Sitcoms

My 12 year old boy made my jaw drop on the floor today. In modern terminology, what followed was a parenting epic fail.

We were having a perfectly lovely dinner. We were eating fish tacos made with soft tortillas. Hubby was trying to hand the boy one and apparently the boy wasn't catching on. So Hubby said, "Just take it and put it in your mouth."

To which the boy said, "That's what she said."

You might have heard that line on the sitcom, "The Office," as a crude punchline which turns the most innocent word or phrase instantly into something filthy. While certainly, a line like that delivered in my husband's office with a bunch of grown men around would have brought guffaws of laughter. But delivered out of the baby face of my child, it brought its own level of crazy.

My husband said, " I need you to know that was inappropriate. I have no more patience for you today."

I was shocked and tried not to lose my cool too much.

I started with being reasonable: "It is my fondest hope that you will grow up to be a good kind man. That you will be respectful and honest. That you won't be one of those guys who don't respect women and treat them like objects. That joke you told was crude and objectifying. As a guy with two sisters, I'd hope you'd be more respectful. I'd hope you'd be protective of your sisters and in turn be respectful to other girls and women."

Pretty good, right? I should have stopped there. But no, here comes the side of epic with that fail.

"I know you're going through a lot of changes right now and you're probably thinking about sex a lot. Here on the island, we hear of parties teens are having sex just for fun. Like instead of playing Playstation they're having sex. But it cheapens the experience and you end up objectifying yourself and others if you participate. You have my blessing to masturbate to your heart's content. Actually, save up your pennies and buy some good quality lube. I think it is more important to get rid of that frustration. Just j that stuff off. (okay, that might not have been my exact words but you get the drift.) I'd rather you jerk off than be a jerk."

The boy was completely mortified. He didn't even ask for seconds on his dinner. He just kind of left the table in a daze. My husband, for his part, was smirking in the kitchen while listening to my major tangent. Later, he told me that I was a freak because I have masturbation on the brain. He only says this because yesterday I had asked him to explain the punchline of a joke I heard on a podcast the other day. It went like this, "If God didn't want us to masturbate, why did He give us ziploc bags, warm grape jelly, and rubber bands?"

I still can't figure that one out.

We are not alone

After having a truly awful week with my eldest, I attended a seminar at the local middle school called, "Understanding the Disorganized Teenage Brain." I already knew that brain development is not truly done until age 25. But I didn't know what to do about that. How is knowing that the 12 year old's brain is not fully developed going to help me when he won't do his chores without a major confrontation? Too much drama in the house.

It shouldn't have been a surprise to me when I showed up a touch late and saw the room full of other perplexed parents -- many of whom I recognized from preschool years 9 years ago. OMG. I know that in the whole of human experience, raising a 12 year old boy is not something new. This earth has seen this countless times and people do survive. And the boys usually don't turn out to be serial killers or kinslayers. They turn out to be lovely charming men. Or douchebags. There are plenty of both. All men were 12 years old at one time in their lives.

This, too, shall pass.

So, predictably, the lecture started with a review of the science -- that human brains are not matured in the prefrontal cortex as late as the mid-twenties. There are significant changes happening in the brain starting at around 10 - 14 years old. These changes SEVERELY impair the child's ability to organize. See, that last little bit I thought was peculiar to my own child. But it turns out that organization and the neural pathways needed for that particular skill, are nonexistent in the disorganized mind with an immature prefrontal cortex. In fact, there was a statement on our handouts in bold lettering: "Teens DO have brains."

Yeah, right.

So anyway, the part that was most helpful was the strategies to help your child organize. It takes 21 days to form a new habit. So this is day 1 for me. One of the things I need to do is demonstrate organization. So when I do things that help me keep track of my stuff, I say it out loud. Like, "I am putting my keys on the key rack. I am putting my watch in the jewelry box. I am putting my hairbrush in the bathroom drawer." These are little things. But apparently, this is modeling meta-cognition, or thinking about thinking. So for the next 21 days, I am going to concentrate on saying out loud the things I do to get organized. The other thing the lecturer touched on is that I need to let the kids in on when I am planning a big event. She said that when you're a kid, your parents will announce that you'll be going on vacation and one morning, all you had to do to get ready was put on your shoes and go. But there is a lot of planning and organizing that goes into a vacation. That needs to be modeled so that they can see what the process is. How do you choose the budget? Location? Transportation? Lodging? Packing? Preparing the house? Care for pets? See, I'm exhausted just listing all those questions.

The other thing to do is adopt a flat affect. Turns out that the thrill seeking part of their brain is in high gear during these years. So if you're thinking that you might be paranoid because you think your kid is just trying to get a rise out of you, you're right. Not the being paranoid part but the latter. He is just trying to get a rise out of you. It activates the thrill seeking part of their brain and that's all good. So now, I need to act like I'm on massive doses of mood stabilizer and say things like, "I'm sorry that you've waited until 11pm on Sunday to let me know about this 20 page report due tomorrow. I'm sorry I won't be able to help you tonight. I need my sleep. I will help you with it tomorrow." All this said very quietly, calmly, and with a completely blank expression. We'll see if I'm even remotely capable of doing it. Scorpio, after all.

Sharon had accompanied me to the lecture. After, we talked about ideas to help us remember that these boys were our babies. Unconditional love is somewhere in us buried, we just need to access it. We talked about buttons with baby pictures on them that the boys could wear. Maybe custom t-shirts with images of the sweet baby boys so that every time we want to throttle them, we'd be stopped by the achingly cute cherubs on their chests. Sharon had the best idea. She suggested baby head masks. They'd have to be as big as their torsos to make it be in proper proportion to their teenage bodies, because how could you ever yell at a baby's face for not turning in his homework on time?

I talked to my mom at length this morning about all the things I learned at this lecture. She's been praying for me to gain patience, especially when I deal with my son. I guess those rosaries are finally paying off. Or maybe not. Only time will tell.

I'll let you know in 21 days.