Thank you from the bottom of our hearts...

Today, Sunday, finds Saz lying in an interesting state on a red velvet chaise longue in 'another room', lined with black and cream flock wallpaper... She looks as lovely as she always does, if a little flushed.

Fhina meanwhile, has been breathing into a paperbag for about an hour, pale and sweating like a spring piglet...

No, our Teen Terrorists haven't finally got the better of us. Yes, we'll be fine!

It's just that - Thanks to all of you lovely bloggers and bloggeristas and your tales of torment to match those of the Brothers Grimm (and Enid Blyton - To be fair, your kids are wonderful reading between the beautifully wrought lines!)... this blog has been mentioned in the hallowed (whisper it!) pages of the Sunday Times...

Whooo-hoooo!

Can you Adam and Eve it?

The article, written by 'an undercover male journalist', but mentioning Justine Roberts of Mumsnet, no less is HERE and Mad Manic Mamas (dads too!) is cited as a top 'Mummy Blog'.

...'Our rock and compass', Saz, and I began this blog because we felt a little left out by the soi-disant Mommy Bloggers... Those who were still changing diapers and nappies, who were juggling tots and tinies... Ahhhhhhhh, bless their little cotton socks!

We had golden memoirs of those days, I can tell you, rocking cribs, burping up wind, and dispensing Calpol by the bucketful, while today we are more likely to be found wrestling like skinnier sumos with our Teen Terrorists - Tormentors and Tormentresses, all...

(We love them dearly, seriously!)

So thank you... From the bottom of our hearts. ...For allowing us to wibble and witter on here, and giving us a space to feel safe from ridicule in. For accepting us, witch's warts and all, Teen-style tantrums, rants and everything else that we happen to be going through.

And for those of you who write like demons to keep the pages alive and throbbing with delight and passion... More than incredible Expat Mum and Auntie Gwen, wise Scriptor Senex, aka John, and fabulous vegemitevix, Super Sink, Sallymandy and Suburbia, clever-clogs Family Affairs and Jo...

Oh, and our feisty fledglings - Brighton Mum Teenage Angst and Trisha...

Your love for your children speaks of all the volumes we should ever wish to read, and we get a lot of comfort from knowing that, Saz and I, well, we're not alone.

...And to our commenters and occasional (usually teen) Tormentors (!)

Merci mille and big hugs from both of us,


and

Understanding the Brain

...of teenagers.

There are truly moments when I think that I am living with crazy people.

Well, surprise, surprise - I am.

I heard a report on recent research on a radio program something that I should have already known:

The frontal cortex of the brain is not completely developed until a person is in her mid-twenties.

Ahhh, what an affirmation!

It seems that some very smart scientists have determined through their form of research that teenagers have not fully developed the part of the brain which:

Manages executive functioning and cognitive processing. Keeping organized in thought and in stuff is just plain difficult for them. This explains the number of posts about messy rooms.

Interprets emotions in facial expression! Ah, ha! They can’t tell when I am really disappointed? I DO need to actually say these things out loud.

Manages impulse control! Scientists need a NIMH study to figure this out? And we put these kids behind the wheels of cars?

Now, you may know a couple of theories of mine that has not yet been tested by a scientific study – perhaps I should apply for a grant for research that is also called my everyday life. The following could be considered to be corollaries:

Any teenager is smarter when he is in the household kitchen. All 5 of my current teenagers understand me completely when I am talking to them in the kitchen. Black and White is clear and non-negotiable. Their mother actually makes some sense to them. But as they move further and further out of the kitchen, down the street, off at school, or at a gathering of friends, you know as well as I do, their decision making skills are not quite as sharp.

A single teenager is smarter than a group of them. Yes. There actually seems to be more functioning grey matter in one teenager than there is in a whole group of them getting together. They seem less able to use what they do have in the frontal cortex; reasoning and decision making is more impulsive, less rational. Yup. Can anyone else corroborate these findings?

Being a little crazy helps kids to negotiate the unreal time of life they are experiencing. Don't you think so? Would you want to be 15 years old again?

Teenagers craziness is contagious to mid-lifers in their presence. Have you wondered why certain things came out of your mouth? Why you are acting the way you are? Have you felt a need to see an exorcist to get your own mother out of the words that are coming out of your mouth? I don't think it is completely our fault when we act a little "crazy". It's part of the tense, tizzy time with teens.

It makes perfect sense that they seem a little whack-nuts – they are. There brain is not finished growing.

So I am not the insane one…. At least on a good day.

Sink

Just Keep Swimming, Swimming, Swimming

It's been about four months since we found out that we had to dealing with a teenager using drugs. (Yes, yes, I know it was "only" pot. But we were non-negotiable about this - zero tolerance.)

I thought I'd let you all know how it is going....

Drain (my husband has decided that if I am Sink, he is Drain. His job - he says - is to make sure I don't get too full of myself. Nice.) and I stuck to our original plan. We followed through in every step.

You may remember that I cried when we cut off his curls. His curls started to grow back, and I was thrilled. But he asked me to take him to cut his hair again. He has decided that he likes it short. He has also started wearing his glasses all the time - has found he likes to be able to see after all.

He is still seeing the therapist, although the counselor, right from the start was not concerned about his drug use. The time with the therapist has been a Godsend as we negotiate that stressful last year at home before leaving the nest to go to college. I wish we had done this with the older three! #4 and I talk so much more about the difficulties of transitions in relationships as this year progresses.

We have let him attend some social events - moving very slowing. First we drove him to an event at school and picked him up immediately following, slowly transitioning to last week when we let him go to a friend's house, where I walked him inside and talked to the parents to be certain that they would be home the entire evening.

