Introduction
The Parenting Revolution

Before I get into providing specific advice, I need to discuss certain truths about child development and the nature of adolescence that underlie all of the guidance I offer in this book.

Having read what I have written so far, you are probably wondering: If the removal of fear from child rearing was the direct cause of the dramatic increase in back talk . . . and if this guy is saying that the removal of fear from child raising was excellent . . . is he then saying that the onslaught of back-talking little monsters we’ve produced is not such a bad thing after all? My answer is yes, that’s exactly what I am saying.

Fortunately, this increase in bratty behavior—as unpleasant as it sometimes can be—is not nearly as bad as it seems. This is because a particular fact of human psychology places the bratty behavior in a more benign light. Further, this same fact of human psychology suggests ways to dramatically reduce the amount of fussing we experience day to day in our relationships with our teens. (Mind you, it will not eliminate the fussing entirely, as that would require returning to the old harsh-punishment model of parenting, but it will help.) Let me describe this particular universal fact of human psychology to you.

The Baby Self and the Mature Self

I have noticed a remarkable phenomenon. If I am at the home of a friend or a relative, I always ask the host if there is anything I can do to help. Or if we have guests at our house, I ask if there is anything that they would like to make them more comfortable. If they request something of me, I willfully comply. I do it easily, happy for the opportunity to be useful.

As of this writing, I have been married for many years to a wonderful woman. I am very happy in my marriage. But if just Mary Alice and I are at home and Mary Alice asks me to do a rather simple favor for her—let’s say we’re both in the same room, and Mary Alice asks if I wouldn’t mind getting her a glass of water with a little ice in it (our refrigerator has an ice dispenser that makes this quite easy to prepare), I invariably find myself engulfed by an incredible and sudden tiredness. Just the thought of the slightest exertion leaves my body overwhelmed by a leaden heaviness that makes completing this task impossible.

Maybe I have chronic fatigue syndrome. I really can’t do it. I can’t.

Not only that, but a sense of being very much imposed upon also comes, unbidden, into my head.

Why can’t she get it herself? As she perfectly well knows, I had a very hard day, considerably harder than hers—which, by the way, she never seems to understand. She thinks her days are harder than mine. She should be asking me if I want a glass of water with some ice in it, for goodness’ sake. Omigod, I am so tired. Nobody understands.

You, dear reader, might feel at this point that I am acting like a big baby. But I totally disagree, which only shows that you don’t understand either. Why is everybody always on Mary Alice’s side? I don’t get it. A big baby? Hardly.

But this phenomenon doesn’t just apply to me, as you will see from this next example:

If we were to take a video camera and follow sixteen-year-old Lindsay through a typical day at school, where she is a very good student, always handing in her homework on time, we’d see that she is very polite and responsive in class. She belongs to many school clubs. All of her teachers agree that she is a model student. She is also a good, sensitive listener to her friends.

After school, we’d watch as Lindsay goes to her friend Tara’s house. There she and Tara work on a project for Spanish.

“Bye, Mrs. Timmerman,” Lindsay says to Tara’s mother as she leaves.

“Bye, Lindsay dear,” says Tara’s mother.

I’m so glad Tara has such a nice friend, thinks Tara’s mother.

We continue the video. It is later that same day; Lindsay is now at home.

“Mom, get Jared the hell out of my room!” she shouts before bursting into tears.

A little later. Lindsay is in the kitchen.

“Somebody drank my Diet Pepsi. I can’t believe it. Nothing is mine. I can’t have anything of my own that people don’t feel free to take. I hate this house!” Lindsay screams this last part.

And a little later still:

“Mom, where the hell is the red towel? You know it’s the only one I can use. Where the hell is my red towel?!”

My point in sharing these two perplexing examples is to illustrate a universal fact of human psychology among both children and adults: we all have two distinctly different modes of behavior—really two different selves. One is a domestic self that just wants to unwind and be fed. In an attempt to completely relax, that self will tolerate absolutely no stress whatsoever. I call it the “baby self.” Its domain is at home and with immediate family members—those with whom we feel the safest and the most comfortable. But there is another side to us: what I call the “mature self.” It functions at a completely higher level. It will go out into the world, work, endure stress, and even delay gratification in order to achieve a goal. It has patience and self-control. And these two—the baby self and mature self—function side by side over the course of a day, going back and forth, switching gears. I have always pictured this phenomenon like a boxer who goes into the ring, does what he needs to do, then comes back to his corner, collapses and gets the nurturing that then allows him to go back into the ring for yet another tough round.

