, you are! You’re the smartest dad in the whole world!”
They idolized you, this adult person who was the font of all strength, wisdom, and goodness.
“I really love my mommy!”
When they were little kids they needed to see you as wise and powerful because they depended on you. Their sense of security and well-being was rooted in you. If there was a problem, they could always turn to Mommy or Daddy.
“Mommy! I have a problem.”
“What is it, dear?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, Mommy will figure it out and fix it.”
Parents were all-knowing and all-powerful and could be relied on. Parents could deal with everything that they—as little kids—couldn’t. They didn’t have to worry about being competent as long as their parents were.
So what happened? The worm turned.
As I described earlier, the hallmark of adolescence is that your now teenage children feel they can no longer be dependent little kids. They have to see themselves as independent, adultlike beings, because they know they’ll soon be out on their own. They are painfully aware that they are far from perfect. And if being an adult means that you are supposed to be perfect—if adults are expected to be completely competent, know everything, and have no flaws—then they are in big trouble.
It was okay for me to think that my parents were perfect when it was their job to take care of me. But now it’s my job to take care of me. And that scares the shit out of me. I’m supposed to be independent and rely on myself to get through life. Which is fine, except that I can’t help but notice that I have lots of things wrong with me. There’s all kinds of stuff I don’t know and lots of things I’m not good at. Also, I don’t seem to have anything near total control of myself. I do stuff that I know is not in my best interest. And there’s all kinds of stuff that I know I should do, but I can’t make myself do them. How is a big mess like me ever going to manage on my own? How am I supposed to survive in the big world if I have so many things wrong with me? Mom and Dad seem to have been able to do it, but they’re not a big mess like me.
No, wait—I just got an idea: maybe they’re not so perfect. Maybe they have lots of issues just like I do. If so, that would be great! What a relief! Maybe you don’t have to be that perfect to survive. If that’s true, then I have a chance. Excellent!
Which is why it’s a big relief to teenagers when they see that adults in their world, especially their parents, have flaws. Lots of them. It’s something they want to point out at every opportunity.
“Dad, did you know that your left ear is bigger than your right ear? Why is that?”
So what’s a parent to do when faced with ever-more-critical children? This is a big issue in building a good relationship with one’s teenage child. It’s not only an issue that can be troubling to parents; it is one where many parents frequently err.
There are good and bad ways to respond when your flaws are constantly being pointed out to you. One wrong way—which teenagers hate, and subsequently fight against tooth and nail—is when parents defend themselves or, even worse, counterattack. Far better are responses that illustrate an ability to accept your flaws and not be so thrown by having them outed for all the world to see.
To do this one must be strong—and by “strong” I don’t mean according to the standard definition. Teenagers are not just older, they are now also smarter and wiser in viewing the ways of the world than they were when they were still little kids. With their new, more adultlike perceptions, they recognize that a more sophisticated definition of “strong” exists. “Strong” is not just knowing everything and having power over people. “Strong” can also mean being comfortable with yourself, feeling that you are—overall—a competent person despite the fact that you—like all other humans—have lots of flaws. In fact, they often perceive people’s efforts to hide their flaws as a kind of “weakness.” Once kids become smarter and wiser teenagers, such bravado starts looking less like “strong” and more like “insecure.” Regardless, teens will continue to fight to keep you flawed.
Let me go back to the examples mentioned above.
Eduardo, to his father:
“Dad, you know the way you brush your hair to cover up your bald spot? It really looks geeky.”
“I think it looks fine. There’s nothing wrong with the way my hair looks. Nobody has said anything to me.”
What his son thinks:
My dad won’t admit that he has any flaws. I guess looking geeky is a real problem if you’re an adult, and my dad hasn’t figured out how to handle it. He just denies it. I guess it really is tough having flaws when you go out into the world.
And in response to his father’s defensiveness, Eduardo will probably just attack all the more.
“Well, it does. It makes you look really geeky.”
Or, another bad parental response:
“It’s really rude to talk to me that way, Eduardo. I hope you know never to say something like that to a teacher or one of our friends. Or, God forbid, to your aunt Rebecca, who has such little hair left since she got sick. How do you like it when people tease you about being short?”
Again, it is not a good response. If Eduardo’s father is genuinely concerned that his son might talk that way to others outside the immediate family, then he should bring it up with Eduardo at a later time. Here, the only impact of Eduardo’s father’s words will be to show his son that he cannot handle being flawed, and his son sees—correctly—that his father’s words are a counterpunch designed to fend off embarrassment. Which, again, would elicit a continuing attack.
“It’s not rude. I’m stating a fact. It’s true. It looks really geeky. Who’s going to tell you if not your kid? You should thank me.”
A better—nondefensive—response would be as follows:
“Dad, why do you brush your hair like that trying to cover up your bald spot? Do you know how geeky it looks?”
“You think so? Yeah, I guess it sort of does. But it’s the best I can do if I want to cover up the bald spot, and I hate the bald spot.”
