Two dozen tips I wish I had heard when my kids were teens

[image of teen from Internet]

I have always loved my kids, but we had some rough-going when they were teens. At times, I fantasized about having an ex-husband I could send them to. Once I called every older parent I knew to ask for advice. My dad’s best friend, who had five grown children, said, “Every kid gets into some kind of trouble, but in different ways.” There was some cold comfort there.

Last night I was at a party and sat with two friends, each of whom is the father of a 15-year-old. One is the dad of a girl; the other is the dad of a boy. The pain on their faces was palpable when they talked about their children.

I’ve buried the parent-of-teen pain for so long that I had to reach back pretty far to recall it. But I found it. "I remember how it hurt," I said to my friends, "to feel that they don't love you."

"And to feel that they don't respect you," one of the fathers added.

Here’s what I wish someone had told me when I was suffering (stuff I picked up from wise people - ideas that helped me keep my sanity and some family harmony).

Neil Young and a Friend who Left

My friend Sharon Roznik wrote this, posted By Blogger to RustnevrSleeps at 7/20/2012 10:05:00 PM


"No More" by Neil Young, live acoustic
concert filmed in Jones Beach, New York
Sept, 5, 1989, from the album "Freedom."

It must be the return of a long-lost friend that has me turning to Neil Young (AGAIN).

How to tell if you’re a nature nut

In 2009, my husband and I were fortunate to purchase a seasonal house trailer on Little Green Lake in Markesan, Wisconsin. We try to spend every weekend there during the warm months. The trip between the trailer and our home in Menomonee Falls takes an hour and a half.

The high point of every commute is driving on a highway right through the mighty Horicon marsh. While traveling through the marsh, we watch for egrets, herons and geese. The occasional white pelican is a treat.

I’m sure glad I had my eyes open last Sunday. Five sandhill cranes were walking leisurely along the shoulder of the road. La la la, so casual. Long spindly legs like an anorexic basketball player’s. Elegant necks, nosy beaks.

My eyes immediately started to burn from unexpected tears. Too much beauty to bear.

Family Reunion Bingo

We had a reunion for my mother’s family last weekend - an all-weekend camp for some, a Saturday picnic for most. Either way, it was great, in spite of the 90-degree weather, or maybe because of it because we had so much fun attacking each other with water balloons and squirt guns.

Forty-four people represented three generations. We enjoyed tons of awesome homemade potluck food including an incredibly moist banana birthday cake, a fish pond and piñata for the kids, and lots of relaxation under giant trees at Soldiers and Sailors Park in Markesan,Wisconsin on the shore of Little Green Lake.

I love to see my family. After a reunion, I always feel like I didn’t talk enough to folks. Last year, my cousin suggested including a mixer game, so I created a family bingo “card” modeled on an ice breaker I remembered enjoying at a party long ago.

I wrote some generic clues (i.e. “Do you love the color red?” “Are you wearing colorful undies?” “Can you roll your tongue?”) and loaded the game with as many fun facts as I could think up about the rellies who had said they were coming to the gathering.

For instance, I knew my Uncle Jerry was turning 84 on the day of the picnic. There was a clue. I knew my niece Danielle was born and raised in Florida. There was another one. Lots of us like to dance, go fishing, and ride motorcycles. Quite a few served in the armed forces. And um, many Hoerigs have a last name starting with “H.” I figured everyone “fit” at least one clue.

I bought some little golf pencils and printed the game on 8 ½ x 11 inch index stock. Here’s how the cards looked:

A Fruit Basket Upset of Summer Videos & Movies

Oldies

 My name is Gail & I’m a movie addict. I’ll watch just about anything; my recently-viewed videos have included “Charade” with Audrey Hepburn & Cary Grant; “Zombieland” (on the recommendation of my 15-year-old nephew); and “The Cherry Orchard” with Charlotte Rampling and Alan Bates.

Quickie reviews of those three:

Be Here Now

So. I was walking along the lake, smelling the lake, and looking at the tunnel the trees made over the road, and I was perfectly happy.

It was a “Be here now” moment.

Recently I was with someone who pulled out her phone and started fiddling with it. I looked her in the eye and said, “Be here now.”

She didn’t know what I was talking about.

Phenology: Of cow parsnips and lightning bugs

My friend Arleen and I like to notice the comings and goings of wild plants and animals. For years I kept a journal of first appearances of welcome spring friends like trout lilies, Virginia waterleaf, and redwing blackbirds.

Some nice Web images of trout lilies. We have the white variety in our woods.

That journal is gathering dust, but I still watch.

It seems that every year is different, judging by which plants thrive in the wild world. One year the climate will favor mullein, say, or bergamot, and we’ll have a bumper crop of those plants. (When bergamot thrives, it’s extra fun because I can say “Look at all the bergamot! And look over there, there’s some oswego tea! Oh, hey – look at all the bee balm! Check out that monarda! That’s a nice crop of horsemint over there.” …And it’s all the same stuff.)

A nice picture of monarda (bergamot, oswego tea, bee balm, horsemint) from the Web.

This year, most plants are coming and going early compared to other years. For instance, I’ve been noshing on wild black and red raspberries during my morning walks, but their season is almost done and it’s only June 29. Typically, we Wisconsinites think of July as berry season. (As I eat the berries, I remember my dad who used to delight in saying “Blackberries are red when they’re green.” Then he’d laugh till he wheezed.)

This year is a wow year for cow parsnip. It’s always a tall plant, but today I beheld a ten-foot behemoth beside the old railroad right-of-way where I walk. I stood in silence and stared.

This photo from the Web gives you an idea of how BIG cow parsnip can get.

Different years can also be hard on certain species. In this year’s dry June, I’ve only seen a couple of lightning bugs. I always knew when it was my son Brian’s birthday, June 28, when I could go outside of an evening and walk through hundreds of the tiny flying lanterns. This year I could have missed Brian’s birthday if I were depending on fireflies to announce it. (Mosquitoes are also rare in this dry heat. Those pore thangs, boo hoo.)

I used to think the noting of wildlife progression was called “phenomenology.” Only recently have I discovered that my watching of nature is known as “phenology.” (Dang, I hate being wrong about a word!) Phenomenology is something else that’s a lot more philosophical. But I still prefer that word with its extra syllable – it’s as fun to say as bananarama or lollapalooza.

One thing is for sure: there’s a lollapalooza of nature out there to behold.