Initially, children are all baby self. But soon the mature self begins to appear. Over time it grows until gradually it takes over more and more of our functioning. But it never takes over completely. Even the most mature among us has a baby self that asserts itself from time to time.

“I thought you were going to work on bills.”

“No, I decided to take a nap.”

“You’re sulking because we’re eating at a restaurant that wasn’t your choice.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you’re sulking.”

It is only in the baby-self mode that we and our children get the deep nurturing we all need. Without our baby selves—and without a safe place for our baby selves to rest—life would be way too hard. Our stress levels would be intolerable. This is especially so with children.

“Mom, I’m home. . . . Why are we out of salt and vinegar taco chips? I didn’t eat the last ones. . . . Mom, I can’t find the remote. Where’s the remote? Mom!”

Were there no opportunity for baby-self nurturing, there would be a stunting of emotional growth. Children need a place where they can fully be a child. And that place is with us, their parents.

Baby selves are generally good. They are cute, lovable, funny, and affectionate. But sometimes they are not so cute. Especially when baby selves are not getting their way. Then baby selves are not so cute at all.

“But why? Why not? Why? You have to give me a reason. Why not?” they goad us on.

Who Witnesses the Baby Self Most Often?

Another fact of human psychology well known to parents is that their mere presence is enough to bring out the baby self in their child.

Having stayed after school for extra help, Paula is with her algebra teacher, Mrs. Hendrickson.

“Well, Paula, I hope this extra time after school has helped you grasp what we have been doing in algebra.”

“Oh, yes, Mrs. Hendrickson. Thank you. It’s hard, but I think I’m getting it now. Thank you for staying after school to help me.”

At that moment, Paula’s mother appears in the classroom.

“Hi, dear. They said it would be okay if I came in to get you.”

“Mom! Why are you in here? You weren’t supposed to come in. I said I would meet you in the parking lot. Don’t you ever listen to what I say? Mom! Really!”

My goodness, thinks Mrs. Hendrickson. I’ve never seen this side of Paula.

This phenomenon, of course, is true of how we relate not only to our children but also to our significant others.

“Dad, why do you always lose your temper with me and Mom and never with anybody else, except when you are playing golf?”

Just the presence of our nearest and dearest brings out the baby self in us.

Alex, for instance, is always a good sport. He never complains during his basketball games or at practices. But as soon as he is in the car with his father for the drive back home, he lets loose. His remarks follow a game where he scored two points in limited playing time.

“Coach P. is such an asshole. He gives Billy so much playing time, just because Coach P. is friends with his parents, and Billy sucks. And when I do get in and was open like today, that little dick, Clement, never passes. He just wants to shoot—and he can’t shoot for shit. I’m going to quit basketball. I mean it.” (Which he never does.)

Let me ask a question that might help put your reaction to your child’s baby self in perspective: If it is good—even necessary—that there is a place for your teenager’s baby self, and if the baby self can be babyish, childish, and even downright unpleasant at times, wouldn’t you rather that your child’s baby self rear its unruly head at home with you rather than when he is out with others in public? Of course, you don’t have a choice because of the aforementioned psychological fact that whenever a parent is anywhere near their teenaged child, that child’s baby self will appear. But if you did have a choice, wouldn’t home be the better place for your child’s baby self to hang out?

Which Self Is Your Child’s Real Self?

There is another important question all of this stuff about baby selves and mature selves begs, and that is: Which of these two—the baby self (the one you get to see) or the mature self (the one others see, the one who has the same name as your kid and looks like her, but doesn’t match your description in any other way)—is the better indicator of who your child really is? And, more important, which of these two is the better indicator of who that child will become as an adult?

Fortunately, with the vast majority of teenagers, the answer is the mature self. And there is very strong proof of this. By the end of high school—if not before—teenagers tend to change. They become nice—not just to everyone else, but even to you—and they go out into the world and become perfectly good citizens. This is what has already happened with well over a generation of back-talking teens, who now make up a large portion of the adult world. And that world continues pretty much as it always has. Contrary to parental worries, the world has not been, nor will it be, taken over by a horde of barbarians as a result of this parenting style.

