The teenager and the whale

Parenting the not-to-neurotypical teen is a tsunami. 

One moment you are floating in a calm ocean of peacefulness, the next surfing a giant wave or stranded on a beach with your surfboard wondering where the water went, only to get hit by an avalanche of turbulent emotions that churn up every single cord in your heart and leave you - after the water moves on - wrapped in cords that look like old skanky fishing line, seaweed between your teeth, fish scales dotting your skin like shimmering glitter bombs and a general feeling of mal de mer under a happy smiling sky. 

What the ....

A small case in point. Teen 1 has a job offer that requires some job shadowing. Here is the email that triggered yesterday's crisis: 

We are happy to inform you that your application to become a xxx with us has been successful!

The process of becoming a xxx with us is as follows; 

1) Complete the xx indemnity and xxx information sheet and send these back to me via email. Here is the link for the indemnity:  ___

Then I have attached the information form, please complete this as well. Finally, we will also need a copy of your ID/passport for our records. A picture of the document will suffice. 

2) You will need to complete one shadow shift. This is a full day shift to get an understanding of what our processes are and how they work. This has to be completed on a weekend day so please send me a WhatsApp message and let me know which dates you would be available to complete this shift. 

 

3) Complete 3 shadow lessons, these will be scheduled via WhatsApp.  

4) Attend our Coaching course: I will inform you when we plan the next one. 

Please let me know if you have any further questions! 

So, that's not too hard, right? Forms, ID, shadow shift (date already sorted),  three shadow lessons and a coaching course. Nothing to worry about there. 

I had to help fill in the forms and send the id. The online form we did together. But sending the WhatsApp triggered something and oh my flipping gosh. How hard is it to send dates available? 

First round of excuses:  I haven't had breakfast, I haven't had lunch, I'll chat to him after my first shift, I'll send it later. 

Then: Back off, you're annoying me, you're being a pain, it's my life, I'll do it when I am ready (while watching another movie on her movie website and chatting to her friends for hours)

Me: This is like an exam paper. You need to follow the instructions closely. You get a certain amount of time to do this. You have to send a WA. Not an email, not talk to him.

Teen: I can't just send him a WA. I'll just discuss it at my first shift like "hey, what do ... blah blah."

Me: Nope. WhatsApp. It's clear what he wants. Do it as asked. You are in the real world and this is how an employer works. They ask, you do it their way. 

Teen: You don't know anything.

Me (Gen X or Z or whatever - arghghghghgh): Yes Child I Love, this is how it goes. You need to do this now as we drive to purchase equipment for you for this job. Don't make him wait to hear from you. 

Stormy silence. Grumpiness. The feel of electricity in the air before a thunderstorm explodes and zaps you. While navigating my way to Ottery in unfamiliar Cape Flats suburbs.

Me: You know, you make me feel like Jonah a lot. 

Teen: Huh. 

Me: Some days I am swallowed by your emotions, other days spat up on a beach, then I need surf booties to keep my balance on the whale and other days its 3 days underwater in the dark. With smelly fish in my hair.

Muffled snicker from teen.

Me: Right? It's kind of a rollercoaster at time. 

Teen starts to laugh; Yes, it is.

Finally calm is sort of restored. And then the lovely guy from the equipment shop treated her like gold and gave her a whopping discount, knew some of the girls in her class and we walked out on a high. 

Beautiful calm blue seas again. Yoh. Ek se. I love this child fiercely but I definitely need a crash helmet, sticky boots to keep my balance and perhaps a fistful of snacks to tide me over in the belly of whatever whale gulps me up. 

Farewell Debbie L

It's surreal to open Facebook and see a post saying farewell to a teacher from the kids' primary school. A photo full of life and laughter, but a life no longer here. We bumped shoulders in the corridors, shared smiles in passing, I heard the sound of her voice in every school play which she courageously directed, cancer notwithstanding. 

As I stood in the circle of my husband's arms this morning, heart sore and eyes watery, the suddenness of "no more" felt like a wave breaking over me. 

