by Carol Nissenbaum

Created on: November 20, 2008

Go out and buy the highest stiletto heels you can find, say, 6 inches or so. Strap them on, find a tightrope, and start walking - you have a better chance of staying balanced for five minutes than striking a balance between your teen's privacy and parenting!

OK, maybe I'm being (a drop) dramatic. But, as the exasperated mother of two teenagers, let me tell you that every day is a struggle not to cross the line. Teenagers are a species unto themselves. It's hard to believe that these are the same people who, it seems like ten minutes ago, were the adorable sweet babies we once had. That's part of the problem: when our kids are babies in infant carriers, WE dictate where and when they go, who they see, when they eat and sleep. I remember (foolishly) complaining back in the day of their infancy that I wished they were older so they could tell me if something hurt or if they needed something - HA! Be careful what you wish for, etc. As someone very wise has said about parenthood: the days are long but the years are short.

Yes, they are. But fear not, because the teenage years are EXCRUCIATINGLY long! Sometimes I don't know how we're gonna survive. Being the parent of a teenager comes with a completely new set of rules. Unfortunately these rules are not printed in a book, online, or accessible anywhere - they evolve daily and are ever-changing. Apparently teens can say anything whenever they want to us, but we have to walk on eggshells not to hurt their delicate personas. It is a Herculean task to communicate effectively with your teenager without being nosy, intrusive, or insensitive.

We've all had days when we ask our teens, "How was your day?" and receive typical answers like "Fine," "OK," "Grunt," "Burp," etc. I have found that when I receive an answer of this type, which is most of the time, my child is most likely in a mood (duh!) and it is best not to question him or her further. I have also found that if something is bothering them or on their mind, THEY will come to ME and start talking freely, in fact often talking so fast I can barely figure out what they're saying (not to mention that every other word is "like"). When they want to talk to me, I try to put down whatever it is I am doing and just listen. Sometimes my daughter's stories are so inane and pointless I want to hang myself, but then I remind myself that when I was 14 my mother would never listen to me, nor would she even pretend, and that hurt. So, I try and listen. The cardinal rule: DO NOT ASK

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