What a "clean room" means to a teenager

The Before...

We just had yet another round about the room. But this time, I didn't yell or even get mad.  I was too busy laughing.

Why? Because the absurdity of what a teen can call a "clean" room just hit me. Maybe it's because I haven't been sleeping well, and I'm punchy. But it was all too funny to do anything but laugh..

For those of you new to this parent thing, you might not understand. Let me put it in simple terms. Two year olds make a mess. Teenagers give F4 tornadoes a run for their money. 

And then they "clean" it up. And that's where the real fun starts. We had that particular breed of fun just tonight. But I was laughing to hard to haul out the camera, so use your imagination. Here goes...

According to the alternate-reality world of teenager-hood, a clean room may include:

• Five assorted glasses, cups and mugs
• Three plates and two bowls
• My favourite tea pot, the one I said must never, ever, ever, under any circumstances go further than the dining room  (because it was a wedding present and cost more that I could ever possibly justify spending for a tea pot!) 
• Three pairs of shoes in the hall just outside of the door
• Two belts on the same hall floor
• A floor under the bed which was home to a half dozen power cords and headphones, several food  wrappers, an apple core and at least two magazines. 
• A pile of "I don't know what to do with this" stuff that covers about a 2' x 2' square of carpet
• A dresser top that I know is there only because I can remember what it looks like from when we moved in.
• Ditto the bedside table top
• Ditto the desk top
• An unmade bed piled with at least half of the blankets, quilts and pillows we own (she likes to make a "nest" to sleep in...oh, wait. She got that trait from me. Never mind...)

I walked in, because she wanted me to see the "clean room". My husband, who had beaten me to the punch, was laying on the floor, laughing. I could not help but joining in. So we giggled. And my daughter giggled. And her friend, who was "helping" her clean, giggled. 

And when we finished laughing, she put on the two belts, and two of the pairs of shoes that had been in the hall (one pair on feet, one on hands), then picked up the long-since outgrown little girl purse from the dresser and announced she was ready to go to Wendy's for a Frosty. as a reward for cleaning her room. 

So.....Dishes removed, space under the bed cleared and vacuumed and the desk somewhat exposed, my husband took the girls to Wendy's for those Frostys

Yeah, according to the "Great and Powerful Oz", or "The Book of Really Good Parenting" (which I am sure exists, but I never did find a copy), we are bad parents.  We should have refused to play along until the room was genuinely clean. We should have used it as an object lesson for responsibility and natural consequences and all the other things the people who have read that "Really Good Parenting" book do. 

But we didn't. We laughed and we bought Frostys

But you know what? I don't care what I should have done. It was worth it for the giggles she gave us. And that's more precious than all the spotlessly clean rooms in the universe.

What you say about social media is NOT what your kids hear

Let me start out by saying that is not yet another post about the dangers of social media profiles, and the world of paedophiles lurking out there waiting to scoop up the names, locations and pictures. That message has come through loud and clear. Got it.

Nope, this is about trying to get kids (and especially teens) to understand that NOTHING goes away online. That the "Delete" button is really just an archive or a "don't show this here now to me" button.

And that colleges and universities are using that information (including what you THOUGHT you deleted) to decide who get in and who gets scholarships.

And employers, legally or not, are using it to decide who gets hired and who gets the boot. And did I mention that it NEVER, EVER, EVER goes away???

So here's how it goes. I calmly tell my kids and their friends that they shouldn't post anything online they wouldn't want their grandmother, teachers, future boss or someday boyfriend, girlfriend, husband or wife reading. Or looking at. Or listening to. (Yeah, dangling participles galore...I can just hear my English degree adviser now!)

They look at me with sympathy. Poor mom has drunk the Kool-Aid. Doesn't get the world of Tumblr or Facebook. Never mind that online content marketing is my profession. Doesn't matter.

And so they post. And they upload.  Nothing truly awful. Nothing criminal or mean. Just stuff that to an admissions committee faced with 200 completely qualified students and one more slot could mean they come across as a slacker or uncomnmited or that person who's going to penny in the other students on the dorm floor. So they get the dreaded thin letter and someone else gets the welcome packet.

I know that the screaming-until-your-face-turns-blue or lecturing until your tongue is sprained won't get the message across. But ignoring it isn't an option.

So I'm asking you...what if anything has worked for you?  What message, what tool, what piece of information worked?

In the meantime, here's a message for future employers and college admissions boards everywhere. Kids say and do stupid stuff. By definition. Because they are kids. So could you please do everyone a favor and just look away a bit more? Scale back the peeking in where you're not invited. It's kind of like reading your sister's diary...none of your business and probably mostly made up.

Because behind the weird videos and talk about putting a cow on the high school princpals roof, they're good kids.  And odds are they would be good students and good employees.

