Neither Great Nor Horrible

It's been a long day and I'm tired. We made it to Florida but not without major fireworks along the way.

Just normal teenager stuff, I guess.

It was hard to have my sister in law come up and nail Ben's outrageous sense of privilege. I mean, she had only spent a couple hours with him. But she's right. It does ooze out of his pores.

Because so much of the family is down here right now, we're actually staying at a hotel. It's a little odd to be here on the beach instead of our usual space. I'm sitting on a balcony, though, and listening to the waves crash.

It's a nice change of pace.

I had a terrible moment with Ben this morning. It made me feel like I was no better than my mother in the parenting world. Maybe worse because so many people think so highly of my thoughtfulness.

I was not thoughtful.

The irony? My mother would have cut me slack, soothed me, and said I did the best I could. She was generally very kind about my parenting.

It's not about me, though. an easy place to slink to for comfort- I'm a bad person- instead of realizing it's a hard moment in Ben's life. He's struggling, anxious and afraid.

And he's still a boy in so many ways.

Except when he uses the "f" word with me.

He's a good boy. I'm a good parent. Neither of us are great. Neither horrible. Just average and trying our best to figure out the world.

Tomorrow, we will hit the beach. The Floridians we are visiting rarely like the beach in "winter" but luckily there are many other folks here, all from cold climates and dying for the sea breeze and sunshine.

It'll be okay.

I hope.

Happy New Year?

I have reached a level of insanity that is not healthy. Today is Rosh Hashanah. In our public school district, we get the day off- along with Yom Kippur. The kids are thrilled- a day off and they don’t have to do anything because we are not Jewish.

We are Unitarian, Zachary pointed out. We could celebrate if we wanted to.

I nodded. We could.

A restless pack of teenage boys showed up at my house. They are all way too comfortable here. I was lying down upstairs in my room with a terrible headache. I had just downed a couple Advil. Suddenly, there were boys in my bedroom, yammering away at me, messing with my cats, who were of course on the bed, too.

I would like to know where the fear of the evils of lesbianism resides in these kids!

They wanted me to drive them to a movie. Or pick them up. Something. I said, My head hurts. Can you see I’m lying down here?

Yeah, just a ride one-way.

I paused. I thought about what gave me the headache. I thought about the insane markets going up today- NO NO NO, you stupid idiots, we need to go down. Lower. Or stay even. But even I have to agree with President Bush on a day like today- you’re all acting drunk.

No, I said. We have on demand. Go pick a movie and hang out. I’ll get you pizza. You don’t need to be spending 8 bucks a piece at a movie theater when we have plenty of movies here.

Somehow, the crowd grew a bit larger by the time I walked downstairs to order. Hmm.

Forty bucks and a house full of teenagers later, I realize I have clearly lost my mind.

The Senate promises action. The markets go up. When the Senate fails to pass something? The markets will crash. If they pass it? We’ll be back in La La land again, where earnings are not only unachievable, the money being thrown at them is unsustainable.

Then the House Republicans, enjoying their moment of historic glory, will vote it down again. The market will tank again. The American people remained glued to the news while people on Wall Street continue to make some seriously big money.

It’s ironic, that today starts the High Holidays, the beginning of a new year. I am not sure how this year will turn out. What will happen to our country as we face a defining crisis of our generation?

No doubt, we are headed towards a few more days of awe- my guess is a few more than the ten between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

I doubt there will be any atonement happening on Capitol Hill or Wall Street in ten days, or ten years.

I can’t keep up. I’m not sure I want to.

Middle School Picnic

I was allowed- and yes, I do mean allowed- to go to Ben's middle school picnic today for his "team" at school. The 6th grade is divided into three teams- Yellow, Orange and Red.

Ben is on Orange and today was a day at a park very close to our house for a BBQ and hanging out in the sun. Parents were asked to volunteer to bring some of the extras- sodas, chips, desserts- and come by if they wanted.

I signed up for sodas and stopping by. Ben looked at the slip and said, NO WAY.

Oh, come on, I won't talk to any of your friends.

Well...

ONLY if you bring soda and PROMISE not to talk to me at all.

Deal.

NOT AT ALL, Mom.

I know. Got it. I'll chat with the teachers.

He was a bundle of nerves last night but managed to not get in too serious of trouble. This morning, the soda list was given to me along with the reminder not to talk to him.

Got it.

After witnessing what felt like genetic-pituitary madness, I decided Middle School is the single most awkward time of your life. There was one boy who was over 6 feet tall and several of the girls who were barely over 4 feet tall. Boys who were all bones and limbs, and girls who were so filled out I wasn't sure if they were students or classroom aides.

Until they started to talk and then I knew the familiar lilt of sassy-knowitall- obnoxiousness that only comes from a 12 year old.

