Don't . . . . How To Train A Teenager.

I'll admit it, in my children's formative lives I was one of those lackadaisical, argue with me not, I'm doing it right, type of parents.  The house was always a cross between happy chaos and complete and utter downfall of an organised dream. 

Being brought up properly, as my Mum reminded me often, I therefore tried to completely reject all forms of behavioural tactics my parents had used on me believing they were too harsh and didn't work.  Mayhap the fact I have unbridled respect for my mother and would never have contemplated back chat, actually taking it so far as arguing with her or telling her she was wrong is tantamount (in my brain) to putting my own head on the floor, donning a pair of hob nail boots and giving myself a good kicking.  Strange that I never quite put two and two together, but, that's me!

My children were often told:

DON'T do that

DON'T leave your room in that mess

DON'T leave your dinner

DON'T Answer back

In their latter years I happily learnt one thing.  The only thing my children were actually hearing was:

Do that

Leave your room in that mess

Leave your dinner

Answer back

Which they both did with great aplomb.  By the time of the great war, or, my divorce as it has settled down to be known as; I had decided to change course and set sail in a different direction with my youngest child (eldest having got sick of the whole shebang and left home, managing to bring the rest of herself up very well indeed).

Turns out if you stop trying to control every thought, word and deed of a child and tell them their life is up to them.  Their mistakes are their own.  Whatever they achieve with their qualifications is their path.  Let them know they can basically do what they want outside the home, but have to realise everything has a consequence and they will ultimately have to pay for their actions.  Things take on a very wonderful sheen. 

My daughter does not rebel against me or my new man.  Yes, she is teenager, she argues and gets angry . . that's their job*.   But what is there to defy when you have been given carte blanche to do as you please?  She is flying along in her education.  She doesn't drink or smoke, and, before you think it, no she isn't lying to me about it.  Why would she?  It's not like I am going to give her a hard time about it.  Her life, her rules.  She even told me the other day that a friend asked if she wanted to try a joint she replied "I'll just ask my Mum her opinion" to whit her friend nearly imploded and told her she was a failure of a teenager.

Basically if you see a sign that says "Don't Walk On The Grass" the first thing you want to do is take your shoes off and run round the little sign a' trampling the grass happily as you go.

If you are insane enough to take advice from a mad Yorkshire woman who openly admits she got it completely wrong at first, swapped her life around and got it right and talks about herself in the third person . . .  there you have it!

If you want your teenager to do as they are bid try using words like:

Tidy your room otherwise your ipod/phone [insert loved gadget] will belong to me for a month.

Eat your dinner, or make your own from tomorrow onwards, oh and you can pay for it yourself too.

My ship my rules, don't like them MOVE OUT.

Always remember to do countdowns to 18 ie time of leaving home.  For example at 13 you would say:

"5 years from now you will be out on your own, so learn to do [insert stuff you want them to learn]." 

Doing this on a regular basis will elicit in them a desire to please as they enjoy home comforts, or ensure you are angry person free by the time they are 18.  WIN WIN!

Good luck parents and remember a teenager's parents aren't just for Christmas!

*If you have never owned a teenager or have younger, gentle children; please note that teenagers are hyped to the hilt on war mongering hormones.  They do not use the reasoning part of their brain so well, but the "FUCK YOU" side works perfectly. 

If you do have a sweet young, gentle, well mannered child please refrain from the belief you have dodged a bullet.  My children were sweet, gentle, well mannered little love bundles . . until they hit teenage years.