Yesterday saw me navigating through the quagmire of emotions that comes with trying to communicate with teenagers. I had been planning a family holiday - our first as a newly-configured family when my older son threw a spanner in the works - could his girlfriend come along?
I spent a good week hemming and hawing (otherwise known as introspecting and pondering) before I nailed down what was really bothering me about the request. Then came the need to do the C word - communicate. The conversation went well and we settled the matter without much grief, but I was utterly exhausted after.
That's it, it never ends - this wobbling through a new untested parenting challenge with no hand-holds, no guarantee of a good outcome and the seat-of-your-pants parenting kung-fu that you have to come up with.
When they were no bigger than a football, we were bound together by gravity. Nothing came between us. Missing a nursing cue was a major breech in our togetherness, but one that could be patched up quickly . When they scraped a knee, a band-aid and a cuddle were enough to repair. Then came the time when they were made to feel different because of the colour of their skin and hair. What was broken then took something stronger to re-seal and heal. As they grew, more things got broken - hearts, hopes, trust. Each time, I would find myself reaching for anything that would help to mend what had been broken - band-aids, sticky tape, duct tape.
It comes with the territory. As your child grows, the bubble that you put them in when they were born gets stretched and yanked and tears appear. They are forced to feel the hurts of the world and all you can do as a parent is to try to keep patching it up for them. Because their happiness and wellness is paramount to you - you find yourself constantly applying your handy-dandy duct tape of love, communication, compassion and common sense.
Like MacGyver, you learn to wield that duct tape ninja-like to make things as right as they can be again. It's never going to be as it was - duct tape is bulky and the seams show. But I once watched a home improvement programme where the decorator used duct tape to spruce up a bed - duct tape can have its own design beauty.
And so it is with my duct tape parenting. I have patched up the hurts and broken bits with my children as best I can - it isn't all great but it works. I always have my duct tape ready because I don't quite know what will come next. The plumbing (aka our lives) could blow up in the middle of the night but as long as I can will myself to get up and get going, I can duct-tape the hell out of it. And my children and I can reclaim some semblance of our well-being and keep going.