And this change—from back-talking teen to more or less mature adult—comes about not because parents, in the home stretch of high school, just before the finish line, are finally able to shape up their surly teenager, as they imagine they will.

“It was a tough task but finally—just in time, let me tell you—we were able to shape Carlton up. We had to put in a full court press right at the end, but we did it.”

Not at all. It happens because, as part of normal psychological development, teenagers move into the next major developmental stage: young adulthood. The good parenting that most parents do—but often do not realize they have been doing—kicks in. All the years of love, teaching, and, at times, being willing to set unpopular limits and make unpopular demands, bear fruit. Their mature side will prevail.

“Hello, I like you. I think you’re a good parent. You always have been, even if at times crazed. Also, I just want you to know that I agree with you, I drive too fast and I’ll try to control my speeding from now on. Also, if I spill something in the refrigerator, I’ll make sure I thoroughly clean up the mess.”

“You will?”

“Well, actually, I don’t know if I can promise the part about cleaning up the messes in the refrigerator.”

And all of this happens automatically as part of normal psychological development. It is not because on the last day of his son Barkley’s adolescence, his father finally figured out the lecture that would do the trick.

“Listen here, Mister. If you think for one minute that you can keep behaving the way you do toward me and your mother, well, think again, Buster! You will never be able to get married. You will never be able to hold down a job. Well, just think about that.”

And Barkley, impressed by his father’s words, says,

“Gosh, Dad. I feel bad for you and Mom. What you say makes complete sense. I only wish you had told me sooner so that I could have been better toward you two. Of course I’ll change. You’ll see. Thanks, Dad.”

No, it is not because of that.

But if it is true that most teenagers—even pretty obnoxious ones—grow into good citizens who are friendly to you, what does that say about the often unpleasant baby-self behavior that you have to endure over the course of your child’s adolescence?

For one, baby-self behavior does not necessarily mean that there is anything especially wrong with your child. Nor is there anything necessarily wrong with the way you have been parenting. Mainly, your teenager’s unpleasant baby-self behavior is nothing more than that: unpleasant behavior comes out because at home and with you, he or she feels safe enough for that to happen.

“Never Give Up!”: The Baby Self’s Motto

Fortunately, as mentioned earlier, there is something that you can do to significantly decrease the unpleasant back talk and fussing that you experience with your teenager. This relates directly to one overwhelming characteristic of baby selves: when a baby self is not getting its way, a baby self will say anything, do anything, to change that. But, failing to get its way, a baby self will go on and on forever. And I do mean forever.

“No. I’m sorry, Sarah. No, and that’s final. Do you understand me? That is it.”

“But why? You don’t understand. Why not?”

“Sarah, we’ve already been over this. No, I’m sorry. No.”

“But why? Why not?”

“Sarah!”

“But why not? You have to give me a good reason. It’s because you hate me, isn’t it?”

“Sarah, that’s ridiculous, I don’t hate you.”

“Yes, you do. Then give me a good reason.”

“Sarah, I’ve given you a good reason.”

“No, you haven’t. All you’ve given me is a stupid reason.”

“Sarah, I do not want to hear any more about it.”

“But why not? Why?”

And should Sarah’s mother go into another room, Sarah and her baby self would follow. Even if Sarah’s mother put a closed and locked door between herself and her daughter, that wouldn’t stop the pleas from coming.

“But why not? Why? Why not? Mom, are you listening to me? Can you hear me? Why not? Mom!”

When baby selves are not getting their way, they do not let go. It’s as if they cannot move forward. They are stuck. They just hold on. They simply won’t relent. What baby selves abhor beyond anything else is to separate, to disengage. When baby selves are not getting their way, they cannot let go.

This, more than anything else, is the basis of most of the advice in this book.

You cannot say “Stop. Shut up. That’s it. Finis. Enough, and I mean it. This is going to end—now. I mean it. Finis” to a baby self who is not getting her way and seriously expect her to back off.

It is not going to happen.

And, of course, if we let it, the baby self who will not quit will ultimately bring out our own baby self, who will not let go either.

Here’s a perfect example of such an exchange between a father and his teenaged daughter:

“Don’t you dare talk to me that way, young lady.”