Which might well evoke:
“You don’t think there’s something else you could do? Maybe you should go to a hairdresser. Guys do, you know.”
Now Eduardo is an ally.
How would I describe this approach? Honest. Matter-of-fact. Willing to accept and be comfortable with having flaws. Above all, it is not defensive. It is by far a much better attitude to have and a better way to model behavior to your child.
Now let’s revisit the second scenario:
“Mom, why do you always use that weird phony voice whenever you talk to your boss on the phone?”
The not-so-good response would be:
“If I speak differently it is because she’s my boss and I speak more respectfully toward her because that’s how you should address your employer.”
Which is a lie, as she speaks that way because her boss—whom she dislikes—makes her nervous.
Or perhaps:
“Why do you always think you have to criticize everything that I do?”
Again, with both responses, the mother is not able to accept her own flaws and is communicating that fact very clearly to her child.
The much better response would be:
“I don’t know. She makes me nervous. Whenever I talk to her, it just comes out like that.”
Honest. Not defensive. And the lesson your child hears is:
Mom gets nervous about stuff. Like I do.
These better responses definitely show the parent being more vulnerable in front of their child.
For better or for worse, this is who I am.
Many parents have a lot of trouble tolerating this more vulnerable approach. Which is why they so quickly get defensive and angry.
Some even ask, “Is it okay for a parent to expose themselves to their child like that? Doesn’t that make the parent seem weak? Don’t they lose some of their child’s respect?
No. As I described, it comes off as more honest. More adult. More, not less, worthy of respect.
The third example:
“Dad, you know the way you always line up your silverware before you eat—even if it’s fine? You have OCD.”
The not-so-good reply:
“There is nothing wrong with liking things to be neat. And I certainly don’t have OCD.”
“No, you have OCD. Maybe you should be on medication.”
The better reply:
“Yeah, I guess I am kind of a neatness freak.”
“Not kind of.”
Yet another example:
“Mom, you are such an idiot. You got all these banana-strawberry yogurts for Carrie [her younger sister], but Carrie never eats the banana-strawberry ones.”
“Well, if I wasn’t so rushed at the supermarket because I had to get back here so I could get you over to your friend Vanessa’s house, I wouldn’t have made the mistake. Besides, it’s good for Carrie to sometimes have to get used to foods she doesn’t like.”
The best response of all:
“Yeah, I forgot.”
A last example:
Darren’s father underestimated the time that it would take to drive from their house to where Darren had his soccer game. As a result, Darren got to the soccer game twenty-five minutes late.
“Dad, you really fucked up! Now I’m really fucked! Coach Daniels is going to be really pissed at me! You know how he feels about kids being late!”
The not-so-good response:
“These directions that they gave you weren’t any good. They made it look like it was a much shorter trip than it turned out to be. I’m going to find out who was responsible for the directions.”
The better response:
“I’m sorry, Darren. I screwed up.”
You may rightfully ask yourself, But how can you admit to flaws one minute, and the next minute boss your kid around? Doesn’t this approach undermine you? Isn’t it incompatible with being an authoritative parent?
No. It is, I think, a particularly adult approach. In effect, you’re saying, “Yes, I do have flaws. Lots of them. But I feel okay about myself. I even feel good about myself in the job of being your parent—ignorant as I may be at times.”
It’s a more real approach. Instead of being an adult who constantly feels they have to appear flawless, you take on a far less defensive persona. It’s also a far more useful model for your kids. You’re saying that this is what it is to be an adult: not a know-it-all, not someone who can handle all situations, but someone who is imperfect, yet good enough. It is possible to be an adult and not be perfect.
It’s an approach that teenagers like. Teenagers want to feel that their parents are competent. Just not too competent. The main problem with the adult-equals-perfect approach is that teenagers hate it and they will attack. They don’t tolerate adults who think they know everything. Those are the adults who regularly have the most difficulty in dealing with teenagers. When you admit flaws, they respect you more, not less.
Engaging in Friendly Teasing—When Your Teen Does It to You
Owning up to your own flaws can be really useful in building a relationship with your teenager. It can even have an added bonus beyond their being reassured that you don’t have to be perfect to be a competent adult. If you are comfortable with being flawed in front of your teenager, then that comfort can allow them to express very nice feelings of love toward you.
“Dad, you are so clumsy,” says Bernie as his father trips on the stairs coming into the house. “Clumsy Man, that’s who you are. Maybe you could have your own TV show, kind of a reverse superhero.”
“Mom, you did it again,” Johanna shouts gleefully. “You made a right turn when the GPS lady said to go left. You’re directionally challenged.”
Strange as it may seem, both of the above are examples of loving contact from a teenager toward their parent. It is often the one way that teenagers can circumvent the teen allergy. They may indeed have feelings of love and closeness toward you, but the teenage allergy prevents them from showing these feelings in an overt way. Teasing provides a good cover.
