There’s no-one quite like your teenage son or daughter to put you right about your shortcomings, is there?
I mean if you hate your Daddy you’ve got to let him know, right?
And tell him why and how much.
Who here has not felt the full eyebrow-arching outrage of their teenager’s displaced anger and conviction?
Or wilted in the sulphuric aftermath, indignant and ashamed after responding in kind?
I was purely angry at first, because maybe anger is the easiest emotion to access in the face of such an onslaught
That was me a few weeks back when my teenage daughter and I had a stand-up row in the kitchen.
You don’t need a battleground for a confrontation. Anywhere will do.
This one started amid the dumb pots and plates of the kitchen, ostensibly about things not being as tidy there as they might be.
Let’s just say, K let fly, and I reacted. Badly.
I was purely angry at first, because maybe anger is the easiest emotion to access in the face of such an onslaught.
For both parties.
The rainbow of her anger might be reflections and refractions of joy, angst, sadness, exaltation, omnipotence, isolation and plain old confusion.
Sitting at the wheel of this Ferrari engine beast of a brain, is it any wonder the learner driver often eschews gears and sublety — ‘This is Teenager Brain Control: ambivalence is too complicated, just hit that fury button’.
Now anger might be all the rage in these Trumpian days of division and disenchantment, but my own version is all sound and fury inarticulateness, so galling for one like myself who would take a certain pride in my words.
Why I even live off them, with my work as a newspaper sub-editor!
But, the underlying truth of what she said had indeed steered that teenage arrowhead to the bullseye of my heart
Anyway, after our row, my anger was joined by sadness, mortification, and disillusion.
And the queasy admission that there was truth in what my daughter said about me.
They know how to get to you, kids, don’t they?
Actually, that’s not quite true: I knew even as the battle raged there was well-observed truth steeling the shrapnel that raked my defences — all the better to pierce you with, Daddy! — but to admit so there and then would have felt weak and vacillating.
And besides, her actual words and delivery were so damn rude and disrespectful, right?
But, the underlying truth of what she said had indeed steered that teenage arrowhead to the bullseye of my heart.
What kind of dad was I anyway: laying down the law of respectful discourse, aghast with her liberal use of the F word, while she is flailing and railing in the psychedelic mosh pit of her adolescence?
Ecstatic highs, seismic lows, and the endless in-betweens, with no manual or trusted reference beyond your equally buffeted peers — and wondering whether you should stick with higher level maths!!
Not doing a lot for her there, was I?
So much for her to deal with in these less than halcyon days of online puffing up and tearing down, fitting in and standing out, acceptance and rejection, and the teenager’s mot du jour, stress.
And despite it all, or maybe because of it all, still needing your parents’ love, support, acceptance and attention, and encouragement to make good life decisions — even as you seemingly do your level best to bite off that nurturing hand.
I have been thinking about all this for weeks.
The timing of the attack surprised me more than anything.
We had enjoyed a period of regular enough calm and order.
K is in her transition year in school, and, on the surface, things have been going really well for her.
Yes, she was under some pressure in that she was involved in two different acting projects simultaneously, as well as her usual schoolwork.
And she is prone to conflating things and lashing out from her feelings of being overwhelmed and anxious.
Which we don’t often recognise or respond to, as parents, drawn in by her manifest fury rather than her latent insecurities.
You could hardly think of two more contrasting acting roles: the part of Mary Warren in the local drama group’s production of Arthur Miller’s weighty The Crucible, and then that of a ditzy wisecracking character in her school production, a lovely frothy musical version of Legally Blonde.
Mary Warren — Karron Graves in the 1996 fim version
The Crucible is a fictionalised account of the Salem witch trials in 17th century Massachusetts, and the parallels with the infamous McCarthy era in America, when the play was written.
Mary Warren is a complex character, one of a group of young girls who accuse a number of locals of being witches. In the subsequent trials, she first of all makes her accusation, then tries to take back her original confession, and then under pressure, says her master, John Proctor, had forced her to do so, and he is hanged.
We’ve been to see her in the play, and K was absolutely terrific in a really heavy role, with lots of lines, all beautifully delivered and acted.
A and I were so proud of her, impressed by her talent and her performance, and we so enjoyed seeing her revel in all the positive feedback, especially from all her pals who went along.
You might know the movie version of Legally Blonde, with Reese Witherspoon, the feel-good story of sorority gal Elle Woods, who attempts to win back her ex-boyfriend by getting a law degree?
Well, there’s a musical version too, and it’s on soon in K’s school hall.
But, listen, we parents just have to forget about any notion of balance and fair-play
K is playing the colourful Paulette character, and K just blew myself and A away recently when she sang a number for us in our sitting room, all jazz hands and convincing American razz and pizazz.
So, all was going well, until it wasn’t.
It has taken a while for myself and K to resume normal-like relations, and in fairness to her, she did come to express her remorse, as did I, and we talked things through, if not fully out.
In these situations, there is, for me, always the fear of entrenchment, schism and irreparable harm.
I know enough people who work as therapists and social workers, and have heard many times the tales of fathers and daughters, and fathers and sons, who fell out and who have never really made it up.
Or even became estranged till death.
So I know these relationships don’t always work out happily ever after.
But in the day-to-day exchanges, it can be so frustrating, getting caught up in the crossfire of teenage tirades and my own bludgeoning bluster, and not being able to see the blossoming talents and vivacious spark and character of my fabulous daughter for the smoke of bickering and confrontation.
And behind it all, I know she is doing really well out there in the world of school and friends, and is already somebody.
But, listen, we parents just have to forget about any notion of balance and fair-play.
And toss away those lingering dreams of ever being Daddy Cool.
