by ELIZABETH TUCKEY
This week I became the mother of a teenager.
As certain as death and taxes, when someone finds out you have a teenager (or soon to be) you will be bombarded with comments like “wait for the trouble to start” or “poor you” or “don’t expect anything but grunts for the next five years”. By all accounts when a 12-year old hits the magic 13, all hell breaks loose.
Now I’m only a few days into being a mother of a teenager as I write this, but when my daughter emerged from her bedroom this morning she hadn’t grown a set of horns. She gave me her usual huge hug and kiss good morning. Mind you, her hair did seem a bit more unruly than normal, so perhaps the change has begun.
Being a parent is by far the most difficult thing I have ever done. Don’t get me wrong. I am lucky to have three amazing kids (daughter 13, son 10 and daughter 6 going on 27) who cause me no heartburn, they love school, do their chores without complaint and eat their vegetables . But how a child behaves, in my mind, is the least of my concerns. My philosophy has always been that if they see positive behaviour around them, then that’s what becomes the “norm” for them.
The thing that literally keeps me awake at night is worrying whether my kids are going to be OK. Working at the National Youth Mental Health Foundation headspace for the last nearly three years has been both a blessing and a curse.
A blessing because I know what’s available to young people who need help and my awareness about youth mental health has increased tenfold. I feel far more equipped to face the challenges my kids will go through than ever before.