“I’ll talk to you any way I want.”

“You just better watch it.”

“What are you going to do, hit me? You would like that.”

“You’re just going to have to control your mouth before somebody does smack you.”

“You’re just mad because you can’t control me anymore.”

“You’re going to have to learn to respect adults. How do you think you’re ever going to make it in the world with a mouth like that?”

“I’m going to do fine. I certainly don’t need your fucking approval.”

“You are really pushing it.”

“You’re pushing it.”

There you have it: two baby selves in action, and neither is anywhere close to letting go.

So what does this fact about baby selves say about parenting teenagers? What it says is that when going against your teenage child’s wishes, the greatest wisdom is to say what you have to say, do what you have to do, and then stop—because they will not. An overwhelmingly valuable skill in the parenting of today’s teenagers is learning to disengage—sooner rather than later.

Adolescence: A Necessary Stage

Before talking any further about how to deal with your teenager, it is extremely useful to understand that much of your child’s behavior is the direct result of a powerful and inevitable developmental phenomenon: the advent of adolescence. Much of your child’s defiant behavior with you is not about their reaction to you personally, but rather it’s about the nature of adolescence itself. It is also not something that you can change. But fortunately it is something that does end, albeit in its own time when it is good and ready and has run its course. Not a moment before.

Adolescence is the convergence of a number of major developmental changes within a relatively short period of time. Teenagers begin to inhabit new bodies. They do not just get bigger, but with the advent of their secondary sex characteristics—developing breasts and hips with girls, losing baby fat and growing new body hair with boys—they rather swiftly take on a much more adult look. If a teenager you know but have not seen for a few months goes through a growth spurt, you’ll probably recognize the phenomenon before you’ll even recognize the teen. It is very striking.

“Who is this person? Randy, are you you?”

“Yeah? What? Why?”

With their new bodies, teenagers suddenly become far more aware of and far more self-conscious about how they look.

Prior to adolescence, a ten-year-old boy confronting a mirror would likely prompt this exchange:

“What is that thing called?”

“It’s a mirror, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I never noticed it before. What is it used for?”

But once he becomes an adolescent, this same boy knows very well what a mirror is for.

“Omigod, I think my nose turns a little to the left. Mom! Does my nose turn a little to the left?”

“Your nose looks like your nose.”

“Mom, I’m serious!”

“I can’t see anything. It doesn’t look like it turns either way. It’s fine.”

“No, Mom, look at it!”

They are very serious.

Another change among adolescents is that they not only get smarter but they also make whole new cognitive advances that enable them to understand things in a much more adult way. Suddenly you have to watch what you say because what used to go right over their heads is now something they pick up on far more readily.

“Aunt Theresa sure has had a lot of boyfriends since her divorce from Uncle Ed. Is she a slut?”

“Lainie, don’t use that word.”

“So she is?”

The third and most dramatic change of all is that they develop sexuality. They now not only have the ability to reproduce, but they also have sexual feelings in a way that they simply did not before. Their world is transformed. Much of what was neutral to them now becomes sexualized. This new dimension makes everything in their lives forever different. This is a very big change indeed.

“Dad, why do they call it a breast of chicken. That’s so weird.”

“I don’t know, Lawrence. I never thought about it. That’s what they call it.”

“It doesn’t look like a breast. It doesn’t have nipples.”

“That’s enough, Lawrence.”

“It feels weird touching it if it’s a breast.”

“That’s enough, Lawrence.”

The Allergy All Teens Develop

There is one last change—a purely psychological one—that warrants discussion before we move on. It’s a change that, more than anything else, determines why adolescents act as they do, and especially why they act as they do with their parents. That change—a part of normal human development—is the adolescent mandate: I must see myself as an independent, adultlike being. It is no longer acceptable for me to experience myself as a dependent little kid.

The advent of this mandate makes sense, because in just a few years they will have to be out on their own, where they will not be successful if they still feel like dependent little children. This need to see oneself as an independent, adultlike entity is fine. It is necessary. But there is just one problem with it: up until this time there was this person or persons for whom they had strong love, attachment, and dependency feelings—namely, their parent or parents. But now those strong love, attachment, and dependency feelings make them feel like a dependent little kid. And that is no longer okay. In fact, it is a big problem. The result is what we recognize as adolescence.

