A very old friend of mine (we go back 24 years, I believe) recently sent me a wonderful article he had written about “Motivation and Meditation”. In it (and forgive me for quoting you without your permission, Steve), he says,

Too often, people discuss their past like it was some system of perfectly-choreographed, confident strolls down various smooth paths, from one carefree point to the next. Perhaps it’s a bit embarrassing to admit mistakes to others – or even to one’s self. However, aren’t we doing the younger people a disservice when we present some contrived persona: doesn’t it better prepare them to deal with life’s “curve balls” when we’re honest about our own?

This is something that I feel so strongly about. It immediately brought to mind a blog post that I had written for my MySpace page way back in January 2007. So I took a stroll by there to see if what I had said back then still held true for me now. After all, March 2007 ushered in some pretty serious life changes for me. Reading it, I decided that it still represents exactly who I am and wanted to share it with you. I’d love to hear your opinions, so please comment!

On Growing Up Myself

I have a vivid memory of being 13, being in 8th grade, and thinking that I was about as mature as a person could be. We would sit in my friend Wanda’s house, smoking pot, listening to Cheap Trick and Zeppelin, getting Wanda’s poor kitty, Sensamilian, stoned in a paper bag and giving her rides on the turntable. At that time, we made a pact. That when we were old, we would all find each other, go live in the same nursing home, rocking away, getting stoned, and listen to metal.

I was a normal kid from a normal family. I had my share of trauma drama growing up that led me to be a little more rebellious than I should have been. There was something about the time…the 70’s and early 80’s were just like that, even if you were a “good” kid.

During high school, I spread out my social circle. I was one of the “smart” kids and I was an outsider, having transferred into high school from a private school. My mom was the Special Ed Resource teacher at my very large high school. I had a lot to live down. I was in some of the geeky classes, so I had some geeky friends. I was in performing arts and drama, so I had some artsy drama friends. I had some cheerleader friends. And I had my large group of partying, burnout friends. I found I had aspects of my personality that worked well in each group.

I fell in love for the first time when I was 14. I remember being really pissed off that my parents liked to refer to it as “puppy love”. At 14, I felt like an adult and I felt belittled by my parents because they didn’t take things going on with me seriously. I snuck out of the house on a regular basis, so I could see him. I hitchhiked. I punched holes in walls. I cussed at my parents. I shoplifted. I got good grades. I partied with teachers from my high school.

I did a lot of stupid stuff. I felt like I had good reasons at the time. Yes, some of it was searching for attention. Some of the things I did were a subconscious cry for help. But I was still a decent kid and not all that different from everyone else out there.

Now, as the mom of a 13 year old, I think back to my teenage years. We swore that we would always listen to rock, that we would roll with the changes, that we wouldn’t impose the same restrictions on our kids as our parents had on us. We vowed to be approachable and supportive of our kids. I vowed to just stay alive and out of jail.

It seems that the majority of those who made these same vows forgot about them. It’s amazing how many people, in ALL groups, were huge partiers in high school and college, but, upon entering parenthood, somehow regained their “purity”. In my humble opinion, that’s bigotry.

I love parenthood. I love being around kids of all ages. I don’t think I am one of them. There are no delusions; I’m not trying to relive my lost youth. I’m 42 and proud to have gotten this far. I’m proud of my kids and I think I’m doing a decent job raising them. But the one thing that I do that some of my friends don’t agree with…I am honest with my kids about how I grew up and the stuff I did.

The challenge I face now is being able to be myself without having it affect my children. Last year, some of the kids in the Jr. High decided that I was a “hippy”. Now, in my estimation, a hippy might be someone who is stoned a lot and doesn’t bath all that much. Lol But giving it more thought, I realized that I actually am quite BoHo. After all, I’m a belly dancer. I wear a lot of bracelets. I look young enough to still get away with wearing low rise jeans and clogs. I go barefoot a lot. I have ankle bracelets and toe rings on all the time. I get into holistic healing and metaphysical stuff.

