She's Baaack!

How does so much time go by? Life changes so quickly and I keep forgetting to chronicle all the adventures and important minutiae.

As of August 1, 2012, my formerly troubled teen moved back in with me. I asked her to, believe it or not. I didn’t like the way she was living—her apartment was dirty and, even though I went over to clean it every now and again, it was painful to see how gross she decided to be. It was also very stressful for her to live there because of the rent and the dismal neighborhood.

And the loneliness.

After the doofus, loser boyfriend moved out and left her to deal with the rent and upkeep herself, she was alone there in a two-bedroom apartment. Even though the complex was new-ish and the unit was nice, the clientele was nasty. I think her next-door neighbor was a prostitute or, at the very least, a drug dealer. I got a second-hand buzz just by knocking on my daughter’s door. Her building was next to a vacant lot that was used for discarding old mattresses and beer bottles and heroin needles (probably). And because she didn’t have a car, she had to walk around these places to go to work and to the corner convenience store.

I couldn’t take it anymore and she was not thriving. So I encouraged her to come home—and she agreed that it was a good idea. This way she could get a car and go to community college and not have the weight of the world on her hands. It took a thousand trips back to the apartment to get her things, and eviction notices, but she’s out of there. It’ll be a mark on her credit, but her well being is more important.

So, is it working? Yes. She’s much happier and calmer and she lives in a safe, clean environment. She has food in the fridge, company when she needs it (me), a nice room to sleep in, and a fast computer to use for school. She’s taking two classes that she loves, and is much more relaxed. We spend time talking and have even taken some lovely road trips together so she can take photographs. I truly enjoy our special days together. We talk like adults and work things out without arguing and yelling. We’ve both learned to be patient and listen—and not react so much. Sometimes, I think she’s better at it than I am. I think her new boyfriend (of 5 months or so) has taught her how to be a friend. I may not approve of him overall, but it’s possible that he’s been good for her. She’s never had a relationship (with a guy or a friend) that has lasted so long and is still positive.

The only snag is that she collected some cats while she was on her own, two extra kittens that are screwing up my life. They’ve scratched and peed and vomited and meowed and annoyed me to the point where I feel like I’m under siege by two creatures that weigh less than my running shoes. She also brought back the old cat that she took with her—and he’s nasty and mean, and has chased away my sweet female cat. That’s our issue, which seems like nothing compared to the old ones—drugs, promiscuity, attitude, and badness. I prefer this.

What Really Happens When The Children Leave The Nest

Hilarious parody from: http://www.thetoque.com/011023/emptynest.htm

MAUI, HI-- Parents often have to deal with separation anxiety. Their children have left for college, or finally moved out on their own, leaving mom and dad with a suddenly quiet house. Shelley and Phil Pleasance are one couple that are struggling to cope with Empty Nest Syndrome (ENS).

On their recent trip to Maui, the Pleasances tried to deal with the emptiness.

Shelley busied herself by consuming several Mai Tai's and shopping for tiki souvenirs in the public market. At the pig roast one evening, she could barely contain her emotion, while she filled her face with poi.

Phil, like most men of his generation, tried to bury his feelings deep in his gut by lounging around the pool, reading a Stephen King novel and working on his tan, all the while appearing aloof from his inner turmoil.

It must have been quite obvious to their new friends, Frieda and Elmer Parkinson from Buffalo, that they were trying to deal with loss at home.

"I could tell by the way Phil was enjoying himself that something had changed domestically," said Elmer, a retired photocopier technician. "He was laughing and joking and carrying on like a burden was lifted after long years. But I could see through that."

Shelley admitted that there was an adjustment period when their son Duncan left for Stanford University in late August.

"It was so strange when [Duncan] left for college," said Shelley, who has joined an aquarobics class in their home town of Beaconsville, Indiana. "I woke up the next day, and walked naked through the house. I took a long bath, watched a few hours of television, and then went out for lunch with some friends. And that night, Phil was friskier than he'd been in a long time. It was a real adjustment."

"This sort of devastation is often masked," said Dr. Albert Phinney. "Parents, such as the Pleasances, try to handle separation grief by participating in activities that they enjoy or didn't have time for when they were raising childen. Their happiness and false sense of relief at the lessening of responsibility is often confused with the personal emotional sadness that they are experiencing."

Phil's evident pain was exhibited when he recently sold the family mini-van and bought a Camaro in a rash decision obviously clouded by withdrawal pangs associated with ENS.

"It was a rough time," said Phil. "I'm sure I was so overwhelmed with emotion over my missing son, that I made some impulsive choices. Perhaps Shelly and I should have waited a week or two before throwing that party."

"I could see that Phil was behaving oddly, and I'm sure it was due to ENS," added Shelley. "He was obviously having difficulty walking by Duncan's bedroom because he immediately turned it into a computer room."

