Wordle

I am obsessed with Wordle, It has been around for a whole year, and I am just now jumping on the party train; how did I miss this? Six chances to guess the day’s secret five-letter word, twenty-six tiles, challenging but not impossible. 

Full disclosure: it took me forty-five minutes to solve my first puzzle; I know, embarrassing! My sister stood over me, mumbling friendly insults, ‘Thanks for showing me what overthinking looks like, Mic.” Right, I hear ya, my ridiculous attempt to control the outcome; there must be a trick to this. I became paralyzed; what if I chose the wrong letter or guessed the wrong word? Voices in the background chime in, ‘are you still working on it? Yes, people, what if I run out of chances? I need to think; I can’t lose. 

My kid, aka Thing 2, words linger, ‘Mom, it is not that deep.’ In my last guess, I finally arrived at the answer–DODGE; the double letter stumped me. Nonetheless, why do you suppose seeing things right before us is so hard? The harder I tried, the more challenging it became to solve; the answer was always in plain sight.  

Wordle seems to be the running theme in my life these days, and exactly how I feel about parenting. I keep having small panic attacks as I struggle to grasp parenting teenagers. It is defeating; there are days I feel like I am on my sixth attempt, my last try. The pressure: don’t mess this up, girl; figure it out; your kid’s future depends on it. 

It helps to take a step back and remind myself that all my parenting tiles exist; they are all in front of me. Sure, every day is a new puzzle to solve; teenagers are not accessible. Be calm; you got this. What tiles do I need today? Patience, boundaries, a sense of humor, empathy, or more love—perhaps all of the above. 

Euphoria

Do you know what else I am obsessed with? Euphoria, the HBO show that follows the lives of troubled teenagers. At the epicenter is a young girl battling mental illness and drug addiction. It took me a hot minute to fully appreciate Euphoria’s meaningful and complicated layers. Honestly, the first episode sent me reeling, stunned by the intensity of the content. Seriously, I was busy icing my jaw from all the drops to the floor, WTF? It is a lot to absorb. Is this for reals? 

The show is narrated from a teenager’s perspective. It is an avalanche from the onset: substance abuse, bullying, peer pressure, depression, alcohol, body shaming, sexual orientation, parties, anger, and aggressive sexual behavior. Have I mentioned the excessive amount of male sex organ shots–like a ridiculous amount of penises! And that’s just the first episode. There is more; the show’s adults are equally broken and firing on all cylinders, dealing drugs, pornography, alcoholism, and violence. 

Is this meant to be an accurate depiction of high school life or shock and awe for TV ratings? Either way, the show succeeds, mission accomplished, checks all the boxes, panic attacks commence, breathe, mama.

The show evokes a mixed bag of emotions. On the one hand, I am astonished that this is how sixteen-year-olds are portrayed; equally upsetting is how popular the show is with young people. Is this the content they resonate with? This begs the question, WHY are teenagers connecting with this show? Is this their truth? 

On the other hand, I am grateful for the reality check, as difficult as it is to digest the subject matter. All the episodes incite the same emotion of being slammed by a giant wave, knocked off my feet, and dragged to the shallow end. Getting back on my feet, shaking and wobbly, wiping the sand from my face, my eyes sting from the truth serum the show produces. I am glad, though, if this is even fifty percent accurate, I know this much; I need to level up the dialogue with my boys.  

A nod to the writers, the show is beautifully crafted. It weaves a complicated web of deeply flawed characters entangled by the complexities of life, at the root, loss, pain, and a desperate need to belong, propagating harmful tactics to escape and survive. Many scenes are difficult to watch and hit close to home; in the end, I find myself rooting for all the characters to heal.

Teenagers

Raising teenagers is HARD …. like really, really hard. 

I don’t know if you can relate, but there are moments when I don’t like my boys. I love them always, yet there are moments when I need to walk away and regroup. Oh, child of mine, this is not your best performance. Entitlement, selfishness, disrespect, mood swings, yes, mama will need a minute. 

Parenting at any phase is challenging; all stages present frustration, yet I always felt the universe gave me time to transition and adjust. Not with teenagers; they went to bed as sweet boys and woke up hairy and scary. Shit got real fast; one minute, they were riding their bikes in the neighborhood, then next, they were driving off, loud music and getting into all sorts of shenanigans. 

Don’t drink and drive, don’t smoke anything from a stranger, you are an ‘adult,’ you can get thrown in jail, no one calls me a grandma in nine months, I know how many beers I have in the garage fridge! I speak these words and many more; they come out of my mouth, and my boys don’t flinch. Granted, they are used to my ramblings; I don’t mince words, yet my fears resonate with them.

Thing 1, nineteen, and Thing 2, seventeen, are doing, living, experimenting. Falling in love, making mistakes, learning difficult lessons, and crossing lines they later regret. Burying my head in the sand and saying ‘not my kid’ is not how I parent…drugs, alcohol, sex, lies, anxiety, mental stress, relationships, and pressure are all real. 

All teenagers want to act like adults, but they can’t handle adulting or afford it. And therein lies the disconnect recently; my boys simultaneously had massive meltdowns. One over a relationship, and the other decided to get wasted and sloppy while on a family vacay. 

The struggle is real. My initial reaction is not pretty and compliments the internal dialogue in my head. Seriously, boys? I immediately internalize well. There goes my Mother of the Year nomination; I didn’t even get past the first quarter of 2022. Argh! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!

Reflect

I compose myself, take a deep yoga breath, and shelf my embarrassment and disappointment; they don’t serve me. Instead, I self-reflect. Am I enabling? What role am I playing? How can I do better and be better? I understand that I hold a lot of power. I am an influencer in their lives; As much as I want to lose my shit, I take the opportunity to show them what adulting looks like. More importantly, I say THANK YOU! 

Thank you to the universe that I GET to parent, that I GET to guide them. My babies are not done growing; they still need me to parent. Thank you for these big teachable moments. The meltdowns, the sloppiness, the failures, and the insecurities need to happen. Thank you for the opportunity to show them the difference between reacting and responding, knowing that how I RESPOND to their failures and successes matters.

Crossing MY Fingers

Parenting is like Wordle; a daily reset happens. I can’t parent like I did last year or even last month. Things are moving too quickly, the stakes are high, and I need to evolve and allow space for their truths to reveal themselves. I have loosened my grip; they will make choices, some I won’t care for, I can’t control this. But I also feel like not talking about or ignoring the hard stuff is never the answer. So I will not allow myself to parent from a place of perfection, shame, guilt, or fear.  

Lord knows I don’t have all the answers. Gosh, I don’t even know if I am doing any of this right. All of it scares me. I pray that my love is enough, yet I know it is not. 

But this I know: all the tiles are within my reach; my core values(tiles) honesty, communication, patience, support, respect, clap-outs, boundaries, haven, discipline, and kindness all remain. I am learning to adjust daily based on emotional needs; I rely on some tiles more than others; love always remains.

Here’s to the privilege of ‘getting’ to parent.

Xo-Mic