There are, of course, some times when teens are comfortable with direct expressions of love and affection.
“I love you, Dad.”
Or with giving a parent a spontaneous hug.
In fact, many teens actually do this. But many don’t. Many just are not comfortable with such public or physical displays. Since being close and intimate—loving, openly vulnerable, and friendly—directly runs up against the teen allergy, many teens use gentle teasing as their one acceptable way of maintaining loving contact with their family. It’s akin to a friendly punch.
If I can somehow make friendly contact in a way that has some kind of a built-in distancing mechanism, that would work. I could do that. I can actually sometimes feel affection toward my dad, but saying “I love you” or giving him a hug just feels too weird.
The above two examples of friendly teasing are okay from the teen’s standpoint.
I’m being intimate and friendly, but it’s acceptable to me because it’s couched in the form of an insult. (None of these words by the teenagers are in their heads. But they are how the teenagers feel.)
If you saw a video of the above two child-teasing-parent examples, you would actually see that the exchanges are truly good-natured. But for that kind of comfort to exist, for the exchanges to be good-natured, the parent must already have established a sense that they are comfortable being on the receiving end of friendly put-downs.
Again, for teasing to be friendly and good-natured, it requires that the one being teased does not mind the teasing. But if you are comfortable with it, as the butt of ongoing jokes, you can fit in with how teenagers often prefer to view their parents. They want to see you as competent when that is necessary, for their sense of security. But they also very much like the idea of a parent who in some ways is clueless.
Teenagers want to see their parents as people who can handle their own lives, who can deal more or less effectively, who are knowledgeable about the world, whom they can count on to provide them with a secure life. They tend to be proud of parents who do well.
At the same time, they do not want their parents to be knowledgeable in regard to their world—the world of friends, school, and, especially, those things that are peculiar to the world of teens: what they like, what’s current, what’s cool, what’s not. They very definitely do not want their parents to be knowledgeable about those things.
A significant aspect of teenagers’ being able to establish a comfortable distance from their parents is in their knowledge that their parents do not know everything going on in their heads. There is much that teenagers believe that their parents would not understand because their parents are old and very much not with it, so they cannot know about this part of their teens’ world. They just aren’t hip enough.
It is parent-as-sort-of-bozo.
What they want in a parent:
My dad and mom are nice but they are clueless about a lot of stuff. They think that Frank Sinatra is the best. Mom thinks it’s really cool to go around the house wearing bunny slippers, and Dad has this hat with earflaps that he wears sometimes in the house, which he says keeps his neck warm. And his stomach gurgles, and they both snore, which Mom denies that she does, but she does. And if we watch something funny on TV, they laugh at the wrong parts. And they totally do not get Rappin Lennie, who they think should be banned, and they 100 percent do not understand how cool he is. Also, any joke that either of them tells is so totally not funny.
It is all part of the image of a parent that teens are most comfortable with.
It is not necessarily a real flaw. It is more of an assigned fictional caricature.
There is a parental caricature that teens are particularly comfortable with. It is of the good-natured adult who in some areas is competent but otherwise is hopelessly clueless.
“Well, duh, Dad. You just have to do a right click, and then double click on the icon.”
Engaging in Friendly Teasing—When You Do It to Your Teen
Your kids like teasing you. It can be genuinely affectionate. Enjoyed by them. Enjoyed by you. It is not, however, a two-way street.
“We call Travis Mr. Big Ears. He knows we’re only teasing. That we don’t mean anything by it. That it’s all in fun.”
“Speaking of vomiting, Renee, do you remember that time at the zoo when you threw up?”
“Carly has a crush on this nice boy in her algebra class. He’s your new heartthrob, isn’t he, honey?”
Often, as part of our loving relationship with our teenage children, we engage in gentle teasing. It’s part of the fun that parents have with their kids. The problem is that our children don’t like it.
This is what we think they think of our loving teasing:
I don’t mind when they call me Mr. Big Ears. I like it. I know they don’t mean anything by it. It’s a way of us having fun together.
This is what he actually thinks:
It’s not funny. I don’t like it. Yeah, I know I have big ears. I wish I didn’t. I’m embarrassed by my ears. They know that. I don’t know why they think it’s funny, teasing me about something I’m so uncomfortable with.
The only thing that Travis gets out of the teasing is that he is embarrassed and has an unpleasant feeling.
“Ha, ha, ha,” he says good-naturedly. Fuck you, he thinks.
No, they do not enjoy your teasing. Teasing makes fun of their flaws. It only makes them more uncomfortable, even ashamed.
“He’s our Elbow Boy,” teases Clement’s father. And for the next year, Clement wears only long-sleeved shirts.
Over time, if the teasing continues, they may get used to it so that it does not bother them quite so much. They become hardened to it. But they never like it.
A good rule with regard to teasing one’s teenage children is this: don’t do it.