She will shout at me again. Will shake those lustrous locks in indignation and flash those soulful blue eyes in annoyance, and maybe even snarl her disgust and derision, but all I ask is that it passes off soon, and the damage be containable.
That I respond better.
Take no shit, but don’t give it out either.
And trust that our love be always salvageable and strong.
Then I hear from A what our daughter said to her the other morning on the way to school:
“I do like dad, he just annoys me sometimes”.
I’ll take that for now.
Gladly.
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EndaStories 
ahh those wonderful teenage years where you can become the brunt of all the angst and suddenly all those years of nurturing are thrown in your face with a few home truths for added measure. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt (although it probably doesn’t fit anymore and I’ve got to go through it all again!) My adult kids are still around, and the parenting balance has changed now because they are the adults and they like to tell me what to do! I don’t listen though. (pah, what do they know, they can’t turn the tables on me I’m the one with the experience, lol) Moments like this happen, and they hurt, and things are said that are not meant to be said. But, honestly, with all the other stuff you mentioned it sounds like you are doing a great job. The only parents that fail are the ones that lose hope.
Good to see you back btw 🙂
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Haha. I can’t see them making you do their bidding, Anne! And thanks.
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We’ve all been there if we’ve had teenage daughters! Trust me, things improve with age – on both sides 😊
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Ah sure what fun would it be without a dash of conflictual spice, Clive?😀
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I’m all for the quietest life possible. Teenagers tend to get in the way of that 😉
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oh wow, the perfect storm – as you say, I guess it’s all about perspective. I think most often we don’t think about what effect our words may have on others, always worth thinking about twice 🙂 #dreamteam
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It sure is!!!
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the teenage years arent easy. but you and your child grow as people together
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I sure hope so!! Thanks Claire
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Ah, teenage angst – I remember those shouting matches well. But like Clive said, things do improve with age.
Happy Parenting, Enda!
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#GlobalBlogging
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Thanks Veronica … it would just be so easy if they were reasonable: and always saw it our way!!!
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Ah, we were like that once, weren’t we? Except that we didn’t dare raise our voices or talk back! And if I were to say that, my son would reply “OK, Boomer!”
Laurie wrote a very nice post on this – https://meditationsinmotion.wordpress.com/2019/11/15/ok-boomer/
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This has taken me back to when we had 3 teenage boys living at home, made the terrible twos seem so easy #bloggerclubuk@_karendennis
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The terrible twos were a cinch even if it didn’t seem like it at the time, Karen!
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Oh Enda I can’t even begin to imagine the turmoil of it all…and I have another two girls on the way. That will make a total of four! I just keep thinking about my poor husband – how will he manage when the reach their teenage years? How will either of us?? It is one intimidating arena and I won’t lie it fills me with fear sometimes. I at least hope that by writing down your feelings and experience of the row in question has been somewhat therapeutic #KCACOLS
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Four … OMG!! In fairness, they will have allies in each other. I think our girl might have benefitted from having a sister!! But she is a great kid, with a few things that need to be ironed out a little. She’s fine in the world, and with us more often than not.
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Oh gosh, my daughter is only 4 but I’m already dreading the teenage years! Especially if she’s anything like I was as a teenager! Thanks so much for linking up at #KCACOLS. Hope you come back again next time!
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Thanks for linking up to #WOTW
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I remember having these kind of arguments in my teens. So much going on at that age. Your daughter is lucky that you can take a step back and see it for all that it is. Great post. #KCACOLS
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No always though, Jo!!! Thank you
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Back for #globalblogging !
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I do love your posts Enda, but when I read about the teenage years from the parenting perspective I firstly gain way more appreciation for my parents having to deal with me and secondly get scared for when I have four teenagers under my roof… #DreamTeam
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Not trying to scare you Kirsty; maybe I am guilty of not emphasising the positives enough! Teens can be amazing too!!!
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Pingback: #DreamTeam Bloggers Linky 182 - Navigating Baby
The teenage years do sound tough – I remember how tough they were from a teenage girl’s perspective and I am sure that trying to navigate them as a parent will be equally tough too. Well done to K for juggling two very different demanding roles and it sounds like she is doing them both very well. #WotW
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Well Enda, before I get into replying to your post, may I make a heartfelt apology to the Republic on behalf of the UK. Especially England. Let’s just hope we can all be friends in future.
Anyway, tough this fatherhood thing, innit? I can kinda see where you are coming from. Decades of life experience and knowing that steering your kids in one direction, the better direction, is all you want to do but they have their own ideas that aren’t quite the same. And (sorry for beginning a sentence with ‘and’, I know as a sub-editor you probably want to kneecap me right now) you simply have to stand back and let them make their own way ion the world, make their own mistakes and be there to pick up the pieces. It naturally leads to tension. I simply hope when all is said and done you and your daughter will look back on these days in latre years and maybe not look back in fondness, but at least be able to laugh about them.
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Hi John, what strange and bewildering times we lived in. All I can say, and being wildly optimistic for a change, maybe BJ’s huge majority will mean he cuts the BS and actually tries to make the Brexit landing be as soft as possible. He no longer has to deal with the lunatic fringe (DUP et al) so I’m hoping of course that behind closed doors he drops the populist sound bites and, well, lies, and negotiates something useful. Howzat! On the daughter front, yes, I am hoping to be able to look back one day and laugh, with her preferably. She’s strong-willed and feisty and doing well outside, so maybe when she learns to taper her first impulses with her family, we might get to experience what her pals and teachers see! Cheers, John
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I am absolutely mortified over some of the ways I treated my parents when I was a teen. Thank god they always forgave me!
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Good job indeed … selective memory can cut both ways, Heather … thankfully!!! Hope your books are doing well
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