Raising a teenager is painful to say the least. There's no more cute little voice, lovey dovey moments, or innocence. And you obviously can't spank or wave your finger at them while saying "no, no little Johnny, don't do that". You have to come up with more inventive ways of disciplining, communicating, and overall loving.
I strongly believe that affection is still very important, no matter what age. Every person on this earth wants to feel the touch of someone who loves them. Whether it be a soft pat on the back, holding hands, or fingers through the hair. Everyone loves it and needs it. But beyond the physical affection, things change when children get older, namely, they do just that, get older.
My son recently came home smelling like cigarette smoke. He's almost 17. But that's no excuse, it's just me listing his age. I smelled it on him in 1 second flat. The stupidity of a teenager shines through in these moments. Smokers are somehow oblivious to the fact that the rest of us can smell you from 6 miles away. Our noses turn into that of a brown bear's nose. We sense you, smoker people! To top off the fact that I hate it, hate it, hate it, my other son is deathly allergic to it. He's asthmatic, and one of his allergies is cigarette smoke, along with trees, grass, and animals with fur. So, to have a person in my home purposefully bring in something that might harm another one of us is just not tolerable in my book.
But being level headed, I took a deep breathe, and my husband and I decided to only give advice, and facts about smoking. Instead yelling and screaming "what the hell were you thinking?" We decided to be smart about it. The yelling and screaming comes easy to me, can you tell? LOL
We explained what smoking does to your body. We explained the seriousness of addiction and the affects of that, as well as the cost. I told him that if a girl had a choice, would she choose to kiss a guy with ashtray breathe, or strawberry bubblegum breathe? But we also deeply discussed Brody's health issues and that it cannot be tolerated for that reason alone. We left the room by saying "these are the facts about smoking, but it's up to you because we can't police you 24 hours a day". Since then, I have not smelled cigarette smoke. I have even heard him on the phone with someone telling them, "naw, I don't smoke anymore". YAY! The After School Special tactic worked. (Unless of course, he is better at hiding it, either way, I can't smell it.)
Two small, very small, days later, he went to the high school football game. Our backyard overlooks the football field. That night, he strolled thru the front door right on time. Smiling ear to ear, he came right at me and hugged me saying "Hi Mom". WHOA! I could smell something new that night.
I told him to head to his room and that I would be right there. After putting the other kids to bed, I headed for his room. He was already lying down on his bed, but was still smiling. I said "what are you smiling about?" "I was making out with a girl" he replied, smiling even bigger this time. I said "have you been drinking?" He replied immediately, without any hesitation "Yep!" I sat down on the floor beside his bed, keeping my composure and asked a load of questions. He happily answered every single one. At one point, I wanted to ask "are you sure it was vodka and not truth serum?" I had trouble at times not laughing at him. He was so giggly and it was almost cute. But I had to check myself and say STOP, this is terrible stuff. What are you doing thinking this is funny?!?!
So, I did the same thing as we did two nights earlier. I explained that he could get me in a lot of trouble for being underage and the trouble he could get himself into. Thank goodness we live within walking distance; otherwise, he could have been in a car! By the way, they were drinking in plain site at the school football game. Anyway, I did the after school special routine on him and hoped for the best. I hoped he would be sick out of his mind the next day, vomiting, crying "I'll never drink again".
Yeah, right! He was up the next morning at 7:00 a.m. asking me for eggs and bacon. He was perfectly fine. ARGH! He had no punishment out of it. We talked more and he remembered everything. I also brought up the fact that he spilled his guts to me the night before and to remember that, because if he ever does it again, he will tell me everything!
Two little weeks later, the homecoming dance! He's supposed to be home at 10:00. My strict rule, which he abides by very carefully. At 10:05, he was not home, so I called his cell. He answered and said "I'm almost there".
I decided to walk out front and stand in the driveway and wait for him. As I looked down the street, I heard giggling from behind me. I look the opposite direction from where he should be coming, and here comes a load of people, falling down in my yard as they try the simple task of walking. They're laughing, falling, tripping, and looking totally ridiculous. And alas, here he comes, bringing up the rear of this train of fools. He's trying that cool teenage boy swagger, but it ain't working. Even at 10:15 at night I can see his pearly whites, he's smiling so big. The swagger kept swaying from left to right, in a diagonal line. He walks right up to me and says "Hey mom" with this goofy "I'm wasted" voice.
He's white as chalk and sweating already from his head. I decided to grab my purse and take him to his father's house because I had all the other kids in the house still watching TV. I didn't want them to witness this catastrophe. I told him to stay put. I ran inside, grabbed my purse and off we went. I told him we were going to go for a drive.
Now, some background, I am not a drinker. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy myself some Mexican food and margaritas. I also enjoy wine, by the bottle at times. But I never get wasted and have never had to throw up and get sick over it and I am not 16 years old.
But I toss him in the car, and drive to his dad's. I use the excuse of the kids being up, but really, honestly, I just don't want to deal with it. It's someone else's turn as far as I am concerned. I wasn't in the mood.
We get about 3 minutes from the house and I hear this loud rumbling, which turns into groaning. Before I have a moment to react, I realize the vomit it coming, fiercely coming. I reach across for his door and yell "open the door, open the door!"
Oh man, what a site, my entire door, passenger side of the car covered in teenage stupidity! It didn't take but about 10 seconds for me to realize my terrible predicament.
Crying, I call his dad, telling him, possibly yelling, "I am bringing him to you, he just barfed in my car and you're taking care of this! He just BARFED in my car!!" He said "why are you yelling at me?" I said "because you are on the phone, that's why!"
I cried the entire way to his house. I called my husband and said "don't ask any questions, just get in your car and come pick me up at Jake's dad's house." "Uh, ok" he said.
When we got there, I walked him to the door; he barfed on his way up their stairs and all over his bed. I gave his dad the keys to my car and told him "make sure my car is spotless by tomorrow afternoon, I'll be back to get it". His dad does car detailing on the side, so he has all the needed equipment.
My husband shows up, gets out of his car and opens his trunk. He pulls out a gas can and walks up to me and says "You ran out of gas didn't you?" No, I didn't run out of gas, but that sure would have been easier to deal with. So I explained what happened and he hung his head really low and proceeded to his car without saying a word. LOL
The next day, I got a call at about 3:00 and was told my car was finished. I picked it up, along with the teenager, and it was spotless. He did a great job but I was deserving.
But what I am struggling with is this….how the heck do you punish this kid? I mean, ok, I know, restriction, take away the computer, take away the phone, banish him from the outside world and only allow fresh air when needed. But really, what's your advice? Instead of getting drunk, I was off getting pregnant. I never dealt with this side of things.
I also wonder if being 3rd generation square has anything to do with it. You see, my grandparents drank and smoked. My grandmother smoked so much, all of us hated it. All I heard my entire life was how terrible it smelled. So, in turn, I associated the smell of smoke with the term BAD. Same with drinking. It was drilled into me that it was bad.
For Jake however, we're not around anyone who does those things. So he hasn't had it drilled into him like it was for me. I guess you could say it almost is never brought up because it's never been an issue.
I know what you're thinking. "Oh, he's a teenager, most teenagers do this." But really, do they? And where else is this headed. Is there any end in site? I surely hope so, I need a drink.
Signed,
Desperate Mother, wishing I was a housewife
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