But doesn’t occasional good-natured teasing allow children to better deal with teasing out in the world? Not really. That skill comes from a combination of their own self-confidence and verbal facility. (For example, children with language-learning disorders have a particularly hard time dealing with teasing.) Teasing from a parent can and does harden children. But that is not a good thing. If anything, it hardens them so that they begin to believe that demeaning and hurtful behavior really isn’t bad.
It’s normal and natural to want to tease your teenage children. It’s just not a good idea.
The nature of acceptable teasing is always that the recipient must be comfortable, must be happy, must be willing to be on the receiving end. What may seem like friendly teasing becomes something very different when the recipient is not 100 percent okay with it.
“Allison, it looks like you’re developing a mustache. That’s funny, right?”
“Yeah, it’s real funny.”
Parents teasing their children—even if the teasing seems good-natured—is not a good thing.
“The problem with parents today is that they don’t want to be parents. They don’t like the part where they actually have to say ‘no’ or make demands on their kids. They don’t like it when they have to act like adults and maybe have their kid not like them. All that parents today want is to be their kid’s friends. Come down to their kid’s level. Be best buddies. And, big surprise: their kids are running around wild, doing anything they feel like with no respect for anything or anybody.”
The above is a commonly heard criticism of today’s parents. That they don’t want to be a parent. They want to be a friend, a buddy. Should a parent be a buddy with their own child? Does being your teenager’s friend conflict with proper parenting?
It depends. By being a friend I am referring to how you regularly spend time with your teen, when you are just being together. Driving in the car, doing errands, engaging in a hobby or a sport, drinking coffee in the kitchen together. Above all, the times you spend talking. But the talking is not about the usual parenting issues such as plans, rules, or tasks that need to be done; instead, it is about anything else, it is times when you mainly talk about the sharing of experiences—the same as what you would do with a friend.
Daria’s mother to her daughter:
“So I went to High Fashion, Low Price at the mall and they had this incredible top that was really nice and would go perfectly with my gray pants. But there was a really long line at the cash register, and I kind of lost my cool in the line, and I said a couple of swears at the cash register lady, and then I was too embarrassed, so I put the top back and left. But the problem is, I really liked the blouse, and I want it and I kind of screwed myself.”
“Mom, you are such a loser.”
“I know. But what should I do? I really want the blouse.”
The above is an example of an excellent mother-and-daughter exchange. It has only a positive effect on the relationship between parent and child, and a positive effect on the child. It is beneficial because it establishes intimacy with your teen in an adult way, a way that is nurturing and pleasurable.
And not only that, when parent and teenager talk openly and comfortably about their own day-to-day experiences, there is always the possibility that your teen may talk not just about the mundane issues in their lives, but also about the risky behavior areas that we worry about and would like to be able to discuss more openly with our teens—sex, drugs, drinking.
“So, PJ got really drunk and was acting so goofy like he does a lot and, Mom, he was having trouble even walking straight. Mom, he was so totally shit-faced.”
When parent and teen talk comfortably about these topics, just the fact that they are talking serves as a significant deterrent to overly risky behavior. It allows you to slip in an opinion or two.
“Did somebody watch him? Make sure he didn’t drive? You know never to drink like that, right?”
“Mom, you know I never would do that.” (Which actually she has done—twice—but was alarmed seeing how out of control her friend PJ was, and was getting a little nervous about her own drinking.)
But, more important, just the act of talking about these topics puts thoughts about these risky behaviors into your teen’s head. Now, when the risky situations arise, they may not just react, they may now have thoughts in their heads causing them to make more responsible decisions—just from having talked with you.
Being in a relationship where you are a friend to your teenager is excellent and very much to your teen’s advantage. But there are certain restrictions.
For one, sometimes you have to be a parent. There will be times when you will have to say “no” or make demands on them, and usually at those times they will not be happy with you. If that means, for periods of time, you will not be able to be a “friend,” you must be willing to ride out those periods.
One afternoon Daria’s mother told her daughter that she did not want Daria’s twenty-five-year-old male guitar teacher to give her lessons when it would be just the two of them in the house. Daria was not happy with this decision. She and her mother argued, but Daria’s mother held firm. Daria stormed off.
“You are such a bitch.”
An hour later Daria’s mother, who had not been out of the house all day, thought it would be nice to go out for coffee. She approached her daughter.
“Daria, do you feel like going out for coffee?”
“Why would I want to do that with somebody who is a total bitch?”
Daria’s mother chose to go by herself.
Sometimes, because you act in a parental role, your teen will shut you out. It is something you have to accept and be willing to ride out. It only becomes a problem if, because of your need for their friendship right then, you try too hard to get them not to be mad at you. Which will only make matters worse. For example, had Daria’s mother kept pressing her daughter,
“Come on, Daria. Don’t be mad at me. You’ll see, we can both go out and have a nice time,” Daria would likely have seen it as a further opportunity to punish her mother for her edict in regard to her guitar teacher.
“How can I have a nice time with someone who is so unreasonable, who doesn’t trust her own daughter to have any sense?”
