SavageTimes

Going on an adventure with teenagers is always like walking a tightrope.  Maybe I’ve said it before in this blog.  It’s a running reminder in my head, so I probably say it a lot.

It doesn’t matter if they requested said adventure.

If something gets up their butts before the adventure, or on the way to the adventure, or during the adventure, the entire adventure turns into THEM.

If you happily blocked out all memories of being an adolescent as soon as you were able to legally drink, I’m jealous.

I remember my own adolescence vividly, at least the enormity of many emotions: how HUGE and ugly I felt my body was; how DESPERATELY I loved the boy who sat in front of me in Spanish.  How HORRIBLE my day became when I reached out to him and he did not return the favor (my expectations were so blown out of proportion he would have needed to declare his love for me in a song while playing guitar on one knee.  And then I would have been HORRIBLY embarrassed).  How PASSIONATE I felt when I was singing, acting, building sets, writing, or anything that let loose my creativity. How DIFFICULT the day was when anything didn’t go the way I had envisoned it (and since I was way, way high on manic mode or way, way, low in depression, my visions were usually out of whack anyway).

So, I get my own teenagers’ angst.  I do.  Which is maybe why I can easily sympathize and, when necessary, ignore.

A lot of ignoring is required, but it also needs to be subtle, so they don’t really notice. Because I also remember the shriek of my adolescent soul when I was convinced my emotions were being ignored.

The kids were all for the hike, until we arrived, when my son was struck with stomach pains (me, pre-hike: “Perhaps you should have some protein with those six cinnamon rolls?” Him: “I’m good”) and my daughter saw all the dogs on the trail and realized what a HORRIBLE person I was for not inviting our dog.

The Beginning, when The Teenagers Suddenly Realized Life Sucks.

Our dog, a Chihuahua/Basenji mix, would not have liked the gravel path, cold, or rain, but that was not the point, OMG.

I offered sympathies and apologies, but when they are deep into their angst, I am no longer allowed to touch them.  Or walk with them.

For at least the first mile everyone had their own space.  My son stalked ahead of me, occasionally stopping (when I was in eyesight) to lean over and groan; my daughter lagged behind me, dragging a strip of bark like a sad tail and singing songs about her sad dog alone at home.

I listened to the wind through the trees and the birds in the trees.  There really is no better music. Plus I rewrote the lyrics to Johnny Cash’s “Walk the Line” (which, also, I realize now, has some Guns n Roses in there…OK, so not an original creation….):

I keep a close watch on this child of mine.
I keep my heart wide open all the time.
I love to see that smile hiding in your eyes.
Because you’re my child, I will walk the line.

I find it very, very easy to wait for you.
I find myself alone many days we go through.
Yes, I’ll admit that I’m a fool for you.
Because you’re my sweet child, I will walk the line.

At some point, my daughter decided to join me, mainly so she could whisper smack about her brother’s drama.  I was careful how I pointed out that it takes one to know one.  Soon, my son joined our group, too; he either felt better or decided to suck it up so that he could harrass his sister, who had obviously gone lone enough without being harrassed.

The return trip was full of laughter and cameraderie and friendship, and that didn’t even change when our first choice of restuarant was packed and we had to drive another 15 minutes to get to our second choice (I’d add photos, but WordPress apparently no longer allows vertical perspective photos, or at least I can’t figure out how to rotate them once in this blog).

But home, now, is quiet: we’ve spent enough time together–for a little while, at least.  One is in her room making videos on music.ally, and the other is in the office laughing at what are probably political boards and memes.

And here I am, thankful for the strong memories of my own adolescence, despite the juxtaposed, sharp angled shadows of fear and pain that goes along with them, and later reflection on it, so I can be the main point of balance while my kids walk their own line.