By: Sarah Mitchell
Date: Sept. 23, 2023
This morning did not unfold as expected; it was a complete disaster. Mornings in our home are always a chaotic race against time, with everyone scrambling as the clock ticks down and the carpool waits. We’re like a line of dominoes, each of us relying on the others to maintain our balance, and when one falls, we all stumble. Today, you were the one who tipped over, and while the rest of us managed to get out the door, you remained behind.
Your day began to unravel when you dashed upstairs to grab the homework you forgot, accidentally bumping into your little brother on the way back down. Then there was that moment you checked your social media instead of putting on your shoes, and I had to remind you to put your phone away. Finally, when you discovered a broken guitar string, panic set in, and you froze in place, fearing how your music teacher would react. Frustration bubbled up, and before I knew it, tears were streaming down your face as you declared you couldn’t go to school. I tried to remain calm, assuring you that you could still make it and that the guitar string could be fixed, but you weren’t having any of it.
In that moment, I had to send the carpool off, knowing they couldn’t wait for you any longer without risking tardiness. It wasn’t fair to them, and the stress of their waiting only added to your anguish. When I turned back to you, filled with my own frustration, it was clear you saw me as the root of your morning woes.
That’s when I became the villain in your story.
Your anger erupted. You expressed your hope that I was satisfied with the chaos that would make you late for school, miss your science quiz, and face consequences for not turning in your homework. Your outburst ignited my own insecurities as a parent. Should I have helped you prepare your homework the night before? Did I not pay enough attention this morning? How could you think I wanted you to fail? Our emotions clashed, each of us poised to retaliate. I folded my arms, lecturing you on responsibility, while you shot daggers at me with your glare and muttered something disrespectful. In a moment of frustration, I confiscated your phone for the week.
I may have had the final say, but I certainly didn’t emerge victorious. I take no pleasure in your distress. I’m not here to hinder your life or make things harder for you; that’s not my role, even if you believe otherwise. Being a tween can be tough. Navigating the storm of emotions and learning to take responsibility for your actions are significant challenges. My role is to create a safe space for you to express your anger, sadness, confusion, and heartbreak, while also establishing boundaries to keep you secure. I don’t want you to suffer, but I also refuse to be a miserable mom. I take my responsibilities seriously, for both our sakes.
I’m many things, but I am not your enemy. I am the mom who loves you endlessly. I am your caregiver, confidante, biggest supporter, and honest critic. I will call you out when necessary, remind you that mistakes are part of life, and guide you towards improvement. I will celebrate your successes and comfort you in times of sorrow.
I understand you’re facing a whirlwind of changes right now—hormones, a growing body, increasing academic pressures, evolving friendships, and the overwhelming desire to grow up. I recognize the challenges of being in this transitional phase. You’re no longer a little kid but not quite a young adult either. It’s a lot to handle, but know that I’m always here for you as you navigate these confusing tween years.
Here’s my suggestion: let’s communicate. Before tensions rise, let’s have a conversation. Share how you’re feeling. Are you getting enough sleep? How did practice go? Have you heard from your best friend? Can I listen to a song you love? Let’s connect over the everyday moments, the little things that excite you or spark your curiosity. I’ll do my best to ask, and I hope you’ll do your best to share.
And when we find ourselves in conflict, let’s give each other the benefit of the doubt. Remember that the stress often stems from situations—forgotten assignments, broken guitar strings, or sleepless nights—and not from each other, especially not from someone we love. I love you dearly, my sweet girl.
Always remember, I’m on your side.
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In summary, I want you to know that I’m here for you, ready to support you as you navigate the ups and downs of this phase in your life. Let’s keep the lines of communication open.