Date Night

Long, long ago, before I had kids - before I was even married - I was already making notes about how I wanted to parent. Who knows where most of my ideas came from, but some of my ideas were mental notes while others I actually wrote down.

One such written note, which I have transcribed from one tattered piece of paper to another for something north of twenty-five years, was the idea that when a kid turns thirteen the parent/child relationship starts to change. As a parent, I wanted to be *more* involved with my teenager, not less (remember, I didn't have any kids at the time, so of course I knew it all).

Obviously I had no idea what that would look like in reality, but I wasn't sure I liked the notion of being relegated to a wallet or short order cook.  At a time when my kid is really starting to stretch his wings for flight, I wanted a front row seat...not back.  I wanted to be there with wise counsel and experienced insight (which I was certain would magically appear when I got "old") when my teenager was challenged by difficult relationships, frustrating teachers, and all the other annoyances that were sure to present themselves.

Well, it has happened.  My son is now a teenager and I think I found a seat in the front row.  We have instituted a regular mother/son date night.  My daughter isn't so keen on being left behind on these nights, but now she is looking forward - with even great anticipation - to becoming a teenager.

I don't expect any grand revelations from these little dinner duets, but I am hopeful that by establishing this practice now, while teenager-dom is still fresh, we will be ready if and when the real frustrations, dilemmas, irritations, and questions present themselves.  In the meantime, I'll settle for a full conversation with my son, one void of interruptions, where I can just listen to his stories and answer his questions about "back when *I* was young".

 
Date Night #1 - Hoagie's in Essex Junction.