Oh, and one more thing.  That prank you never figured out when I was at UF? That was me. The early-admissions, squeeky clean honors student. Just sayin'

Where's my infinity pool?

My mind works in weird ways, especially when I'm way overtired from three nights of not sleeping well (can someone explain to me why the very same dog who sleeps curled in a tiny ball in the living room finds it necessary to stretch out and take up as much space as possible if I let her sleep in our bed?  I mean, seriously!)

Anyhow, yesterday I flipped on the TV and there was this commercial for an addiction recovery center. And it was gorgeous. Women relaxing in fluffy spa robes, yoga classes by the beach, a man looking fit and tranquil resting at the edge of an infinity pool. And according to the spokesman, the whole experience is covered by most insurance plans.

And I had to wonder....where is MY infinity pool? Where is my beach-front yoga class? And why can't I get insurance to pay for any of that?

No, I am not an addict. In fact, I never have been. I don't even drink. Never tried drugs. (My mom did a great job of scaring me out of even experimenting with those -- thank you, Mom!)  But that shouldn't be a barrier to an insurance-paid  fluffy white spa robe of my own, should it?

Now don't get me wrong. I am not belitting the horror of addiction. Or the trials people go through in trying to get and stay clean and sober. I have friends and family members who have been down that path, and I have seen what they have been through. And I'm eternally grateful I did not face those issues.

But in all fairness, shouldn't there be a reward for exhausted moms and dads who stayed addiction-free?  An insurance-covered retreat if you make it to say, 35 or 40 without ever having a chemical addiction? Call it a medical pat on the back for managing to make it through the teen years, college, work, marriage, sleepless nights with babies, school aged kids and moody teens of our own (and for some of us, through in divorce, single parenthood and remarriage, too) , without becoming addicted.

Because, when you think about it, that is a pretty major accomplishment! So I think a completely free week or two at a beach-front spa is the least we could get in return. So do you think we could get this passed by Congress?

Let's get one of those petitions going on Facebook for a mandate to all insurance companies to give unaddicted moms and dads something to look forward to after they face all of life head on. With a fluffy spa robe and an infinity pool of their very own. With three nights of bad sleep and a moody teen at home, it sounds awfully good to me.

Rethinking the classroom is no longer an option...it's a necessity

I hear my daughter's complaints about school.  And I hear her friend's complaints, too.  They're remarkably similar. They are bored with school. And they have been for years.

It's not that they think that they know everything (although at 14, there is sometimes a bit of that, too!) It's that they're not learning anything that seems to matter to them.  Or even worse, not learning anything at all.

For example, the math. These are gifted, talented kids but they are mastering only enough of their advanced math classes to get through the tests with a good grade. And I understand why.

No where in their assignments or textbooks or lectures is there a hint of how any of this information can be used in life -- or a career. No where is there an explanation of the application of Advanced Geometry or Algebra. The subject are taught in a vacuum, and the result is a classroom full of really smart kids who don't give a darn beyond the grade sheet.

The same could be said of their science, English and history classes. No where is the "why" answered...or even allowed to be asked. 

 I was thinking about this when I came across this article on Wired's website this morning "Coding for kids is as easy as Pi" it said. And the story was the opposite of what I see and hear in my daughter's school. These little kids weren't be told to USE a computer program; they were being taught how to create their own programs.  They weren't handed "learning games" to play...they were coding their own games.

And I was struck by the difference between that school in the UK, and this supposedly outstanding high school in Texas. In one, learning is doing. And when you do, you quickly learn the "why" of things like math and science. They used math and science and English to make a toy crocodile "bite" an offered finger. And in the process, learned far more than any textbook and test could ever teach.

But that lesson seems to be missed in the high school here, where competition for grades and ridiculous levels of homework substitute for actual learning...or even motivation for real learning.

There's a lot of talk about education reform, classroom size, and how we are falling behind the rest of the world in knowledge. But instead of more tests and longer school day and stricter attendance policies, it seems to me that the real answer lies in a primary school in England -- and making a crocodile bite a curious finger. 

(Image from the wired website and the original article)

The mysteries of high school in Texas

I've lived in a lot of places.  From Florida where I grew up, to years spent in the Rockies, Pennsylvania and even a brief stint in New England, I've experienced a lot of regional "quirks".  But with a daughter now in high school in Texas, the mysteries have deepened.

We thought that the weirdest thing so far was the fact that in Austin even people who don't have kids in the local high school buy season passes to the high school football games. And they really go!

But the "strangeness factor" jumped several degrees yesterday when we accidentally encountered something called "Mums" at the local Michael's. No, these are not the flowers, although a silk version of them is involved.

Texas mums are enormous creations made from silk flowers, too many yards of ribbon to count, stuffed bears, plastic cupcake decorations, Mardis Gras beads, bells, battery-powered Christmas lights and enough hot glue to securely put Humpty Dumpty back together again.  And that's just a "basic mum."

