Keep Yelling Their Names
Even in the phase where they don’t like you, remember this, too, shall pass.
A few years ago, I expressed gratitude to a woman who, in her 60s at the time, had taken care of more children in the foster care system than I could remember. I thanked her for her service and said something to the effect of, “I don’t know how you do it.” I was personally in a stage where every single thing I did got on my own children’s nerves, so I truly didn’t know how she could do it.
“These children didn’t ask to be born,” she said. “Somebody’s gotta take care of them. I’ve raised enough by now that I know there’s a phase where I don’t like them. They don’t like me. I have to be patient with them. They have to be patient with me. And then this, too, shall pass.”
If you haven’t hit that phase yet, well, good for you. Either your children are too young or, more likely, you’ve found a way to bend them to your will. The rest of us – we go through it. First as adolescents and young adults bucking our own parents, and then as parents getting bucked.
This week, I ran into a neighborhood kid at Dick’s Sporting Goods. I was looking for tennis shoes but was leaving empty-handed, as they had every size but the one I needed. I was walking out, ready to pick up my youngest child at his high school freshman check-in.
“Mrs. Schlegel?” I heard from behind me. I had passed this young man but didn’t immediately recognize him, since I haven’t seen him in a while. He greeted me like an adult – which makes sense since he’s almost 20 years old. Appropriate greeting, appropriate banter, appropriate asking after other members of my family, appropriate wrap-up of the conversation. Like an adult! And a well-adjusted young adult on his way to crush his sophomore year of college.
This kid-adult’s parents are friends of ours, but we don’t see them as much as we used to. But they’re the kind of friends who are real. The kind of friends who, when asked, “How are you?” give a real answer. Friends to whom I can say, “I think I'm screwing up my kids,” or “Pretty sure they hate me,” or “Why are they making such awful decisions?” Friends who can agree that parenting in general, and especially parenting adolescents, is hard.
I have always loved the spunk in their oldest child. Years ago, as an early teen, this same kid left his house pissed off about something and went to a friend’s house, trying to get away from his parents without telling them where he was. I didn’t discuss this with him at the time, but I can remember the feelings from my own adolescence. “I hate my parents.” “I wish I didn’t live there.” “I could do so much better on my own.” “They don’t know what it’s like.”
After the fact and when he was safely back home, we heard about the story from his father (the genetic giver of the fire and spunk). His father had marched up and down the neighborhood streets yelling his son’s name. Loudly. Without caring what the neighbors thought, he hollered up and down the streets in search of what was most valuable to him: his son.
When I got home from Dick’s, I wrote to my friends and told them what a polite, mature conversation I had with their now-grown son. I told them how they should be proud of him, and that they are great parents. Of course his dad quipped that “it’s all an act for people who are not his parents,” but nobody can fake it that well. Especially a teenager talking to a pediatrician who makes a living talking to teenagers all day long.
Every time I see one of the neighborhood kids in the wild, I think back on those kids as kindergarteners, middle schoolers, high schoolers. I’m so proud of their surviving the growing-up years. And I’m proud of us, too. It’s quite the roller coaster we are on. Seeing this now-grown young man at Dick’s reminded me that it’s worth it. Even in the phase where they don’t like us - and we don’t particularly like them.
So keep showing up - that’s really all you have to do. Keep marching the streets in search of your children, and don’t give up on them. Yell their names even when they think they hate you. Let them know you’re not afraid of their anger and you’re not going anywhere. This, too, shall pass, and one day, your kid will politely greet someone in the community, like a real adult.
The advice and opinions herein are by no means meant to be a substitute for professional medical advice. Please contact your personal physician, mental health provider or health care professional for medical advice. Opinions are my own.