I never did that
We were all perfect teenagers, right?
As the days of our youth recede farther and farther into the past, it becomes easier and easier to pass judgment on those who are still fighting the bloody, gut-wrenching, heart-rending, tear-jerking battle commonly referred to as adolescence.
Like when they forget for the umpteenth time to tell you about a parent-teacher conference until a few hours beforehand, so you have to scramble to change your plans at the last minute. Why can’t she just remember to tell you on time?
Your daughter leaves her math book at school consistently, including on the weekend before a big test. How could anyone be so scatterbrained? Doesn’t she realize how important that test is? Especially since she’s already struggling in math.
And then of course there’s the ongoing dance of the dirty dishes. What is that plate doing on the coffee table when it should be in the dishwasher? I think we all know the answer to that one.
It’s easy to forget how misbehaved we all were when we were younger. I try to remind my husband of these things when our kids are, well, less than perfect. He seems to have flushed that information out of his memory, although I do catch him talking about the odd misdeed when he doesn’t mean to. “Aha!” I say — “You weren’t perfect after all?” It’s moments like those when I miss my mother-in-law, who died in 2003, when our children were only four and one. I know that if she were still around, she would be able to back me up on this one. But alas, I stand alone in this battle.
As for myself, just a small amount of reminiscing stirs up memories of a few embarrassing tidbits of my own. My older sister and I shared a bedroom up until she left home. Until that time, she had to put up with my, let’s say, “creative” take on cleanliness. Once, she got so exasperated with me that I finally agreed to clean just to get her off my back. I dutifully schlepped the vacuum cleaner into our room, turned it on, promptly laid the hose on the floor and flopped onto my bed to read a book. It didn’t occur to me to watch the clock and was soon fully absorbed in the story. After a good half hour, my sister got suspicious and opened the bedroom door, catching me book-handed.
I also had my own issues with non-communication of important school dates. In fifth grade I was elected to student council, much to my surprise. This involved attending meetings the first Tuesday of every month. I had braces and my orthodontist appointments were always scheduled for Tuesdays. I never attended a single student council meeting and they eventually threw me out. It never occurred to me to ask my mother to schedule the appointments for a different day of the week. She was livid when she heard what had happened and incredulous that I hadn’t said anything. Why didn’t I tell her? I dunno.
I would like to claim that these stupidities ceased when I turned 18, or even 19 or 20. Rest assured, this was not the case. There was a brief time when my two sisters and I lived in the same city, and we shared a lot of good times together. We were all in our early 20s and still trying to figure out what we wanted to do with our lives — work, study, marry, all of the above? Housekeeping and wholesome cooking were not on my agenda at all, but that didn’t stop me from inviting my sisters over for what I perceived to be a fancy meal. I made duck à l’orange for the first time in my life and was pretty disappointed at how empty the duck was. “Should’ve gotten a darned turkey,” was my thought, “you even get leftovers out of those things.” Begrudgingly, we scraped off as much meat as we could and I put it back in the oven while I cleaned the kitchen.
A week later, my younger, ever-inquisitive sister Katie came around for a visit. She breezed into the apartment and sauntered into the kitchen.
“What did you do with that duck, actually?” she said, simultaneously opening the oven, followed by a quick intake of breath.
It was still in there. Oops.
Katie was good for that kind of thing. During another visit while she was waiting for me to get ready, true to her nature she walked around opening all the cabinets and closet doors. You just never know what kind of interesting things you might find. On this particular occasion, it was a rubber plant in the closet.
“Why did you put it in there? It needs light! It’s going to die in there!”
“Yeah well it’s already dying, so I figured I’d just speed up the process.”
Then there’s the long, painful process of developing emotional and social intelligence as you get older. Who doesn’t know the twisted feeling in your stomach at the mere thought of some awful thing you once said? Your mature mind sees these past gaffes very critically. “What was I thinking?” What, indeed? The teenage mind doesn’t even understand itself once it has outgrown adolescence.
One of the first places I worked was at a sports federation. Part of the job was to be extremely neutral and diplomatic to all the club and federation representatives. We were civil servants, there to serve the good of the game, “the United Nations of basketball,” as my boss was fond of saying. This didn’t keep me from remarking to a club president how terribly his team had played right after the game had ended.
Overhearing this remark, my boss turned to look at me with the strangest face. I felt a jab of uncertainty at that moment, realizing something was amiss, but it wasn’t until years later that I began to cringe at the memory of that remark. Again, what was I thinking?
We live in a highly complex, intricately social world, or more accurately, worlds. Family, school, circles of friends, work, public spaces — each situation requires a slightly different set of social skills. A slap on the back of a friend would warrant a punch in the face in a different situation. The barbed remark to your sister that evokes peals of laughter might get you fired at work.
Navigating the oceans, lakes, rivers and streams of communication requires many years of experience and a lot of trial and error. Sometimes you need a paddle, other times a pole, and sometimes you have to get out and push. You can get stuck in the mud or the boat can capsize — then you must resort to radical measures.
The next time your child does something that seems incredibly stupid, hold off a minute before you lose your temper. Instead of letting off steam, take a moment to recall the dumb things you did when you were younger. Most of the time, this will stop you from saying something you will regret that your child is likely to hold against you long after the transgression is forgotten. Growing up simply takes a lot of time. Do everyone a favor and give your children the time they need. Trust them to have the wisdom to figure it out eventually. They will.
