Fear of a Teen Planet

The first time I had a newborn the world became a difficult, hostile place. My back ached, my nipples were constantly in pain from nursing, I slept in short 1-2 hour fits, interrupted by a baby's angry squall. I was constantly cleaning up poo and pee and vomit. I was like a new mom zombie---something closer to the walking dead than a human being.

Sometimes I would look to the future with anticipation. I would think, "I can't wait until my baby can walk." Or, "I can't wait until my baby can say 'Mama.'" I was careful not to say these things out loud, because more experienced parents would scold me: "Oh, these are the good years, my friend. Don't wish them away!" Or, this chestnut: "Ah, time flies, my dear! Your children grow up so fast. You'll be wishing these years back soon enough."

Later, I finally found an experienced parent who agreed with me. "The diaper years," he said, "go slowly....then everything speeds up."

The second time I had a newborn I began to experience the time warp that everyone talked about. My first born was finally out of diapers, and my newborn's diapers and nursing habits didn't seem like much of an imposition. I learned to nurse lying down, and I watched a lot of Top Chef and Project Runway. (One of my second born's first words was "remote"---or, actually "kemote"). With my second born, who I figured was probably my last, every vestige of babyhood seemed precious----something to be cherished. I nursed her longer, babied her longer, spoiled her longer.

My first born is now seven, and my second born is almost four. I feel like I have arrived at the sweet spot of parenting. They still need me---but not so much to wipe their butts. They need me for snack time, and play time, but they can dress themselves, shoe themselves, bath themselves (with some help drawing the bath, of course) and entertain themselves for much longer stretches of time. Tonight my children played together, without fighting, for twenty minutes.

But now that I am finally enjoying parenting, something new is happening: I am gripped with fear as I think about my kids becoming teenagers. I poke around on the internet and see stories about teens shaving their pubic hair, driving drunk, getting pregnant, flunking out of school, etc. I watch my favorite TV drama, Parenthood, where teens run away to live with their boyfriends, sneak out of their rooms at night, and go on long bus trips by themselves. The teenagers in real life and in fictional TV say the most hurtful, hateful things to their parents. Also, they slam the door a lot. I am afraid.

I've been thinking about starting a little time capsule full of things that remind me how much I love my kids, and how much they enjoy expressing their love for me---while they are still young enough to show it. Here's the Valentine that my first born son Jacob made for his family (me, his dad and his littler sister) for Valentines Day. I pretty much cry every time I look at it. It's the first thing I'm putting in my "I'm scared of my teenager" time capsule.