tweens and teens |

So now I have a Facebook account. This seems strange, odd, really odd, like it’s something I would have done in high school, but is just beyond me now. Yet two of my friends – one a slight bit older and one a slight bit younger – have assured me that this is a thing I need to do. “The day is coming,” they both warned, “that you will need an account. Your kids will be out there. You want to be out there and you have to be ready.”

This, too, I struggle with. Not that my kids will be “out there,” necessarily, but what being out there means. Another step. Another step towards peers. Another step away from family. Let me just confess right now–if your incredible intuitive skills haven’t already pegged it–that this whole kid-growing up, mom-letting-go thing is not going well for me. It is far harder than I imagined and happening far sooner than I expected. But here we are, with time moving swiftly and me treading water, wondering how we got here so fast. I am intensely aware that I sound like a tired cliché, but I could swear that we were just reading The Magic Tree House series. Okay, sure, we moved on to Harry and Ron and Hermoine, but Facebook? How can it be? No matter; time keeps moving and so here we are. But, I digress.

Here’s what’s even stranger than the fact that I have joined the thousands in this weirdly-intimate-at-arms-length online community: there’s a good chance that many of you, my friends, are among those thousands. You are poking and writing on people’s walls and all sorts of other things none of us ever heard of back when fraternities still had taps in the basement. You’ve just never mentioned it, and why would you? What on earth am I going to write on your wall?

As surprised as I am to find that Facebook is not only for tween and teens and young bucks who think they’re all grown-up but really aren’t (otherwise why would they post that completely inebriated photo?), I’m not at all surprised that we are all drawn to this new type of communication. We’re at an interesting juncture in history, I think, where it’s becoming easier and easier to communicate: in an instant we can shoot someone a message, send them a text, or collect “top friends” by the dozens. At the same time, it’s getting harder and harder to forge real relationships, based on depth and trust and shared actual (vs. virtual) experiences. It will be interesting to see where this takes us, and our kids, don’t you think?

-Kirsetin

When my children were younger and I was knee deep in laundry (all those baby clothes!), I envied the mothers of older children whose days and nights weren’t filled with Cheerios and puzzles and Barney (oh yes, this was a few years back). When these mothers of older children said, “Oh, it gets harder, just you wait and see,” I thought they were full of it, or had had really easy babies, or were just lame. Harder? How can it possibly be harder than pretending to have endless patience while changing eight diapers every couple of hours in a sleep-deprived stupor. No way.

Well, way. Yep, sorry to say, those mothers were right. Oh, sure, I get a little more sleep now – lots more, actually. But I know that it’s a temporary luxury, which will come to a screeching halt in a few years when my boys hit high school. And, it’s also true that I don’t have to feed anyone from a spoon or help anyone in the bathroom anymore. There are also several hours in a day when my kids are at school, when, theoretically, I should have time to myself. But because I must be an “involved” parent, instead of relaxing at home with a great book, you will usually find me at a PTO meeting, or in computer class, or even running the class Valentine’s Day party, which is definitely not my forte.

But what those mothers knew, that I was simply in denial about, was this: when your kids get bigger, so do their problems. When my boys were three, “bully” was just some word in a book, an idea to talk about, not some actual kid on the playground who I want to string up by his toes and interrogate. When my boys were three, the pre-puberty hormones hadn’t kicked in, which – as far as I can tell – is the boy equivalent of that time of the month, except it lasts for about a year. Big fun, let me tell you. And when my boys were three, I didn’t worry at all whether we were making the right choices for his future. I mean, at three, they just want you to be with them. Isn’t that great?

I mean, I really miss those toddler years, even the baby laundry.

-Kirsetin

Category Archives: tweens and teens

The Writing Is On the Wall

The Good Old Days