Not a single one of the 80 kids were even remotely comfortable with their bodies. They moved as if they were only half under control of the steaming pit of hormones inside them.

There were the quiet girls who brought books to read- they broke my heart. I remember being painfully shy. There were the table of mean girls- you knew they were tearing everyone apart, laughing at people and completely full of themselves. Tough boys, a few terribly shy boys who didn't even bring books to read but wandered around the edges watching.

The one new twist from when I was in middle school was the sports playing. It was completely co-ed, girls and boys playing basketball, baseball. In my day, I was almost always the only girl who played ball. It was great to see.

I helped set up the table for food. I chatted with teachers and other parents. Ben was not to be seen.

After lunch, he came up to me. Mom, bring Beanie.

Huh?

Bring Beanie over.

How would you ask that?

Please... please bring Beanie over.

Ok.

I was amazed he spoke to me so I went to get the dog. I did a few things around the house- dishes put away, folded a load of laundry- and Ben called me.

Mom... where are you?

On my way.

Recently, it's been clear that having parents- especially gay parents- is mortifying for Ben. He's uncomfortable with it and I'm guessing most of his new friends do not know. It's why he didn't want me to go in the first place.

It was nice to have him call and want me there.

Okay, he wanted the dog there, not me.

Beanie and I arrived. Ben ran over to get her leash and immediately became the center of attention. The shy girls put their books down and came and pet her. The awkward boys ran over to pet her. Ask her name. What kind of dog is she...

Mom... what kind of dog is she again?

He spoke to me in front of his friends. Whoa.

Golden mixed. She's a little of everything.

I was called into action when she did her business on the field- picking up poop seems to be one of my callings in life. Other than that, I went and sat on a shady bench.

Eventually, Ben tired of parading Beanie around and brought her over to me. The kids, however, didn't tire of petting the dog and asking questions. She is so demure and gentle even the most timid kids made it over at least once.

Watching those kids today gave me a new sense of empathy for Ben. The girl he used to "date" hounded him relentlessly around the yard. His buddy he's known forever- a goofy boy whose body is being completely driven by sugar and impulse with no volume control- danced around him suggesting a million different things to do.

He kept it all together, remaining cool, aloof and annoyed by everything and everyone. I know his fears about being different, not fitting in, desperately wishing he was like everyone else. A storm of uncertainly brews inside him and he is only just beginning to learn how do deal with it.

On the outside, today? He pulled it off masterfully.

And if you're ever feeling old, fat, insecure, unsure, or generally pathetic? Go to a Middle School at the end of the day and watch the kids file out.

If nothing else, it'll give you a little perspective.

Too Nice, Too Sunny

Today, I was in charge of lock down. That meant being the one at home to follow through with the punishment de jour.

Ben "lost" his clarinet book which meant he could not practice his clarinet. If Jeanine and I had been born, say, yesterday, we would have believed him.

But, alas, we were not.

So, until he "found" the clarinet book, he could not leave the house. That seemed to require his responding with some language not fit to reprint.

Next stop? His room.

Jeanine, Zachary and Jake went to the mall to spend some hard earned allowance dollars. The mall, if you couldn't guess, is Ben's favorite place in the world.

But they were there and he was not. That made my young charge even more unhappy.

I thought about taking out Zachary's saxophone and playing "Swing lo... Sweet Chariot..." mournfully.

Instead, I took take my jailer duty to the porch outside my office. Read the New York Times. Got some sun.

Hummed my song. Thought about buying the sheet music for clarinet so Ben could have something to play when he is in his cell.

Sorry. Room.

Yup. I've been in one of those really good, can't be beaten down kind of moods. It's too nice and too sunny.

Next time? I'm going to bet he doesn't ditch his music book.

IM Madness

What does a 12 year old on vacation want to do?

IM. Instant message. All day. All night.

Now, I'm no stranger to IMing. I have a virtual office, and there are people I check in with daily, if nothing more than a joke or a 'water cooler' conversation. It keeps me connected and when you're working alone, it's nice to have that sense of community.

Ben puts me to shame. I can handle two, maybe three conversations. Ben had about five going on last night. I was watching- and reading- over his shoulder. He claimed to have a facebook account- he does not. He claimed to have a two week vacation- he does not. He also claimed that I was going to torture him with a haircut.

100% true. I did.

The computer he is allowed to use- another long story about one he is NOT allowed to use- has time limits set for being online. Once the time is reached, he has to get me to go on as administrator and add more time.

Last night at 10:15pm? I said no more. Go read a book.

After we returned from the haircut- which looks great- he came running into my office.

MOM. I need more time.

Go outside, Ben.

But Mom...

