Parenting Roller Coaster

 On the rare occasions that I ride a roller coaster, my stomach clenches tight and then flies out of my mouth as I go down the steep hills, forcing me to scream it out so I don't spontaneously combust. The past month encompassed a series of metaphorical roller coasters that turned my stomach in knots, but screaming it out did not help - nor did clenching my teeth and holding my breath or swearing that I didn't care and trying to look away.

Parenting can feel like an amusement park ride, sometimes a fun diversion, a source of joy and thrills, and sometimes a source of dread and horror. A good friend asked me for parenting advice this week, because I am older / my kids are older, and I've seen a few things. I passed along one choice tidbit that has served me well: when you are grappling with a tough situation, don't start playing the movie forward, don't envision your child's future life based on their current actions.  "That's good advice," she said, "because the movie in my head right now is rated R."

What to do when your child flouts your wishes at every turn, runs afoul of the curfew police and cares not for their parent's rules, heartfelt conversation, carefully written behavior contract?  I obviously don't know, because none of the prior methods has been effective this summer.  We hope for peace, for general compliance, but every time hope surges and our metaphoric party balloons inflate, something else happens to burst our balloons and send us back to the drawing board.

Yesterday I woke up happy, pleased that our kiddo was on a church mission trip about 90 minutes away, texting good news. The space between us felt restorative and a few days of peace glimmered. Yet only three hours later my phone rang with news of a precipitate stomach bug and the request for me to drive down and pick up my young missionary. No matter that I had hours more of work, that driving close to three hours would blow up my day. I vented to tears of frustration for a few minutes and then did what I had to do. The youngster and I didn't speak for the whole ride home; I didn't trust myself to open my mouth.

Hopefully the amusement-park antics of our offspring will subside soon, hopefully peace is on the horizon, but I can't play even that happy movie forward since I have to deal with what happens today. One day at a time, I keep thinking. To parents everywhere, I feel your anguish and your trials as you strap yourself once again into the roller coaster. Hold on tight and scream if you have to.