As I’m sitting here in my kitchen writing there’s an ice machine buzzing that my husband just bought for the household. It’s kind of noisy and is definitely the largest appliance on the counter. But it makes great chewable ice—similar to the ice used in Sonic fountain drinks—and it makes my family happy after the heat dome impacted Seattle. So I’ll deal.
So parenting! Most of my friends with kids have kids around the same age as mine. Some of my friends don’t have kids. While in San Francisco a year ago I became friends with a slightly older set of moms that have teenagers, and while chatting with one of them recently I wondered if there were tears in her eyes (we were on zoom) when she mentioned that her two teenage girls no longer found going out to eat with their parents a worthwhile way to spend time. How to bond with someone that is extremely excited about going their own way?
As the memories of the early years of being a mom become fuzzy nostalgia, my general advice is to be prepared to ask for help, read a book by Emily Oster, and realize that change is in your future. What I’m going to chat about now is my experience with parenting a female tween.
Over the weekend I was on a camping trip, and got some second-hand advice about mothering a tween/teen. “Be like the walls of a pool”. So, in this person’s explanation of that analogy, be passive, waiting, and there for support when needed. I think I have a better analogy.
I Learned to Belay!
It was hot last week in the Pacific Northwest. Very hot. Record-breaking hot.
So did I cancel my first rock climbing lesson? Nope.
I’m not sure why I didn’t cancel. When the first forecasts for extreme over 100-temperatures funneled into my awareness I started fussing about the garden outside, watering daily in the days preceding and days of the heat. I bought an Hawaiian ice machine (I know, I know, so many ice appliances this summer!) and helped the kids get comfortable with sleeping in a hammock and cot out on the deck while the daylight hovered on the horizon until after 10 at night. We spent two days by Lake Washington, dipping in whenever we felt like we couldn’t bare the heat *in the shade*, which was approximately every half hour during the hottest part of the days.
But on the third day, the hottest day, I knew that the heat was going to end. I called the rock climbing gym and asked if they were open. “We are, and it’s cooler than outside with all our fans.”
I showed up with a giant bottle of water and put on my borrowed-from-the-gym rock climbing shoes. I met my instructor - a young woman in her 20s. There were 4 people in my group, all female.
I tightened my leg straps. I tightened the waist. I threaded the rope and created the double-figure-8 knot. I futzed with the carabiner while awaiting instructions. I drank a lot of water. Then … I belayed!
The woman I partnered with was taking this intro lesson for the same reason I was: to belay her child who was also into rock climbing. There was a thrill when I let go and this friendly stranger held me up in the air; we laughed as we tried to remember the correct communication phrases. I braced myself as this other woman climbed and then she said “Take!”.
This Mom is Ready to Take
Today after I get home from work I’m going to take my daughter on a trip to get her a harness. She’s been convinced that rock climbing is “her sport” for over two years and I feel like it’s time to really recognize her interest with her own equipment.
So basically rock climbing is trust. Trust that the other person is watching you, slightly tense but in it for the long haul until you’re ready to come down from the climb.
I can’t think of a better comparison to how I want my daughter to view my role as her mother as she learns how to not only climb, but navigate her way through middle school and beyond. I want her to climb, to choose her own path, and go as high as she feels comfortable climbing. But I am ready, waiting, for the possibility she’ll fall. Or fail. Or needs a supportive break.
After years of directing and working to form a tiny little personality to into a fully autonomous human, I’m shifting roles to be more supportive of the freedom to explore and make mistakes. I’m ready to keep her from falling to the ground, I’m ready to wait until she’s ready to give me the directive that she’s ready for her next move. It’s not passive, it’s work to constantly pull in the slack of the rope and watch the climber go up. To gently provide just a little bit of tension with the line so she knows I’m there belaying her.