No, later on but not right now.

But I'm talking to [girl A]. And [girl b]. And [girl c]. And...

Ben, go outside.

He left the office, distressed that he would have to say "brb."

Less than five minutes later, he returned, triumphant.

Mom. Don't worry. I'm IMing on my phone.

I was worried? I don't remember being worried.

I think I have problems. I can only imagine sitting in Hillary Clinton's shoes today. A vote in Wisconsin and Hawaii, two places she probably never imagined would be so potent a few months ago.

Gay Teen Killed

A fifteen year old boy was shot at school yesterday. He died later last night.

He was openly gay. Routinely teased, threatened and abused.

This time, one of the other boys made good on his threats. First period English class.

I can remember knowing I was a lesbian when I was 15 years old. Afraid, ashamed, I kept the secret and told only one friend. I thought my mother would disown me (she did when first hearing it), my friends would hate me (some did, some didn't), and that I would be alone for the rest of my life.

I never thought anyone would shoot me.

Not when I was 15.

Storm Ahead...

I was talking to a friend last night that said she had started a new job 9 days ago and immediately her two young kids got sick and she’s been home with them.

Ah, I remember the days.

My kids don’t get sick very often anymore.

They were so sweet when they were little with a fever. You just wanted to hold them the whole time. You feel so bad for them, their listlessness.

Then they get older.

Case in point, last night.

You see, I know my friend with the two sick little ones who can only promise her new employer really, really, she’s a good worker and will do the great job she was hired to do, that someday, it’ll all be different.

It will be different, Susan. How? Well…

Jeanine and I went out last night. Had some lovely oysters down at B&G’s, the single best place in Boston to have a few shucked for you. We met up with Walter and another friend, ordered plates and plates of oysters from Prince Edward Island, New Brunswick, Washington State. We topped it off with crab beignets with a light mustard sauce, slice of orange, fennel and olive. Add a couple glasses of a great Gruner Veltliner- crisp, bright, a hint of citrus to match the oyster’s perfectly- and we were in heaven.

Walking back to the car, hand in hand, feeling the love, things were looking good.

Guess who is up at 11PM when we walk in the door.

Ben.

Now, I know I’ve been picking on Ben lately. I love my son. I do. He is a good kid, with a big heart and can be the kindest soul at times.

And then there was last night.

Who hasn't finished his homework?

Ben.

His half hour on the computer had finished (then it locks him out) because he used it to listen to iTunes, and then when he needed to type his paper, no luck. The baby sitter suggests he writes it up by hand, so he can type it in the morning- oh no. That won't do.

Zachary- ever the middle child- offers his time (they all get 1/2 hour). Ben said, NOOOOOOOOOO.

11PM, there he sits, on his bed, screaming at Jeanine that it is HER fault because SHE locks the computer...

I honestly think I am going to need a Valium drip to get through the teen years. What the hell am I going to do when Zachary starts acting this way?

Another friend said to me today, You know, we’re all working on time management skills. He’s only 12. Take it easy. Work with him and remember some of this is his way of getting attention from you. It’s that push pull of adolescence.

When I calm, like after running three miles or swimming a mile, I get it. I do. I know he’s trying to figure out how to be popular, how to keep acne away and how to do his homework.

Homework is definitely last on the list.

I was 12 once.

I’m trying to find ways to help him negotiate his new, unfolding world of responsibility and to let him have enough freedom to make his own mistakes. I can’t save him from teen angst nor do I particularly want to. I think it’s healthy to struggle. I think we learn frustration tolerance through not having everything go smoothly.

He’s 12. I can’t keep holding his hand. It scares me when parents don’t let kids fail or try to mend every hurt feeling. Sometimes, things suck. They hurt.

And, eventually, it gets better.

I know he’s trying to figure it all out. So am I. I have never had a 12-year-old child before. I certainly don’t know how to do the math they do now. I’m not always the best at time management either.

But when it’s 11PM at night and I’m full of romantic notions of getting to spend some time with my wife, it’s really hard to be calm, even and know the right thing to say.

Jeanine told him to go to bed; we were not having one more moment of discussion. She told him she would set her alarm for 5:30AM- and did- so he could finish in the morning.

Tears streaming down his face, she shut the door. He loudly proclaimed, from behind the door, how much he hated the two of us.

I miss the times when their struggle was simple. They had a fever, or a cold, and snuggled up next to you on the couch, just wanting to be held.

I could make the world better with some Advil, a blanket, and the comforting sound of my heart beating, their head resting on my chest.

I’m clueless as to what I can do to help my son grow into a healthy young man. I’m navigating my own stormy waters of unknown, just as he is. When do I let go? When do I hold tight?

And when do I need to realize it is completely out of my hands…