And they would be thrown back again into their argument.
But the above did not happen, because in this particular case Daria’s mother handled it well by choosing to go for coffee without her daughter.
What can also pose problems is when, because you do not want to ruin the “friend” relationship, you hold off on saying “no” or making demands when you should. At those times, if your wish to be a friend is your top priority, that is not good.
One of the not-so-easy but necessary skills of parenting a teenager is the ability to make the shift from friend to parent, sometimes turning on a dime.
Just having had a very pleasant time talking together in the car, Daria and her mother arrive home.
“Daria, don’t forget that I need you to clean up the family room because Grandma and Papa are coming over for supper.”
“Mom, I said I would do it; you don’t need to nag me.”
“Fine, but they’ll be here by five o’clock, so I need it done by then.”
“I heard you the first time! I said I would do it! We were having such a good time, and now you had to spoil it by becoming a bitch again!”
The problem would be if Daria’s mother did not mention the room cleanup and suppressed day-to-day business so as not to intrude on her nice time with her daughter.
We were having such a nice time, I don’t want to spoil it. No big deal, I can pick up the family room.
Backing off on normal parental demands and prohibitions so as to preserve a relationship as friends is a mistake. But, often, parents can and do move back and forth between these roles, albeit not always so smoothly.
What the hell is Daria’s problem? We were having such a nice time. You would think Daria, feeling close and friendly toward me, would not want to give me so much attitude about picking up the family room, which really is not such a big deal. You would think that there would be some kind of carryover of the good feeling between us from the nice time we were just having.
You would think. But don’t hold your breath.
Another potential problem arises when a parent’s friendship with their teenage child becomes something that the parent depends on too much for their own happiness. Sensing this need—as they usually do—children may put restrictions on their own behavior, which they really shouldn’t have to.
Mom doesn’t really have a whole lot of friends except for me. I may be her best friend. I mean, I like hanging out with her, but what if I don’t want to spend as much time with her as she does with me? Then she’ll be alone. I don’t want to do anything to hurt her feelings.
A teenager may not feel as free as they should to live their teenage life and make their teenage connections.
“Daria, let’s watch a video tonight. I’ll make that real buttery popcorn that we shouldn’t have. Won’t that be fun?”
But, earlier, Daria had talked to her friend Shawna about maybe doing something together that same evening. Daria was to contact Shawna to firm up their plans.
“Yeah, Mom, that sounds like fun.”
So Daria calls Shawna, explaining that she’s busy.
Maybe that’s fine. Maybe there is no problem with Daria’s choosing to stay home with her mom. But maybe Daria’s mother’s needs are getting in the way of her daughter having her own full teenage life.
Last, within the friend relationship there are some places that you do not want to go. Some things are too personal, too raw to fit in with the more comfortable image of parent.
I want to think of my mom as somebody who is there for me if I need her, who I can count on, but who, when I’m away from her, out in my life, I don’t have to think about. I know maybe it sounds wrong, but I like to think of her as being in this nice little compartment doing mother things, and then there’s my life, which is a whole other, bigger compartment. And the two don’t really mix a whole lot, except when I choose. Or when Mom does one of her intruding-on-my-life-but-I-can-live-with-it parenting things, which is to nag me about stuff.
I’m happiest when the walls between the two compartments are pretty solid. There are parts of me that I want to keep private, and there’s stuff about herself that she may want to talk about that I wish she would keep private, stuff that makes me really uncomfortable.
Teens need to feel that there are boundaries: not too much of you intruding into parts of them that they want to keep private. And not too much of you opening yourself up and exposing them to parts of you that they would rather you kept private.
We will be friends, buddies, close—but with each of us also keeping a certain distance. Close but not too close.
One example of crossing the boundaries is revealing anything about your sex life. What you should share with your teenager about your sex life is nothing. Teens are not comfortable with it. They are trying to deal with their own emerging sexuality. Your sexuality is the last thing that they want to hear about.
“Your father and I have never had the most thrilling sex life.”
“Mom, I really don’t want to hear about it.”
Nor should she have to.
It is okay to talk about your problems with your teenager: “I think that sometimes I worry too much about my sister. I let her problems get to me, and it affects my mood more than it should. But I just can’t help it. Sometimes I think it’s not fair to you and James—me being upset about your aunt Elena, and taking it out on you two.”
But an example of inappropriately crossing the line is when you share your feelings with your teen, but those feelings are too raw, too unfiltered. Too strong a dose of your worries, unhappiness, or concerns is just too overwhelming for them.
“Sometimes I get so depressed that I just think, what’s the point? Why should I even get out of bed? Sometimes I really do hate my life.”
That’s okay to talk about with a counselor, but it’s too much for a teenage child. The problem with this is that it collapses the difference between child and parent. Instead of the mother being the one who still takes responsibility for her child’s well-being, now the teenager has to worry about taking care of her mother.
