When it comes to teens, God is brilliant!

“… and on the 4,745^th day (13 years), God created teenagers, and all hell broke loose.”

OK, maybe that’s not the EXACT biblical passage, but in MY book, it’s life, verbatim.

As the story goes, I birthed and raised two daughters who are now teens. One’s in college, the other in high school. My nest is half empty. (Or is it half full?) I remember with a swollen heart when these once-darling, precious, obedient angels were the sun that I revolved around. Motherhood was the best job I had ever had, and even though a mom never really clocks out, I couldn’t wait to wake up every morning to clock in.

Somewhere between the age of 12 and the aging of me from countless adolescent battles over cleaning rooms and doing homework and sassing back, the gravitational pull has weakened. It’s not that I’m counting the days until the last daughter leaves for college (about 744, in case you’re interested), but I am looking forward to life, rebooted. 

Sometimes I feel guilty wanting to reclaim my life, B.C. (before children); after all, I will be a mother forever, and I can’t abandon my post now. But then I realize it is God’s plan all along. He’s brilliant! He knows how hard it is for mothers to let go, to release their babes, unprotected, out into the big, wild world. 

And that’s why he created teenagers . . . to make the “letting go” process downright exhilarating. 

Lest you think I am heartless, when I dropped my oldest daughter off at college for the first time, I cried like the baby she once was. So hard, so deeply primal, I had to pull over to the side of the road because I couldn’t see through my torrent of tears. 

“She grew up so fast! I still have so much left to teach her! Where did my baby go?” I literally shouted in agony. Then, the most disturbing realization, “Where did MY life go?” 

But then days passed, weeks went by, and within a month, I had adjusted to life without her under my roof, and so had she. Texting, Skyping, phone calls and e-mails . . . technology became the ties that bind.

I am already preparing for that day when my home, my children’s womb, contracts and spits out the last daughter into the world -- her wide, open expanse to play in and grow in.

It will be a time for sadness. A time for reflection. A time to celebrate.

A time for rebirth.

Tom Fletcher's Wedding Speech

Communication between me and my oldest teenager, for whom I originally started this blog, is sporadic, at best.  See, she's away at college, and checking in with mom is not a high priority next to cramming for tests, working, an internship and of course, a boyfriend.

Every now and then, like today, we make a strong connection inadvertently through a Facebook post.  She posted this video on my wall, and while it was a long one -- about 15 minutes -- it was worth every second to wacth it. 

All I can say, Honey, is that THIS is what I hope for you someday: To find a man who is as devoted to you and who adores you as much as Tom Fletcher does his new bride.

No rush, though.  Get your degree and settle into your career first, right?

Winging It With Teens

       Motherhood is a work in progress; a lifelong dedication to on-the-job training. Our children aren't born clutching Owner's Manuals, so as parents, most times we are winging it when it comes to raising them.

My oldest daughter, who goes to college out of state, is home for the summer. She did a lot of growing up this last year while she was away at school, and I am bursting with pride for her. Straight A’s her freshmen year, can you believe it? But she also balanced books with her share of fun, too. Frat parties, football games – the whole nine yards.

        I'm thrilled that she is home right now and I get to play at being her mom again. But quite frankly, I'm a little confused about my role with her.  She is in that “tween” stage again -- nearly 19 years old, but not quite a legal adult.  Or, as she says, "I'm old enough to vote, watch porn and go to war.  But I can't drink."

She still asks for my permission to go out at night, for which I feel both grateful and extremely guilty.  It’s nice to know that, in her eyes, her mom still has some control over choices she makes.

But should I ‘fess up? If she only knew that when I was her age, there is NO WAY I would have ever sought my mother’s permission to go out with my friends.  I had my own car, made my own money, my own apartment.  I had completely vacated the nest. 

If she only knew how easy it would be to declare her independence. All she has to say is, “Mom, I’m 18. I can do what I want.” Part of me -- that young girl who was 18 at one time, too -- wants her to play that card; but another part of me hopes she doesn’t quite yet.  I still worry about her and foolishly think that I can still protect her.

Tonight she wants to go out with some old high school friends who are back in town for the summer, too.  A reunion, no problem there.  But there’s a catch:  They are going to a gay bar downtown. See, one of her friends is gay, the rest are straight, and he has convinced them it would be fun to hang out at a gay dance club.

She asked me if she could go. (Again, she really didn’t need to.)  So I played the “mom role” expected of me. I grumbled incoherently about it not being a good choice, and that I was concerned about her being out that late.  She said they just wanted to go dance and have fun.  