The Pleasances hope that their planned three-week Caribbean cruise in December will help as well. But they have so much sorrow to overcome.

How to create a blog post that keeps on topic when the topic is not the topic anymore…

I started this blog when my younger of two daughters was 16 and had been trouble with a capital T since 6^th grade. Over the past couple of years—after 4 wrecked cars, countless court dates, no less than three bags of pot discovered…and so much more—I can say with great certainty that I don’t think my daughter is a fuck-up after all.

Daughter’s been working at a very good job for over a year and is loved and respected there. She’s been promoted and makes more money at 18 than I did in my first few years of teaching. My student loan debt far exceeded my income for many years.

In addition, she has her own apartment and has been able to keep friends and has had a boyfriend for quite some time (they live together). Normally, she’s at odds within two weeks of starting a relationship. The boy can’t handle her and she has found a thousand things wrong with him. While this kid is far from perfect (like, really really far), it is a testimony to her maturity to be able to talk and work through problems with him. I give her a LOT of credit.

By far the best thing is the fact that I can have a nice from-a-distance relationship. Now that we don’t live together, we can pick and choose when we want to hang out, and I can pick and choose what to get involved in. As time goes by, she needs me less and less. She even thanked me the other day for letting her figure things out on her own and not meddling. Sure, I still annoy the bejeezus out of her with my questions, but if I don’t want to deal with something—it’s a good opportunity to butt out and go on with my life.

Speaking of which, I finally have a life. I can now spend time with friends, go to my boyfriend’s house after work and stay late, go out of town at a moment’s notice, and just be. When you’re children live with you, you have to be a decent role model and pretty much at their beck and call. I have no one to answer to and I LOVE it. And my tampons don’t run out…

An Empty Nest = Simple Math

I’ve discovered the number one reason to accept your empty nest status—it is the single best way to improve your relationships with your children, especially the troublesome ones. Suddenly, you see all your hard work, nurturing, guiding, and good sense flowing from your offspring. It’s sort of like when they were little—you’d send them to a friend’s house and the parents would tell you what great manners your child had, something you didn’t see so much at home! No longer are you on top of each other, overwhelmed with responsibilities, expectations, and visions of grandeur. It’s so much easier to see your dear daughters as separate units, capable young adults who do know how to do for themselves, who don’t really need you to fix everything, fight their battles, and cut their meat!

I’m realizing what a smart, mature young woman my formerly troubled daughter truly is. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s learned from her mistakes and has learned a few things from me as well. We have wonderful conversations now, both on the phone, through texting and emailing, and in person—about life and decisions and future plans. It was too hard before because we were always enmeshed in our daily lives with me harping on the last infraction.

To my delight, since moving into her own apartment, my daughter has learned what it takes to run a household, the value of a dollar, the strength it takes to earn that dollar, and that she has no time for nonsense. Because life is so expensive, she’s definitely cut down on whatever she smokes (I can’t say for sure if she has eliminated cigarettes and pot), and the domino effect is a beautiful thing to see. She now has no trouble waking up in the morning, making it so she’s early for work each day. Being early and not stressed has caused her to improve her performance overall and earn a raise. She’s also developed a new sense of confidence and is applying for a promotion. Her responsibility in paying her rent and bills has earned her her first credit card, and because she works for a credit card company, she knows how to handle it properly (without getting into the trouble I’m all too familiar with).

So these are very good things. For her, it’s wonderful because she can be herself and do whatever she pleases without me pulling on her. Ironically, she calls me more than ever—every day, sometimes twice a day—“just to talk.” She said she still needs to hear my voice and run things by me; in fact, whenever something positive happens, I’m the first one she calls. And when she’s got something troubling her, I’m STILL the first one she calls. Isn’t that something? She barely talked to me other than to goof around for the 18 years she lived with me!

I don’t care; I’ll take a warm relationship with my daughter any way I can get it. I love her company more than ever (there were admittedly times before that I did, too), and I’ve been tremendously successful at keeping my mouth shut about her hair color (still fluorescent red), her drab clothes (she suddenly rejected the pretty wardrobe and shoe collection she had for a long time), and her housekeeping skills (I don’t have to live with her anymore, so who cares if her room is messy!).

No sniping, no nagging, no judging = no rebellion, no defensiveness, no belligerence.

I like our new equation.

Well, That Was Fast--My Daughter Moved Back Home

Here’s an update I didn’t think I’d be making any time soon. My “troubled teen,” whom I thought had made it in the big world is BACK HOME. I definitely have many mixed feelings about it.

I was beginning to get used to the peace and cleanliness in my house (not the quiet). It was effortless to be home—for over a month it was orderly, organized, clean, and good-smelling. There were no children, big dirty shoes, no litter boxes, no bad attitudes, no arguments, no cat fur in my mascara…but there was hollowness, stark silence, and an empty refrigerator.