“Mom, don’t say that! There’s still lots of good stuff! There’s always your Thursday book club.”
The better way to handle the discussion of these emotions is as follows:
“Sometimes I can get pretty depressed, but it’s something that I have to deal with.”
The above says that you get depressed, but you are on the case—trying to manage it. The first way puts too much out there and is asking for help.
What am I supposed to do? I’m just a kid. I wish Mom would get a grip and not dump this shit on me.
Children need to feel that their parents can manage their own lives. That their parents’ overall well-being is something that they do not have to worry about. This frees them up to worry about their own problems and even to be able to turn to their parent for help. All of that is undermined if a child feels their parent is too vulnerable.
Mom has enough problems. I don’t want to worry her with what’s happening to me.
There needs to be a line between the real world of adult concerns and the cleaned-up, for-child-consumption version. Children have the right to have parents who will protect them from the full force of adult suffering. Too much simply overwhelms them. It can make them anxious, stressed, or depressed. And it serves no useful purpose.
One of our jobs is to give our children, as much as we can, the freedom to worry about teenage stuff:
“There’s this girl in my biology class who I really like, but she doesn’t know I exist, except yesterday I was walking next to her in the hall and I said, ‘Don’t you think Ms. Pemmelman is really boring?’ which I know was a really dopey thing to say, but she laughed and said, ‘Yeah.’ And then I didn’t know what else to say so I didn’t say anything, but now I don’t know what to do.” That kind of stuff.
Teenagers do not need to hear about what goes on in your deepest reaches. They deserve the edited version.
Being a friend to your teenager is good. But you cannot be a friend all of the time. And you cannot bring all of you into the friendship.
Bruno was supposed to work on the house when he got home from school so that it would be all picked up by the time his mother got home. Bruno’s mother arrived home only to find her son sprawled on the couch, watching TV and eating Mi Ranchero Taco Chips, the floor near him covered with crumbs as well as some kind of gooey yellow stuff that might be cheese spread.
“Bruno, you were supposed to pick up the house, but all you’ve done is make a bigger mess!”
“What? Why are you yelling at me?” said Bruno as he changed his position on the couch, causing him to knock over a can, spilling soda on the rug.
“I can’t believe you! Look at this room! You don’t give a crap about this house or anything I say! You don’t understand how much I sacrifice for you! My life sucks! I get no help from you or your father! I’m under pressure all the time at a job I hate! I constantly have to worry about money! I don’t have time for anything! What kind of life do I have? And I come home to this? It is so unfair!”
When they act like jerks and we want them to know how jerky they are acting, sometimes it can be very hard not to bring in our own pain and suffering to make our point, adding some weight to our argument.
“How can you do this to me? You don’t know what I have to go through! I try to spare you from knowing how hard it is for me because I want you to be free to lead your own life. But you just don’t get it! I don’t need this! I really don’t need this!”
Teenagers can be so heedless at times. They can sometimes be so cruel and seem to think nothing of it. We want to impress on them what their behavior does to us.
I want Bruno to understand how what he does affects me. I want him to understand that what he does hurts me. If he can truly understand the pain he causes me, then he might think twice before he acts like such a jerk.
The problem is that we all have—not so deep inside of us (just get drunk and watch it come out)—a vast reservoir of hurt and pain that includes all of the wrongs that ever have befallen us that never got resolved, that were just as unfair now as they were then, the cosmic injustice that has made our life so much less than what we had wanted—and none of it is our fault. But most of the time our more rational side keeps this wellspring of bitterness safely out of the way.
Actually, when I think about it, I don’t have such a bad life at all. There’s no reason for me to dwell on stuff that happened well in the past and is never going to get resolved anyway.
But when we feel wronged, there it all is, lurking not so far beneath the surface, waiting for an excuse to come out.
The challenge is that this part of us, when it speaks, is not so interested in resolving a problem in the here and now—for example, having Bruno act more considerately. It wants something far more. It wants everything—including revenge. It is not a nice part of us. To those on the receiving end, it feels like the other person is using their suffering like a club. Which is precisely what they are doing. And the invariable response from a teenager is not sympathy for our suffering but rather resentment toward us for hitting them with all of this.
What is her problem? I’m sorry she has a shitty life. But that’s not my fault. What gives her the right to dump all of that shit on me? Fuck her!
“Fuck you! Why don’t you get a life? I’m not the one who makes you miserable!”
And Bruno stomps out of the room, leaving the taco chip crumbs and the spilled soda untouched.
“Bruno, you get back here!”
A far better tactic would be to let him know how you feel about his behavior in no uncertain terms. It’s fine to be mad at him. It’s fine to let him know how mad. It’s excellent that you let him know how unacceptable his behavior is.
“Look at this mess! I asked you to clean up and instead, look at this! I can’t believe you! You just lie there! You don’t care about anything! All you care about is yourself!”
The message is: Boy, Mom sure is mad. She is really pissed off that I made a big mess.
