There is a teenager in my house. He is taller than I am, and seemingly his own person. When I asked him to walk the dog the other morning before school, he actually said “No.”
Holy s—. The boy said “No.”
I stood there aghast. No? A child isn’t supposed to say no to his parents.
I immediately grabbed the phone out of his hands and pocketed it angrily.
“I’m taking your phone, until further notice!” I said.
He shrugged.
“I don’t care,” he said. “I’m tired, and I’m not walking the dog this early, I’m not going out.”
Wait. He didn’t care? What ammunition did I have?
“No friends over after school, no doing anything,” I said. “You need to come straight home!”
“Mom…”
He talked to my back as I walked out of his room. I was angry, but as much at myself as at him. Shouldn’t I know how to communicate better with my son so we weren’t in this predicament? How exactly had I put myself in this stupid I’m-going-to-take-things-away-to-make-you-do-things jam that I always promised myself I would avoid? Was it so important that he walk the dog? Or was it just the principle of the thing?
As I stormed about the kitchen, I thought of all those warnings from parents of kids older than mine, all those scary stories of the teenage years. I always thought if I hugged and loved my child, we would be close, and then we could just easily get along. I thought I would find a way to avoid fights and discord.
One way to avoid discord was to do everything myself. If you didn’t ask anything of your kids, if you just let them hang with their friends, do as they pleased, then it would be smooth sailing. Except I didn’t bargain for the anger and resentment that builds as one does all the chores while children old enough to help sit idle, without noticing.
“You could have walked the dog earlier,” he said.
And in fact it was true. I get up super early most days and there were hours of dark in which I could have taken the dog before my early appointment. But I had work to do, dishes to put away, straightening … wait. Did I have to give excuses why I asked him to do the job instead of doing it myself? Did I really have to justify asking this one simple thing?
My husband took out the dog as I angrily made breakfast. Should I even make my usual smoothie? Offer an egg sandwich? Why should I do anything for him when he wouldn’t do something for me?
Tit for tat, even steven, an eye for an eye — all the phrases entered my mind. It was so cliché, but yet how else to explain to a young person that goodwill is built on everyone pitching in and doing their part in a household?
That was the conversation that came later, after school, when he came home as asked. I’d given him back his phone. “What if something happens and I need to call you?” he’d said, smartly — but for once he didn’t reach out to ask if someone or many someones could come over or if he could go somewhere.
“You said to come home,” he said. The words sounded beautiful to my ears. You said, so I’m doing it. Thank god. Defiance wasn’t completely the new norm.
“I appreciate it,” I said. “I really don’t like arguing, and I know I sprung it on you this morning about walking the dog, but I really need you to be able to do some things, even when you don’t want to.”
He nodded. We agreed that some advance notice, like asking the night before for some help the next morning, might be a good solution, and I told him that I loved him. I kissed him too, not even having to stoop at all to do so.
Scary.
The next morning, we ran out of milk, or so I thought.
“Could you maybe go to the deli, and get some milk?” I asked, hesitantly.
He didn’t skip a beat, didn’t complain he was tired, or roll his eyes.
“Sure,” he said. “Can I also get some eggs so you can make me more than one?”
“Sure,” I said. “That’s great.”
I smiled as he got up from the stool to put on his shoes. Phew. Crisis averted.
We could still bargain with one another, which is, after all, what every good relationship requires.
