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Some wise words on stepparenting a teen…

“Nothing you do for children is ever wasted.”

– Garrison Keillor, Radio Show Host

“Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet.”

– Helen Keller

“Humor is the great thing, the saving thing…”

– Mark Twain

All quotes borrowed from The 312 Best Things About Being A Stepmom by Cynthia L. Copeland

Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

I just received the following Google News Alert for: Stepmother

Daughter breaks mum’s hip in death-bed bust-up

Death-bed bust up?

According to the story, a disgruntled stepdaughter broke “her stepmum’s hip by throwing her to the floor in a hospital bustup …” Poor stepmum is expected to walk with a limp for the rest of her life.

The story says, “relationships in the family had been strained.” Uh, apparently.

Wow. Have all our stepdaughters gone mad? Have we driven them criminal-crazy?

Here’s my advice. The next time your stepdaughter asks to borrow your favorite pair of designer shoes– for God’s sake, let her! Think about it this way: if you say no and then she throws you to the ground and you end up with a shattered hip, you won’t be able to wear them again anyhow.

Like millions of Americans, I have been touched and inspired by the story of Randy Pausch and his national bestseller, The Last Lecture. Randy recently lost his battle with pancreatic cancer, but not before leaving behind a powerful legacy to his children and poignant insights for the rest of us. His Last Lecture, as described on the jacket cover, is about “the importance of overcoming obstacles, of enabling the dreams of others and seizing every moment.”

Randy has strong advice for our kids…

On a recent return trip from Boston to Austin, I picked Randy’s book up in the airport bookstore. I’d nearly finished it by the time we landed. I immediately passed it on to The Husband and The Tall One is next in line.

In addition to asking adults to rethink their lives, Randy has strong advice for our kids who haven’t yet entirely started living theirs. The following is one of my favorites:

No job is beneath you.

The Tall One is sixteen and will be returning to school in the fall as a junior. He’ll also be joining the work force for the first time. He’s not thrilled with this news. Like most kids, he’d rather we shove an envelope of money under his door and let him be. But understanding this will never happen, he’s resolved to get a job. There’s just one problem: He doesn’t want to start at the bottom.

To date, we’ve been unsuccessful convincing him that sixteen-year-olds have limited options.

So naturally, I cheered out loud in my coach seat when Randy addressed the “growing sense of entitlement among young people today.” The Husband and I have often wondered about this; where does this attitude come from? In our case, The Tall One is surrounded by educated and career-minded adults, yet our strong work ethic seems to have skipped over his generation. I don’t get it.

Our strong work ethic has skipped over his generation.

The Husband and I go back and forth on how much we should ride the kid. Trying to instill motivation and humility is exhausting work and to be honest, there are many days when our fatigue wins out and we say– Forget it! Let him fail or succeed on his terms.

Randy calls this giving up.

“When you’re screwing up and nobody says anything to you anymore, that means they’ve given up on you,” he writes. I would never want The Tall One to come to the realization that his parents had thrown in the towel– that we no longer believed in his potential.

So, enjoy the final three weeks of summer, Tall One. After that, I suggest you brush up on your hospitality and coffee-making skills. You’re going to have to work hard for that corner office.

And you can thank Randy for that.

Weird is the word in Texas.

Transplants from the Bay Area, The Husband and I were super psyched to participate in the Keep Austin Weird 5k and Festival this past weekend where locals run in ridiculously “weird” attire to the beat of local bands (well, not everyone as evidenced by our hum-drum outfits left).

Had I participated, I might have mimicked a pixie of a woman in metallic blue tights and a hot pink tutu. It wasn’t the weirdest outfit out there, but it appealed to my flashy Tinker bell side. What can I say? She sparkled.

In many ways, this is Austin’s version of the Bay To Breakers. Except for one distinct difference: there was no prancing and dancing in the fog. We ran like slugs in upper ninety degree heat. I have now fully grasped the term: Hotter Than Hell.

But, the beer and the Texadelphia cheese steaks at the end of the 3.1 miles almost made me forget my wheezing breath and disgusting butt sweat. That is, until Austin’s resident cross-dresser– Leslie-- passed by in a tuxedo g-string and a cowboy hat.

Keep Austin Weird- Amen.

Photos courtesy of Dieter VonSchramm

Last night, The Tall One went to his first concert and naturally, it was to see Marilyn Manson, lover of entrails and all things disturbing. Even though devil worship and hell-raising lyrics aren’t really my thing, I was excited for him. This was a Big Boy step. I encouraged him to wear black lipstick. Or to paint his face entirely. With chicken blood.

He gave me this look like, You really should be put out of your misery, you sad, sheltered woman.

I’m not a total dolt, people. I’m a product of the eighties– I get flamboyancy and androgynous stage antics. I mean, who doesn’t still secretly listen to Colour By Numbers by Boy George? I can dig it.

His girlfriend, Snuffleupagus, came to the door dressed in perfect Manson fashion. Slabs of black eyeliner, a neck collar under lock and key, safety pins stuck through her lobes and a plaid corset/nasty school girl situation over shredded jeans.

“Ya’ll have fun,” The Husband and I belted from the front porch.

I was so proud. There was my stepson– going off to party with the devil. Not a little kid anymore, but a teenager flirting with the dark side.

I want your advice and I want it now. All suggestions will be considered, if not immediately implemented.

Remember this kid? He was the non-talking, Nietzsche-loving teenager in Little Miss Sunshine who hated every member of his dysfunctional family. He scribbled angry notes like “Don’t talk to me”…”you’re all idiots”… that kind of thing.

Well, I’m pretty sure he’s taken up residence in my house. And I’m not sure what to do with him.

Step-Ladies, I’m here to confess. I’m at a loss. I’m out of answers, band-aids or effective disciplinary action. I need your wisdom or perhaps, an invitation to stay in your guest room for a good ten days?

The Dilemma: How does a stepmom (specifically- ME) reach her sullen* teenage stepson who:

A) doesn’t want to study (or talk about studying)
B) doesn’t want to talk (or talk about talking)
C) doesn’t like his father (asking him to talk)
D) doesn’t like me (asking him about anything else)
E) doesn’t like– big surprise– family meetings.

If at all possible, I’d like to have this problem solved by EOB today, or at the latest, by the time we sit down to another family dinner. Most evenings, this usually happens around 7PM.

Thank you,

*cheerless, churlish, cross, dismal, dour, frowning, glum, gruff, moody, morose, peevish, pouty, silent, somber, sour, stubborn, sulky, surly, and unsociable

Photo courtesy of Alexander Thompson