It is a natural consequence. You act like a lazy slob and your mother has a fit.
Will it motivate Bruno to clean up next time? Maybe. Maybe not. But he certainly will have in his head: If I don’t clean up, Mom will have a major fit.
That fact won’t always get him to clean up. But sometimes it may. I guess I should pick up because I’m really not in the mood for one of Mom’s tantrums.
But it is not his mother baring her global suffering. That, as I said, gets a very different response. Anger and great suffering are two very different entities. Kids don’t like anger, but they can deal with it. Deep personal suffering as a consequence of not cleaning up is not possible to deal with. It’s too much. Too big.
You don’t like their behavior. Let them know. But keep your own personal misery out of it. That only tends to backfire.
Let me again use the Bruno example, but this time to illustrate a different point, this time with Bruno and his father. Bruno’s father had a hard day. He was under a lot of pressure at work and just that morning had an unpleasant meeting with his boss, on top of which he’d had a brief but nasty exchange with a coworker with whom he was having continuing problems. Also, he was having one of his bad tension headaches. He was not in a good mood. Arriving home that evening, he was particularly on edge and wanted very much not to be bothered by anyone or anything. At least he wouldn’t have to pick up around the house, because Bruno was supposed to have done that when he got home from school, so the house should be neat by the time his father got home.
As in the previous example, that didn’t happen. The house was a mess, and there was Bruno on the couch eating his taco chips.
“What the hell is this?”
“What do you mean? I don’t know.”
“Bruno, you were supposed to pick up the house, but all you’ve done is make a bigger mess.”
“What? Why are you yelling at me? I was going to clean up. I was.”
“Bruno, I am so sick and tired of this! I’ve had a really hard day! I really don’t need this!”
“Well, I had a hard day too.”
“You had a hard day? You had a hard day? I am so sick and tired of this! You are such a fucking loser! And do you know what? That’s all you’re ever going to be! Lying on the couch, a big fucking loser! It’s what you are! I am so sick of this!”
And Bruno’s father stormed out of the room.
“You’re a fucking loser,” Bruno called out. But his heart wasn’t in it, as he had been stung by his father’s words.
I’m not a loser. That’s not fair. I was going to pick up, but I was tired. I was planning to do it. He has no right to say that to me. Look at him. He shouldn’t talk.
Bruno ended up doing a halfhearted job of straightening up, but he spent the rest of the evening in his room, avoiding any contact with his father. He couldn’t shake his father’s words.
I know I’m not as good as I could be about helping around the house. But that doesn’t make me a loser. That’s not fair. Does he really think I’m a loser? I’m not a loser. He’s a loser.
But if it was his dad who was the loser, not him, Bruno couldn’t figure out why he felt like crying.
Sometimes we lose it. They push us so hard that we go past where we wanted to go. We say things that we really did not want to say. Hurtful things. Maybe we had a bad day. Maybe we didn’t. But our kids can be so maddening. And we are only human.
Does it hurt them? Does it damage them?
Expressing anger toward a teenage child is not necessarily a bad thing. When they act in an incredibly heedless and jerky manner, and when that behavior has a direct and negative effect on you, not expressing your anger would even seem a little inappropriate. Parental anger, especially in response to something that should make you angry, does not damage a teenager—as long as that expression of anger is within acceptable bounds. But being too angry and too loud for too long, and also using words that are too stinging, can be a problem.
“You’re a loser!”
“You’re an idiot!”
“I don’t understand how you turned out this way!”
“You’re a disgrace!”
Children have no defense against this. The words cut too deep. They can’t change who they are; they can only change what they do. The words stay in their head but not in a constructive way.
Either they think,
I’m a loser, so what’s the point?
Or,
He thinks I’m a loser; fuck him! Why should I try to please him? What’s the point? I’ll try to find somebody who thinks I’m okay.
So if you think that you went too far, what should you do? Apologize. Apologize sooner rather than later. Wait for things to calm down a little, but don’t wait very long. Either that same day or the next. And apologizing in person is best.
What should you say?
A short, unequivocal statement:
“Bruno, I should not have said what I did. There is no excuse. I was wrong. I am sorry.”
Also, don’t look for a response to the apology.
“Will you accept my apology? Okay?”
You are making a statement. You should require nothing of them.
We tend not to do so well when giving apologies. The most frequent problem is that most of us are not comfortable saying “I’m sorry” and then saying nothing more. We don’t like to accept straightforward, unadulterated blame. It leaves us feeling too vulnerable.
We strongly prefer to include qualifiers—something to fend off the full brunt of the blame.
“I’m sorry but . . .”
We tend to give excuses.
“I’m sorry, but I had a really hard and stressful day.”
Which was true, but to the extent that you include excuses, you negate most, if not all, of the good that an apology might do. Often such excuses make things worse than if you had offered no apology at all. See, he can’t even apologize!
Even more frustrating is when we try to put the blame back on them. “I’m sorry, Bruno, but if you would only take more responsibility for what you do around the house, this would not have happened.”