I had to repress every ounce of my mother’s instinct to say, “OK,” but I really don’t have much of a say here at all.  The reality is, my daughter is all grown up, and I need to trust her to make good decisions on her own.

Yes, as parents we are winging it most of the time.  But there comes a time, no matter how much it pains us, when we need to push our children out of the nest so they can take flight, too.

She's Got Mail!

When my teenager walks into her room tonight, she's going to see a stack of unopened envelopes on her bed that have been piling up for the last week while she's been down in Southern California visiting her dad for Thanksgiving break. She is being courted by a number of our country's finest colleges and universities with the fervency of a horny suitor. First they send the letters, then they follow those up with a flood of e-mails. Gosh, she sure is popular. Imagine if they really knew her -- I'd have a damn riot on my hands!

I'm excited for my daughter and this college shopping spree she gets to go on. I've been telling her all along that the world is her oyster, she can be all that she can be and to shoot for the stars. (You'd be surprised at how many cliches actually apply toward raising teenagers.) While her grades aren't impressive enough to get her into Harvard, Stanford or Yale (which she has no interest in, anyway), they are good enough to get her into a decent liberal arts college or university.

I will continue to encourage her to get good grades and to set her sights high, but secretly, I'm panicking. I'm not sure I can afford to send her off to the college of her dreams! The ex and I started her life with good intentions and had some sort of college fund set up that was tied in with our life insurance or something and such, but I was a new mom and wasn't really paying attention. How could I be thinking of college for my baby daughter when I was just happy to get through to the next feeding? Add a new sister into the mix, a divorce, a complete restructuring of the family nest, my nip-and-tuck years as a single mom and suddenly we've come screeching up to this junction in our lives: my baby daughter is now a junior in high school, poised to go off to college in two years, and I have no idea how I'm going to afford it.

Of course the ex-husband and I will split the cost, so that helps. But still, it makes me wonder how many parents really save for their children's college educations. It's something you hear you're supposed to do the minute they cut the umbilical cord, so say all the best financial advisors. But I think many of us parents think there's plenty of time, don't we? "Why not start saving for college tomorrow? Or maybe a few years from now? There's no rush. Besides, we need that money NOW!"

Well, folks, I'm running out of time. How about you? I don't have the heart to tell my teenager that she may not be able to go to the college of her choice. Too risky this close to finals, with SATS right around the corner. Besides, I'm still optimistic. I believe it will all work out for her, somehow. Life always seems to go that way.

I have to remember that I went to the college of my dreams on sheer determination and resourcefulness alone. My parents didn't help with my out-of-state tuition, but I somehow pulled it together through grants, loans, various scholarships, work-study programs and two years as a resident assistant, which covered my room and board.

I have faith in my daughter that in the 11th hour, she, too, will be able to piece it all together and not let ANYTHING deter her from pursuing her chosen education. That attitude seemed to work well for her mom.

But just in case, I'll be buying a lottery ticket tomorrow.

Related articles by Zemanta

• Top Universities Get More Selective, but Offer Better Return on Investment (blogs.wsj.com)
• How endowment donations grow with investment returns (blogs.reuters.com)
• Pestering Parents: The Admissions Office Perspective (thechoice.blogs.nytimes.com)

Promises, Promises

Moms make lots of promises. We promise to save for our child’s college education while they’re young, and never miss a school play. We even make promises that are impossible to keep, like the time I promised my daughter she could kiss Joe Jonas on the cheek. But a promise I made recently feels real.

I promised to be present to my two oldest children for the next four years. They started high school last week. High School! I’m still having a problem even saying the word. It was OK to be a parent of teens when they were in middle school, but now they’re in high school. A place where kids are driving cars, having sex (even if their parents refuse to believe it) and planning for college.

In just four short years, my first two children will be gone. It’s a scary reality, particularly when I think about how fast the last 12 years passed. Four years is nothing. It’s a presidential term, the time between Olympic ceremonies. Jeez, by the time the Olympic torch is lit in London, my children won’t be on the couch watching the opening ceremonies with me. They might not even be in the same state if my son and daughter get into their first-choice colleges. So I want to spend the next four years relishing in every bit of physical and emotional growing they’ll experience. I want to understand their challenges as they study for exams, support them when they’re heartbroken, fell their fear when they drive for the first time, (I can definitely do this one!) and share in their happiness when they get a fat envelope from a college. (Fat envelopes signify a student has been accepted to a college.)

Sooner, rather than later, my children will leave home and take the journey that I’ve worked so hard to prepare them for. Then it will be their turn to deliver on the most important promise I made many years ago and prove to me that they have grown into healthy, happy and confident adults.

By Maria Bailey