The following example illustrates the point:

Fifteen-year-old James is sitting by himself on a couch in the family room watching television. He is very relaxed until his mother, who says nothing, enters the room. Immediately his body tenses. He is no longer relaxed. He starts moving around nervously on the couch. I thought maybe I left my glasses in here, but I guess I didn’t, his mom thinks as she turns and leaves the room.

James immediately goes back to being relaxed. He’d have the very same reaction in any similar circumstance where he is alone in a room that his mother enters. She comes in, he’s agitated. She leaves, he’s back to being relaxed.

This is not a conscious process. His mother’s mere presence brings out in James the strong love, attachment, dependency feelings that he has always had toward her. Previously these feelings were not an issue: he loved his mother. He still does. But now, as part of the normal, newly arisen adolescent mandate, all of this is no longer okay.

His mother’s appearance in the room creates inside of James an internal conflict, a very real physical tension. And this is true for both boys and girls. Just the presence of a parent creates this tangible discomfort. Were we to watch through a one-way mirror, we would see: parent not there; child in relaxed state. Parent there; child feeling tense and fidgety.

But let’s say that in this particular instance, James’s mother does an even worse thing: after entering the room, James’s mother fails to leave quickly. And not only does she stay, but she speaks too. She says her son’s name.

“James.”

“What?” he says in an aggravated tone of voice.

“Don’t talk to me in that tone of voice.”

“What tone of voice?”

“That tone of voice.”

“I’m not talking in a tone of voice.”

But he is. And they go on from there. Why is he being so rude? After all, his mother was only saying his name. Again, it is not intentional on James’s part. His mother’s coming into the room had made him quite tense. But now she’s not only in the room, she’s staying in the room. And not only is she staying in the room, but now she is actually speaking to him! Under such trying circumstances, under such considerable stress, it is very hard to speak in anything other than a tense, unpleasant-sounding manner.

“You speak to me as if you don’t even think I’m human.”

“I am too speaking to you like you’re human.”

But—like I said—he’s not.

Now let me turn this incident into an outright horror story. Let’s say that on this particular occasion, James’s mother decides that she is going to have some quality mother-and-son time. And so, after entering the room, she goes over to the couch and sits down next to her beloved son. What’s worse, she puts her arm around him. This, as we know by now, is just too much for poor James. He gets up and leaves. His mother is heartbroken. She’s devastated. She feels so rejected. She was just reaching out to her darling son. What had she done wrong?

For an answer, let us go back in time to when James was ten years old. As in the scene just described, James’s mother comes into the room and sits down next to her son. And, as above, she puts her arm around him. But this time he is just ten. And, as a ten-year-old, James is quite relaxed. He likes his mother sitting next to him. In fact, at ten years old he might well have been the one to initiate the closeness, putting his head on his mother’s shoulder before she motioned to do so.

And let’s say—as more often than not is the case—in the intervening years between James at ten and James at fifteen, James’s mother had not done anything especially wrong. She had been a good mother. She had not made any major parenting mistakes. What happened to change this loving ten-year-old child into a fifteen-year-old who literally could not stand being in the same room as his mother?

The answer, of course, is the dawning of adolescence. As part of their normal development process, the vast majority of teenagers develop a temporary allergy to their parents.

Everything about their parents aggravates them.

“Dad, do you have to breathe that way?”

And the child’s poor father, who had previously paid no attention to his breathing, is self-conscious about it for the rest of his life.

Your tone of voice, which had always been a source of reassurance and pleasure, now seems infinitely irritating.

“Mom, do you have to talk that way?”

“What way?”

“The way you do. Can’t you talk some other way that isn’t so irritating?”

“But it’s the way I’ve always talked my whole life.”

“Well, can’t you change it?”

“But it’s the way I talk.”

“See, there it is. The way you just talked. It gets on my nerves.”

And, as discussed earlier, just your being there is a problem.

“Must you?”

“What?”

“Be here.”

Finally, one of the most difficult things all parents of teenagers swiftly learn is that their child considers just being seen with them in public to be the ultimate humiliation.

Leanna and her mother are at the mall.

“Pretend you don’t know me.”

“What?”

“I just saw Jessica and Kimmy go into that store. Pretend you don’t know me.”