And best all, when these things are all assembled, girls wear them to school! And in some schools, to the Homecoming game as well. They're worn pinned to shirts or jackets (or in some cases to bra straps to keep them from tearing holes in clothes because of the weight of it all), or tied around necks.

Boys get off a bit easier. They wear a smaller version of the traditional mum, attached to a garter and worn on the arm (ideally over a letter jacket, I'm told.  This is, after all, Texas!)

And as if all this silliness wasn't enough, there's the matter of the cost of this autumn high school tradition. This enormous hot-glued bundle of fake flowers and ribbon and do-dads can easily cost hundreds of dollars.  Sometimes over a thousand.

A very basic mum base at Michael's starts at $30.  And from there, girls (or moms or in some cases, boyfriends) are expected to buy and add all the extras from stuffed pets to blinking lights. There are pages and pages online explaining how to make and customize a mum.  And even more sites selling them, all for upwards of $200.

Needless to say, we're going to make our own.  I'm handy with a glue gun.  I found a step-by-step Homecoming mum video.  We stocked up on ribbon using this week's Michael's coupons.  The Mardis Gras beads and tiny stuffed bear are coming from the dollar store.  Not sure about bells or lights.  But we're going to try and keep the cost below $20.

And once it's all done, we'll take a picture or two of our creation as my daughter heads out the door. And I promise not to giggle too much...at least while she can hear me.

Mums, indeed.  Giggle, giggle!

Top 5 Stupid Things Too Many People Believe

5) Having a Diet Coke with your Whopper "balances it out"

There is no such thing as "balancing" calories...an 1800 calorie, high fat, high sodium meal is still just as bad for you with a zero calorie soda. And some research is finding that artificial sweeteners encourge fat retention and boost hunger!

4) Lots of homework means kids are learning more and the teacher is better

The fact is, there is no correlation between academic quality and homework. Teachers who give lots of homework may in fact be passing the bulk of the work off onto parents. Some countries have banned homework entirely, and have seen test scores rise.

3) Parents can do one thing and tell their kids to do another, and the kids will listen.

Kids learn behavior from three things: what parents do, what peers do, and what other significant adults in their life do. What is said carries almost no weight when it conflicts with observable behavior. So parents, save your words, and watch your deeds!

2) Real love does not require work

Ask all of the married people who complain about dates that vanished after the wedding, sweet words and romantic cards that disappeared once the "I do" was said. Even more than money, lack of attention to the relationship and one's spouse is the number one complaint of married women and men.

1) Pressing the elevator button more times (or harder) makes the elevator come faster

You've done it. Does it work? Enough said!

Brittany Spears and Tweens

My daughters, age 18 and 11 went to the Britney Spears Circus concert last night.

On the drive home, my 11 year old was telling us about the transvestite performers and a dance number in which the male dancers striped down to pink and blue camo underwear. YIKES!

I thought there was no real issue with the girls going to the concert, because she is a girl, too. So her costumes would not be an issue.

I never thought about stripping male dancers and transvestites.

Over all, my little one liked the circus performers (ala Cirque du Sole) most, and Britney's music second best...but still. Maybe not my best parenting decision. But not the worst...oh well.

They had a good time, and loved going...a great night for them :-) Lance, you are their hero this a.m. :-)

Hi, I'm Catherine's mommy

Soon after my son was born, my first name changed to "Nicholas' mommy." I think it started with that first playgroup meeting. As we each walked in carrying our new babies (they were far too young to play, but it was still called a playgroup...hmmm), and diaper bags and assorted newborn paraphernalia, we were perhaps for the first time, somewhere as someone's mommy. It was that mommy badge that gained us admission to the group. So the identification made sense.

When Rachel was born less than two years later, I gained a longer name..."Hi, I'm Nicholas' and Rachel's mommy." Two in diapers and car seats meant a two part name.

Later, as they became more independent and Catherine joined the family, I began to be more selective. So one moment, I was Nicholas' mommy, a second later, Rachel's mommy, and the next Catherine's mommy. It all depended on who was in front of me -- or rather who was hanging off my arm or wrapped around my leg.

This transformation happened to me, an independent woman with a name and identity, and even a CV, without me even being aware. It just WAS.

While the thought of changing my surname at marriage had sent me into terror (I never did do it), changing from the name I knew to someone's mommy never bothered me. I delighted in the role. So the name was a badge of honor.

But now that my youngest is 10, I've begun to wonder...after she is grown, who will I be? How will I adapt after so many years of being known as someone's mommy?

Those of you who have faced this...any thoughts?

A footnote: When I was walking into my daughter's aftercare last night, after writing this post, one of her classmates was coming out with his mom. He saw me, and gave me a cheerful "Hi Catherine's mommy!" Guess it really is too soon to worry about what happens after!