Parenting
by Clara Thompson
Updated: Aug. 20, 2023
Originally Published: April 11, 2023
My son and I once shared a common understanding. During his childhood, we bonded over our love for shows like Blues Clues and Bear in the Big Blue House. Our walks were frequently interrupted by his need to greet construction workers, and while I sometimes wished for a break from yet another episode of The Wiggles, those memories now bring a smile to my face.
Time has passed, and my little boy has grown taller than me, with a voice that deepens daily. I find myself gazing at him in a mix of awe and nostalgia, as we’ve drifted apart in our interests. Nowadays, I often struggle to stay engaged as he excitedly discusses online gaming, listing details about Team Fortress II and his extensive virtual inventory. Despite my self-identification as a geek, video games just aren’t my passion.
In my attempts to reconnect, I introduced him to the wonders of Star Trek and Doctor Who, hoping we could debate the merits of different actors portraying The Doctor (the right answer is David Tennant, of course). Accepting that Daleks might not captivate him, I switched gears to dystopian narratives and tried to engage him with The Walking Dead, even immersing myself in the comics beforehand. Yet, he remained more intrigued by YouTube tutorials on Skyrim than the thrill of zombies. Our geek vocabularies clearly diverged.
When he was young, his rendition of “Three Green and Speckled Frogs” showcased his lovely voice. Now, as he navigates the tumultuous waters of adolescence, I thought music might bridge the gap. I believed that blasting Radiohead’s “Creep,” with its themes of teenage angst, might resonate with him. However, my nostalgic sing-along was met with laughter and a plea to never perform in public again. From his perspective, watching his mother belt out a song about unrequited love likely seemed absurd.
Despite our differences in interests, I took comfort in knowing we maintained a good relationship. Our conversations often ventured into TMI territory, as he candidly discussed changes in his body. I felt relieved to have kept the lines of communication open, especially on sensitive topics like sex education. My desire to teach him practical skills, like using a condom or understanding the nuances of consent, remained strong.
Seeking guidance, I spoke with friends whose children had successfully transitioned into adulthood. They advised me that teenagers need their space but often return in their twenties, ready to appreciate their parents’ life lessons. I braced myself for years of varied communication styles, yet a breakthrough occurred during one of his frequent kitchen raids.
While preparing his favorite macaroni and cheese, my son playfully stole a piece of cheese and planted a kiss on my cheek. This moment sparked a conversation about cooking, and I seized the opportunity to encourage him to learn this essential life skill. He recognized that surviving on ramen post-high school wouldn’t be ideal.
Now, he sometimes steps into the role of sous chef, and our time in the kitchen has become a precious opportunity to share stories and laughter. Between discussing the significance of spices and cooking techniques, we’ve rediscovered our connection.
Ultimately, I realized that I didn’t need to manufacture elaborate activities to maintain our bond. I simply had to be present as his mother.
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Summary:
This article reflects on the shift in communication between a mother and her teenage son as he grows up. It captures the struggle to maintain a connection amidst diverging interests and highlights the rediscovery of their bond through cooking together.