“But I’m your mother.”

“Omigod, I’m going to have to hide. I’ll see you later. This is so humiliating.”

They are allergic to you. It is the quintessential adolescent dilemma. What are they supposed to do about all the unacceptable love, attachment, and dependency feelings that are created just by your very existence, let alone your presence? Especially when other people see it too?

There are two classic teenage solutions—one preferred by boys, the other by girls.

The boys’ way involves absence. They simply choose not to be there. They’re out of the house or in their room with the door closed. And when they are there, they are evasive or they mumble. They’re as invisible as they can be even though they’re present.

“Michael, did you put your dirty clothes in with the laundry?”

“Mmbf.”

“I didn’t understand you. Did you put your dirty clothes in with the laundry?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Michael? Where’d he go? He was standing right here. Michael?”

The boys’ solution to the unacceptable love, attachment, and dependency feelings they have toward their parents is simple—they create as much distance as possible. In their room. Out of the house. And even when they are with you, they are as uncommunicative as they can be. It is very much like a wall going up.

The girls’ way, by contrast, involves combativeness. It’s as if they are telling themselves, Anything you say I will disagree with or yell at. And in regard to your irritating presence, I will regularly let you know how irritating it is.

“Renee, did you put your dirty clothes in the laundry?”

“Why do you always have to be at me about stuff when I’m in the middle of doing something?”

“But you’re not doing anything.”

“I am too! Just because it doesn’t look like it. That is so rude! Everything has to be when you want it. You are so inconsiderate of anything that is going on in my life! The whole world does not revolve around your convenience.”

“Revolve around my convenience?”

“What? Are you implying something? Are you saying I’m inconsiderate? What do you mean?”

If you are a girl you deal with unacceptable love, attachment, and dependency feelings toward your parents by simply declaring your independence moment by moment and by doing it in their face. “What do you mean? Are you criticizing me? You are the most difficult mother in the world!”

What can be so maddening is that with many teens this allergy seems to wax and wane. Some of the time—perhaps because they are temporarily feeling a little more secure about themselves, about their own independence or about their own integrity—they seem to tolerate, maybe even like, being with you.

“See, Mom? Isn’t this nice? Just you and me talking? We should do more of this.”

“We should?”

But it is truly unpredictable. It comes and goes.

“Renee, what do you think would be nice for supper?”

“What? I don’t care. Why ask me? Whatever you make, I’m probably not going to like it.”

It leaves you questioning yourself time and again. She was so nice ten minutes ago. What did I do?

“I thought we were friends.”

“Why would I want to be friends with you?”

Like I said, it comes and goes.

Remember Not to Take It Personally

To keep your sanity, just remember this: it is not personal. It is adolescence. It is part of normal psychological development. Much of the time, the person your child is responding to is not you at all but a projection of you that comes from deep inside of themselves: an image of you as the parent who won’t let them go—even though it is they who can’t let go of you! The parent who is so much a part of them, they wish they could expel you from inside of themselves. The parent who, simply by existing, makes them feel like a little kid.

“Mom, omigod, there’s that look that you have. It is so annoying. If you only knew! Why are you looking at me?”

“Actually, I was looking at the lamp.”

“Yeah, right.”

But take heart, sooner or later adolescence ends. As part of normal psychological development, your teen will move into the next major developmental stage. They will become young adults. During their adolescence, they will have gotten genuine psychological distance from you. You no longer compromise their sense of psychological independence. The adolescent allergy evaporates. They become nice again.

“Hello. What’s for supper? Mom, you’re hair looks nice.”

“Renee, is that you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re friendly, my darling.”

It can seem like a miracle. But it’s not. While adolescence is incurable—there really is nothing you can do to change it—it does pass with time.

I imagine that about now you are asking yourselves the obvious question: “So if back talk is inevitable, allergies to me and my spouse are to be expected, and my kids will likely grow up to be good, productive citizens despite this phase of ‘normal’ development, how do I cope in the meantime?”

For starters, you have to treat adolescence like a cold—or any other illness that has to run its course. You must do your best to reduce the symptoms. As you will read in the following pages, the key to having a more pleasant time with your teenage child largely rests in learning the skill of disengagement.

Let me get right down to it with a discussion of that most basic of all parent-child interactions: saying “No.”