And, finally, yes, he continues to pass the random drug tests we give him. Sounds a little harsh, I suppose, to some -- infringing on personal rights and all such stuff -- but Drain, and I don't care about that. As liberal as we are politically, we feel pretty secure that this is worth it. He is keeping his nose clean. Former President Reagan's "Trust, but Verify" holds a whole new kind of place in our family.

And the college acceptances have started to come in, complete with considerable scholarship money, because he is a smart kid. He's waiting still, to hear from his first and second choices, but at any rate, he knows that 4 schools want him already.

So, we are still swimming. We are not complacent, can't quite breathe yet, but that's okay. We're beginning to see the sunlight and starting to feel hopeful again. And we give #4 a great deal of the credit. He has made a good choice, this time. We will continue to keep him attached, while letting out the elastic slowly, to keep him on a steady path...a path he chooses, and a steady path.

Just a few words....

...as my blog seems to have died on me and l can't find a way to resurrect it for now, I hoped that you would indulge me to say a few words regarding my current 'absence' from FFF and MMM. Below is the post I wrote last week for my Fab, feisty and fifty blog and as so many people have asked after me, l felt I owed you guys an explanation, if only a brief one for now.

Last weekend my husband asked for a separation. Our 18 yr old daughter has decided to remain with him in the family home. I am not comfortable talking about it in detail right now. My blogs are not a secret, so I don't feel able to vent my heart out here. Suffice it to say Larry and I are separating and so are the children geographically, if less than a mile apart. This is excruciatingly painful. I am not happy with this outcome, but there it is. 35 years together is a long time.

I do not know how this will pan out, I will just roll with it. We now have to legally separate and I have to find a suitable home for my son and I. We hope the children will come and go freely between them both.

I am trying to be brave and formidable instead of the weak, weepy and needy mush that lay inside me. My hope is that the children come through this whole and that we can steer them through their forthcoming exams with our support and love.

I just have to remember to breathe.

Sunday Times mention

Did anyone see we were mentioned, nay honoured as a top mum blog in the Sunday Times????

Here it is:

http://women.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/women/families/article7030689.ece

Seventeen Years Ago

About five in the morning I decided it was time. I phoned my mother (six hours ahead in England) and heard her gently crying as I told her the pains were getting stronger and we would phone her from the hospital when we "had news". I remember saying "It's not so bad", which made her cry a bit more, given that she knew what I was in for.

The baby was ten days overdue and an induction was booked for the next day. I was glad not to have to go through that as I'd heard not-so-good things about being induced. (Not true, as I learned next time round.) So off to the hospital we trotted, I was wired up to a fetal monitor and everything looked great. The baby's heartbeat was low and steady, making everyone tell me it was a boy (even though I knew better in my head). I took a long time to dilate and kept stopping in between. At about 4pm I was finally ready to push. Two hours later we were starting to think about Plan B. Apparently the baby was "sunny side up" meaning that she was facing out and her neck was craning backwards to try to get out. That, plus a pelvis that hadn't been given the manual on how to expand a bit, meant that the babe was well and truly stuck. I heard mention of a c-section and begged my doctor to let me keep trying, but I think I already knew that was hopeless.

The c-section was a fairly relaxed affair for the baby, (compared to the one I had ten years later) and a huge warrior-princess came out about 45 minutes later, a shock of jet black hair sticking straight up like a Mohican. Unfortunately, my uterus was bleeding profusely now so there was lots of "irrigation", general shifting around of organs, and a blood trnafusion was at the ready. My main memory of the whole thing was shaking uncontrollably, and my head banging on the table. (You should have seen the black eyes I had the next day.) I stayed in recovery for five hours and then they wheeled me back to my room for what became the worst night of my life. The only "drink" I was allowed was a sponge on a stick with mouth wash. Mouthwash!!! Eventually one of the nurses took pity on my dry mouth and allowed me to rinse with water as long as I spat it out.

I was on heavy duty pain-killers at the time and was supposed to ring when I could feel them wearing off. It was at this time that we learned I have the constitution of an elephant when it comes to pain relief. It was wearing off at about twice the rate of a normal human, and my body went into full convulsions just to prove to the nurses that I wasn't faking.

My insurance coverage allowed me an extra day because of the c-section, although even then none of my docs thought I was ready to be discharged. (A whopping three nights woo-hoo.)

Anyhoo, she's 17 today. Where did the time go? She was a high maintenance baby, but I am guessing that was because I was making up the rules as I went along. She's been a very low maintenance child and teen - have I just jinxed things? I am so proud to have a tall, willowy, happy girl, but more because of the way she's met her dyslexia head on, achieves A grades despite the odds and refuses to let it stand in her way.

You go girl! (But not just yet!)

Expat Mum

Tears Before Bedtime...

My man-child turned 18 last week. I know I've already mentioned it here, there, and bloody well everywhere!

But I wasn't prepared for the really peculiar (albeit short-lived - Fhina finally got a grip of herself) feelings of loss. And grieving...

I know grief. I've been there, done that, got the T-shirt, and the (tear-) stains!

I think I was, for a few hours, mourning the loss of The Boy. The child within this man who towers gloweringly over me. ...The little imp, chortling away in his little baby walker on wheels, while wringing my chintzy curtains orange through his baked bean-y paws... (I cried when we left those curtains behind when we sold the house... Such memories.)

...And as much as he's riven me inside out with frustration as he can wind me up so easily, I shall probably continue to miss my little boy...

While loving the man he's becoming, for sure...