In this case, your words say that you’re unwilling to take responsibility for your unacceptable behavior and are transferring the blame onto your child. Here the effect is definitely worse than no apology at all. He’s a dick! Screw him!
Also, it is not a good idea to say that you will make sure that you won’t do it again. The problem, of course, is that you might do it again. So don’t promise something you might not be able to deliver.
The message needs to be that you’re sorry, that you believe you crossed the line, and that it wasn’t okay to do so. End of story.
It may be hard, but there is a giant upside to flat-out, unqualified, no-excuses apologies. For one, they can go a long way toward taking the sting out of your words. Dad said he was sorry. It still hurts, what he said, but his saying he was sorry does seem to make me feel better. That is what happens with apologies.
The other excellent result of unqualified apologies is that they set a very good example. Dad said he was sorry and he didn’t give any kind of bullshit excuses. He just said it. That was good.
But apologies only work up to a point. If the too-strong responses by you happen too frequently—exactly like the alcoholic who has drunken rages and always apologizes but then always does it again—the apologies become empty.
Last, never hit a teenager. It is a disaster. It makes them crazy. And it often will have bad, even very bad and frequently immediate, consequences. It is never okay. Even when you may feel that there was extreme provocation. It is never okay.
“Fuck you, motherfucker! Fuck you! Did you hear me? Fuck you!”
SMACK!
“Well, what am I supposed to do? After what he just said? He deserved it!”
No, he didn’t.
Tonia is lying on the couch, watching television. Her mother comes into the room to look for a pencil, finds one next to the magazines, and leaves.
Adam is in his room with the door closed. His parents are both home. Over the course of the next three hours, there are no verbal exchanges between them.
Morgan’s dad drops her off at soccer practice. She mumbles “’Bye” as she darts out the car door.
Lance, on the way to his room, passes his father in the hallway. No words are spoken.
Once they hit their teens—as part of the normal but temporary allergy to parents—a teenager’s end of almost any conversation can all but dry up. It can become very easy to go through days with virtually no communication at all, other than exchanging words of a business nature.
“Ryan, don’t forget you said you’d take out the recycling.”
“Whatever.”
Days at a time—maybe more than just days—may pass with no real loving contact between parent and child. Even when the relationship is generally friendly, still not a whole lot that is positive is happening. This is not good.
There are things you can and should do under such circumstances: let’s try the above scenes a little differently.
Tonia’s mother comes into the room to look for a pencil.
“I love my Tonia.”
Tonia grunts. Her mother exits but not before she adds, “I love my Tonia a lot.”
Adam’s mother comes to the door of his room, knocks on the door, and then calls out, “Hello. I love you.” Silence.
And an hour later she comes back and knocks again. “Hello. I still love you.”
And maybe an hour after that. “It’s me. I love you.”
“Bye,” Morgan says as she rushes by her father out to the soccer field.
“Bye. You’re my best girl. I love you. Knock ’em dead. I really love you,” her father calls out to his rapidly receding daughter.
“I’ve got the best guy in the world,” says Lance’s father to his son as they pass each other in the hallway. (This is said even if Lance is a straight-D student and seems to reserve most of his passion for violent video games.)
The above is particularly useful in those little awkward moments when you and your teenager are together but with really nothing to say. It immediately changes a silent and awkward moment into a swift, friendly one.
My point: it is a really good idea to regularly—every day—make an express point of saying affectionate little things to your teenager. Every day. More than once a day. Engage in brief, frequent, loving contact.
This is not a minor suggestion. Make it a habit. This is definitely one of those deals where a little can go a long way.
Your teen may or may not respond. It doesn’t matter. The point is that you are reaching out and regularly making brief but loving contact with your child. It is not conditional. You are not requiring anything of them.
Picture the alternative, and how different it is from what I am suggesting.
“You know what? It would be nice if, one time, when I say something friendly, you might actually say something friendly back.”
“How about ‘Don’t talk to me ever’? Would that be good?”
No. It is not conditional.
Some days this will be easier than others. There will be days when you are tired or not in a good mood, are in a hurry, are not feeling especially loving toward your child because they have been giving you trouble lately, and you forgo the loving little phrases. That would be a mistake. You want to keep doing it regardless. Fortunately, it really takes very little effort. And if you do it regularly it becomes automatic, a habit.
The good news is that not only do they like it—this evidence that you love them, that you are not totally put off by the shell that they have grown around them—but it actually gets you to like them more, to feel closer. You are having conversations with their inner loving child, who often may be invisible but who is still very much there. Imagine that this is to whom you are talking—because you are.
“I know you’re in there.”
The truth is that they grow to like it. A lot.
“Dad, do you always have to say that stuff? ‘You’re my best guy. You’re my best guy.’ It’s really lame.”
“Yes, I do have to always say that stuff.”
“Well, it’s really dumb. It doesn’t accomplish anything.”
But it does.