And while I mourn for Debbie's bright light transferred to heaven's lampstands, and feel her loss keenly in my heart as I know all who met her and loved her must feel, there is a part of me that weeps for the coming loss of days for our own family when we will not be able to have just one more cup of tea, another walk on a beach, grab a hug. We won't walk holding hands, or share an old story with fresh eyes and ringing laughter. Our memories will be all that we are left holding, and we won't make more together because of the distance that separates us. 

And as much as I rail and wish and plead, I cannot change that. I will respect my parents' choice. 

But oh, my heart longs. We have today. I want to dance and share and walk hand in hand on that thin white line that links birth and death while we can. 

And as much as I rail and wish and plead, I cannot change that. I must respect my parents' choice. 

Walking on the line

 Four sudden stories: 

1. An older mother who "last 2 days she was struggling to breathe. She got up this morning to go to a booked appointment at x hospital, folded slowly to the floor and passed away."

2. "My son was standing on the train platform with my grandson when he had a heart attack. They got him to hospital and then he had a second heart attack. Turns out he had pulmonary embolisms and they went through his heart."

3. "I have just been diagnosed with motor neurone disease. It's irreversible and they can't do anything for it. I have to start handing over my work and I want to spend what time I have with my wife."

4. The U14A team are wearing armbands today as their goalkeeper lost his dad this week. 

How many of us are walking that fine thin line between this breath and no more breath? I am glad I don't know how thin that line can get. Or how thick or thin my line might be. 

We/I teeter-totted along the embolism line three years ago. I am grateful each morning for all I have - my Adam, my Jess and my Luke. 

Sometimes it's important to stop and evaluate. What am I spending my breath on?

#lookforthelight

My so-not-perfect ...

There is a wonderful woman I have known since I was a teen. Elegant, appropriate, classy, composed, confident, neat, purposeful, artistic. She is authentically lovely, inside and out. She's built a beautiful family, has a coaching business, overcome breast cancer, takes great photographs and speaks at women's events. Today she posted some of her stunning family moments capturing what makes her heart happy. 

Her youngest son irons. Seriously. 

Her home-grown butternuts are beautiful and her children eat her delicious roasted butternut dishes. I have to hide butternut creatively in my house (ask me about my stealth curry, syrup-drenched flapjacks and potjie-mashed butternut stew). 

Her table settings are stunning. My table currently has my huge cat Ninja napping on it with all four paws in the air. 

Photos of her house show an immaculate kitchen and so much space. We're overflowing with stored G'ma stuff. 

I'm learning to own myself. Last night we chased yowling cats out of our garden (Adam running around in his PJs with a bucket of water while Jess and I laughed till we cried). We had a non-frozen banana crisis with Luke's morning smoothie. The cats have had their morning chase leaving my sort of perfectly-made white duvet'd bed with a virulent case of black cat hair clumps. The southeaster has blown a zillion leaves onto our cobbledy-hobbledy verandah. I'm in charge of dusting and cleaning so there's dust and the house is mostly clean. We didn't have enough stuff to fill Luke's lunchbox 'cos he won't eat sarmies so I filled it with jungle bars, apples, mango, some chicken strips and a packet of chips which will, no doubt, only get him to 10am and he's at school until at least 5pm playing matches. Oh, and I'm waiting for THAT call from my parents who refuse to accept the help they need. 

My life is messy, silly, and so NOT in a straight line. And I love it. There's grace, and laughter, tears, arguments and imperfection.  Teen huhs and teen hugs. And this is my story of God in the small things. In growing little people to adulthood. In learning how to parent and be a spouse. So not perfect. Mine.

Note: I know that this really lovely woman has overcome a lot. That beautiful pictures always cover the hard roads people travel. That we capture the moments of beauty to buoy our hearts in the in-between times. That hope lives in the heart beats.  

#lookcloserfindmore #iwillnevertakethisforgranted #lookforthelight

#teenliferocks #ithankyougodforthismostamazing