Dear Ann Cannon • I just got caught reading my 16-year-old son’s texts. I feel bad about him being mad at me, but not about doing it. Here’s my justification: He doesn’t talk to me anymore, so how else am I going to find out about what’s going on in his life? Any thoughts on how to be a better communicator with teenagers?
— Caught Red-Handed
Dear Red-Handed • I’ll never forget the time Teenage Me caught my dad snooping through my diary. There had been an epic blowup that day, and even then I understood he was only trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. But. I. Was. Livid. I had never felt more betrayed. Didn’t my dad know that my diaries were none of his beeswax?! I vowed to myself on the spot that I would never violate the privacy of my future children. Ever.
Then I had five teenagers. Which led me to believe that any parent who doesn’t snoop is an idiot. Also, in retrospect, I feel bad for my dad the stoic, who had to wade through pages of drama, drama, drama. Hey, Dad! Sorry about that!
Meanwhile, your question remains. How does a parent better communicate with a teenager? There are a variety of answers here, and I welcome suggestions from readers. But first I’d like to throw out this observation. It’s easy to forget in our world of instant and constant connection that the true business of adolescence is to separate, to become independent from parents, to leave the nest. I suspect this is the driving force behind your son’s silence. He’s creating space for himself to figure out who he is. This necessary reality may feel confusing, even hurtful to you. But it isn’t personal.
Still, it’s important to know what’s going on in your teenager’s life — now more than ever. The threats posed by the internet to our children’s mental health and physical safety can be very real. So what can you do? Here are a few ideas in addition to snooping.
1. Lurk on the fringes. Adults turn invisible when kids get together. Why? Because we’re so monumentally uninteresting to them. Use this to your advantage. Listen to what kids say when they’re hanging out in your vicinity, although keep in mind that some of it may only be half true.
2. Listen to other parents. Parents talk about kids — their own and other people’s kids, too. Pay attention to what they say, although keep mind that some of it may only be half true.
3. Spend time in a car together. Cars used to be awesome places for conversations because what else were you going to do besides talk? Electronic devices can get in the way of that now, but still. The opportunity for talking still exists there.
4. Hike Timp together. OK. Kidding. My husband did this with some of our boys, but you don’t have to. Instead, find an activity that gives you one-on-one time with your son. Don’t force a conversation. Just wait to see what happens.
These suggestions may not help you be a “better communicator” per se. But they will help you know what’s going on in your young son’s life.
Dear Ann Cannon • I recently married the love of my life. It’s a second marriage for both of us. We each have three grown children, so, together we have six kids (plus spouses). All are 25-35 years old, aka child-bearing age. We gained two new grandchildren last year and are expecting three more within the next eight months. I’m from a culture of big families, yet this thing has exploded at a rate I’m not sure I can handle. I want to be a mom and nana to everyone, but I struggle to keep up. I thought I was done with mom guilt. Apparently not. Any words of wisdom?
— Nana Needs a Nap
Dear Nana • After reading this, I need a nap, too! OK. Why not tell your family what you’ve just told me? Ask for their patience and then be patient with yourself, as well. Meanwhile, opt for simplicity whenever possible. My paternal grandmother had 14 children and a boatload of grandkids. For our birthdays she sent us cards (which she probably wrote out in advance) with a dollar bill tucked inside. While I’m sure this was still a herculean effort for her, it was easier than giving us all ponies.
And guess what. I still cherish the memory of those pretty little cards.
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