The bottom line is, I missed my little girl—but the baggage that she comes her? Not so much. But I’ll take it because I love her in a way that only strong, dedicated parents understand. No matter what she does or says, she can’t break me or my heartstrings. I am, always have been, and always will be her rock. And she’ll always be my love girl.

So anyway, here’s how it went down. I was in Walmart after work, shopping for some goodies for my upcoming book club (one of my passions). I left my phone in the car so I could just get my stuff done without interruption. I didn’t think for one second that my daughter would call, as this was during her work hours, so I rambled around the store at my leisure.

Once back in the car, I saw that there were about five missed calls from her and one sobbing voicemail. I admit, I rolled my eyes in my mind and said, “Shit, what now, damnit?” After several tries, I got in touch her, and she said, “Mommy, can you come help me move out?” The “mommy” title was very telling; she was in great need.

We talked for the duration of the 45 minute trip to her apartment so she could calm down. She told me the details and I became pretty inflamed. There were so many problems that she exposed—first and foremost, she was accused of stealing from the roommate and there were issues over guys squatting in the apartment. My daughter actually took matters into her own hands and threw one of them out (proud of her for taking a stand). The roommate told my daughter that if she didn’t like the ground rules that she set up, she could just get the hell out. This was after the rent was paid for the month, of course.

I put in a call to the roommate, who was at work. It was a formal one stating that if they didn’t work out the issues at hand, that she would owe me for the remaining days of the month as I actually paid the rent for January. A thousand text messages followed, and I just stopped responding. The roommate is intelligent and articulate; she just uses her mind for negative purposes. My daughter tried to convince her that they should sit down and talk about their many issues, but the girl refused and demanded that she leave immediately. To make a long story short, within a couple of hours, both our cars were jam-packed with her belongings and her three cats, and we were on our way home. I was sweating bullets and so very sad for my still-weeping child. “Why am I such a failure?!” she kept crying out.

There has been another barrage of texts, but I’m not entertaining them right now. There are claims about damage, keys, court, etc. and I want to process this, and my daughter needs to as well. There were also issues that the roommate could get into big trouble for—selling pot from the apartment, arrest warrants, and who know what else.

My child and I will discuss this and solve the problems together; she clearly needs my support and I won’t let her down. I don’t agree with everything she’s done, but I give her lots of credit for trying to do well. For now, she needs to kick ass at work and get herself organized. She’s already calmer and happier, and has asked me to forbid her to ever move out again because she always does better at home with me. She broke down and cried about all the trouble she’s caused and to please forgive her. Of course I will. We are strong women in our family, and we’ll move on and put this past us. Life is too short to wallow in misery.

We’re now in the process of moving her back into her room and getting her organized one day at a time. I’ve set ground rules about friends, behaviors, etc. I can do that—I’m the parent/grownup and it’s my home. My daughter doesn’t seem to mind that I’m asserting my well-deserved authority.

This child has a bit of life cleanup to do—she let her car get trashed, she’s not been taking great care of herself, she’s been dressing sloppily for work, she’s not exercising or volunteering, and she hasn’t been eating well. Mama’s stepping in—it’s not a control thing; it’s a “get back to basics” thing. She needs the structure and has come to realize that I’m right again and that she should’ve listened to me in the first place. What’s the expression? Hindsight is 20/20.

How Did This Happen? Finally Good News!

I did have one incident in the past month with my younger daughter since the shoplifting thing, but thankfully, it really wasn't her doing. Her friend was driving on the freeway at a high speed and was stopped and investigated. My daughter and two teenage boys were in the car and everyone got checked out. The driver was found to have been drinking, speeding, and had several pot pipes in the car. She ultimately had her car impounded. The boys were clean. My daughter had a pot pipe in her purse that "wasn't mine!" Of course. I wasn't born yesterday and neither were the police officers, as I found out after I had to travel 45 minutes to the location at about 1 a.m. She ended up with a fine and a scare and we had a deep conversation on the way home--about her choices, her friend's un-friendlike choices, and so on.

My final statement, and what she heard loud and clear was, "If I'm ever called again by the police in connection with anything you've done...I'm not coming. I'm done."

OK, so since that night in early December 2010, she has turned 17. She also got a raise and a promotion at work, plus bonuses and awards worth almost $1000. They love her there and she loves her job. She has decided that she's going to focus because she likes the positive attention much better. She likes it better when we get along and wants to keep it that way.

My seventeen-year-old daughter now lives in her own apartment with two other roommates and she is so happy. Most people think I'm crazy for allowing it, but she's been handling it wonderfully. She pays her own rent, her own car payment, her own insurance, and her own upkeep. It has doen wonders for our rapport. We see each other every Sunday without fail--for brunch and then we spend the afternnon hanging out. We shop, go to the movies, and best of all--we talk! On this day, at this moment, I have the relationship with this child that I've always wanted. I like the idea of starting 2011 this way. I have an empty nest, but I'm now stress free!