It’s evident in the way she calls my name and the expression on her face when she steps into the room. My daughter is eager to talk, but the issue at hand is one I feel completely unequipped to resolve.
Before my children were born, I envisioned a parenting strategy that involved fostering a sense of love and security while also establishing boundaries to show that I genuinely care. I aimed to nourish their bodies and minds while allowing for plenty of fun. Our meals were filled with nutritious veggies, sparingly accompanied by sweet treats.
Just like the classic villains in Scooby-Doo would say, “My plan would have worked, too, if it weren’t for those pesky kids!” For about 15 years, my approach seemed to succeed, and I remain grateful for that time—I’ll be giving thanks for it over turkey this year.
The teenage stereotype suggests that my daughter should perceive me as an outdated figure, but unlike many teens, she believes I have all the answers. The catch? Her dilemmas reflect the very same ones I faced at her age. Regrettably, I didn’t navigate them well then. I suspect that even with the wisdom I’ve gained, I would still struggle to handle these matters if given another chance. Thus, my advice often boils down to simply waiting it out.
I realize this isn’t ideal. Kids absorb lessons from our actions, not just our words. How do I instill confidence in her when I sometimes lack it myself? How can I guide her in matters of friendship when my own experiences have been marked by betrayal and disappointment?
In her younger years, her tears were usually tied to clear and solvable issues. Now, however, her troubles revolve around feelings and relationships—areas where I feel less than comfortable. I find emotional displays to be challenging, unless they involve a gripping Tom Hanks film. I’m not one to coddle or sugar-coat, yet here I am trying to support this shy, honor-roll student who gives so much of herself, risking heartbreak in the process. I offer hugs and gentle shoulder rubs, but it doesn’t feel authentic to me; I’m more of a “that’s life, we just have to deal” kind of parent.
So where does that leave us?
It puts me in a position of wanting to selectively share advice. I’m eager to help her navigate her career path or find effective study techniques, but I hesitate to delve into the more emotional territory of friends and boys. The voice of the ideal mother I aspire to be whispers, “Shame on you!” Meanwhile, another part reminds me that I might only confuse matters more by offering advice.
The common wisdom suggests that I should refrain from giving direct advice and instead simply be available for her to talk through her feelings. I’ve tried that approach, but this girl is determined to seek answers, and she won’t stop until she gets them—or until I reach my breaking point. It’s all too clear when I’m nearing my limit, and despite my warnings, she often intensifies her emotional outpouring. She wants solutions, even if I have to pull them from thin air. I end up frustrated, she cries, and I’m left feeling terrible, struggling to keep my own emotions in check.
Why can’t she understand my limitations? I genuinely wish to help her, but some individuals are simply more pragmatic than emotional—and that’s me.
If she stopped coming to me with her issues, I would be deeply concerned for several reasons: I’d wonder if she no longer needed me, if she had gotten herself into serious trouble, or, worst of all, if she simply resented me. Thus, the notion that she might stop seeking my guidance is a fantasy I must relinquish.
I realize that a parent who doesn’t invest any effort, even if it seems futile, is no better than one who is too comfortable to set boundaries or establish discipline in the name of friendship.
For now, I’ll encourage her to explore her own solutions, learning through trial and error, all while keeping my opinions on these sensitive matters to myself, no matter how much she presses me for answers.
I now understand why grandmothers are so joyful around their grandchildren; if I ever get the chance to resolve issues with a simple hug and a kiss again, I will cherish it fully—maybe even with a cookie.
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Summary
Parenting a teenager can be challenging, especially when it comes to discussing emotional issues. While it’s tempting to want to guide them through every problem, sometimes it’s best to encourage them to find their own solutions. Balancing the desire to help with the need to allow independence is a constant struggle for parents. Ultimately, cherishing the moments when simple fixes like hugs and cookies work is essential.