An Italian-American living la dolce vita in the Deep South

An Italian-American living la dolce vita in the Deep South

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Do You Speak Caveman?

Oh the joys of what it means to have a teenager in the house.

Okay. That was totally sarcastic.

But really, how have we raised a caveman? Lately our son doesn’t talk, he grunts; he answers questions with one word; he slouches. Really, all he needs is a bone through his nose.

Then there is the fact that he is also grumpy. He is a grumpy caveman.

AND he is so moody. He is a moody, grumpy caveman.

I am getting whiplash from trying to keep up with his moods. Is that a happy face? Grumpy face? I’m not really sure … they all look the same.



Part of the problem is the stress of this first week of school: classes, homework, football, and his stint as a writer for the Teen Board on the Augusta Chronicle all started THIS WEEK. Going from the nothingness of summer to a full schedule is not fun, so we are trying to be understanding and supportive.

But Geez Louise.

Anyway, I know my limitations, so today I searched for advice from several Catholic Parenting Web sites.

Yes, I am perfectly willing to admit when I need help.

One site had an entire section on teens, and one point that was emphasized was that the responsibility for developing a healthy parent-child relationship rests primarily with the parent; that (like it or not) it's really up to us to keep the peace and maintain open lines of communication.

Okay, I get that. We’re the adults, we’re mature, we know how to take the higher road. In other words, we are bigger than they are.

Then there were Biblical references concerning the "rod" of discipline (Prov. 13:24; 23: 13-14). In Biblical times the rod was the staff used by shepherds, not as punishment, but as a way to corral and guide wayward sheep.

What a beautiful image. That’s exactly what my husband and I are trying to do as parents … guide our son in the ways of the world.

Unfortunately, as I was letting this beautiful image run through my mind, I happened to glance at my watch. The time in which my son was supposed to call home to check in came … and went. No phone call whatsoever.

Truthfully, in that very moment, I just wanted to take that rod and whack my son over the head with it.

Now who’s the caveman?

Ugh.

6 comments:

Ellen Stewart (aka Ellie/El/e) said...

Never had a caveman, but now I have a low talker. I even went to have my hearing tested, it's not me, it's him!

Cheryl Lage said...

You are hysterical, Bia! I've always loved that visual of the corrective, corralling rod...and understand the whack-a-mole temptation as well!

Hang in there!

PAOLA said...

Io non commento. I miei figli sono "già adulti" e quindi dovrei aver superato la fase critica, invece ..................................................................

Tiziana said...

A casa mia c'è un quasi sessantenne che si comporta esattamente come un perfetto cavernicolo. Anche a lui manca solo l'anello nel naso e l'abitudine di trascinarmi per i capelli. Anche lui spesso preferisce grugnire che rispondere e non parliamo poi del momento di mangiare....non commento.
Ma l'età dell'adolescenza non finisce mai?
Adesso ti saluto perchè il cavernicolo ha grugnito....emh! mi ha chiamato e devo andare a vedere quello che vuole prima che prenda la clava.
Ho esagerato un po', povero maritino, e spero non legga il mio commento.
Ciao!!!

GrandmaK said...

I always blamed PMS on my girl's behavior...never had a name for the boys!!! Caveman is a good idea!!! Cathy

E said...

Here's what worked for me...take him out on a country road and begin teaching him to drive. Nevermind that he isn't old enough for a permit. Make the driving thing last for a couple of years. He will love it and if you are far away and on empty roads he will talk to you.
Then both of you will remember the time forever....

And when all else fails remember that it will pass. It is truly a stage. It comes and it goes and then eventually one day you will realize it is completely gone and a young man is there instead holding open the door for you and jabbering away about the new job, the new girl...all of it.
I promise