My son, Reece, is a lot more conservative than I am. And you know what? That’s just fine! I think he’s a great kid. He’s smart and talented. He’s interesting. But he’s currently going through that stage in life where being different isn’t good. Do I want my 13 year old to be “Emo”? Not necessarily, but I probably could be considered that, at least as a teenager. I wrote my share of dark prose poetry that was good enough to win contests. I never was a cutter, but I certainly had friends that were. (I don’t agree with cutting, btw, and if you want to talk about it, I’m happy to.) I certainly still enjoy punk and it’s beginnings.

Do I want my kids to be jocks? Actually, I don’t, because I don’t really enjoy sports, but if that makes them happy, I can deal with it.

Do I want my kids to be brains? Well, they are really smart. I do hope they use what they were given for something good. I don’t think it would hurt the world for them to end up as scientists, or professors, or engineers.

What I want most is for my kids to grown up to be themselves, to accept themselves for who they are, be happy and be open-minded, no matter what course in life they choose. Whether I agree with them or not.

When I was a teenager, I never had the goal of growing up as a role model for anyone else. I would have guessed that I would have become the exact opposite, actually. But some of my friends consider me to be a good influence on their kids. The question of my honesty comes up, though. Could a kid who looks up to me as a pseudo roll model think that, to be like me, they need to repeat all the bad stuff I did? God, I would certainly hope not. I know you can’t learn through others’ mistakes, but I think by being honest, maybe I’m just giving them a non-judgmental adult ear and opinion.

Maybe that’s why parents decide that they somehow must put themselves on a self-righteous pedestal. But then, at the same time, with so many parents “forgetting” (and I truly think they DO forget) what they were like when they were young, it makes it more difficult for the parents who decide to be upfront with who they are to their kids. I don’t want to be an embarrassment to my sons. But I do feel that I have earned the right to be myself.

For those of my “kids” who are reading this…keep in mind that, whether your parents remember or not, at one time, they were your age. Even the purest of parents probably did something that they aren’t proud of or that pissed off their parents. Also, remember that someday, you will BE them, whether you think so or not. You are learning now how to interact with own kids. If you don’t like the way you are treated, then don’t do the same stuff to your kids when they are your age. I’ll place bets that your parents treat you a lot like their own parents treated them.

When I became pregnant with Reece, Alan and I sat down and talked about all the dysfunction we were raised with and what we were going to try to do and try not to do with our own kids. I don’t remember ever hearing about anything past early childhood that my parents did that was wrong. It’s not a good way to grow up. Those are unrealistic expectations, even though I knew my parents loved me and were doing that to set a good example.

For parents – find a way to make yourself less of an alien to your kids. And remember that they aren’t aliens. Chances are good that they aren’t all that much different than you were. I look at my son’s friends and each of them reminds me of one of my own friends growing up. They have a lot of the same concerns and problems and they deserve to be taken seriously.

Sure, I yell at my kids. I ground them. At times, I might even swear at them. I’ve been known to go a bit ballistic and throw things around when they aren’t doing what I say. But if they have something bothering them, they also know they can come and talk to me about anything at all. If a kid has the guts to come to an adult, especially their parent, with a problem they consider being serious, they should be treated with respect and honesty, even if the parent thinks the problem is trivial.

I tell the other kids that I am just the “cool mom”, because I’m not THEIR mom. But what I think makes me a “cool mom” is just that I don’t mind listening to something that’s really important to a teenager and giving them some advice based on my own experiences. Being an adult who can also be a friend and mentor is more beneficial then being overly strict OR being overly laid back. You can have rules, you can be treated with respect, and you can still be an adult version of yourself.

The proof of my parenting theory is yet to be proved. If my kids make it to adulthood with no trauma caused by having me as a parent, then I’m going to feel really successful at the job I’ve done. If I can help a few other kids not do some of the stupid stuff I did, just by giving them an adult who cares, then I’ve been really successful.

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