Last Friday morning, while waiting to "close the deal" with an O.C. non-profit (that really does some wonderful work from gang prevention to sheltering homeless teens), I found myself flipping through a parenting guide. It was several pages with colorful cartoons and lots of really helpful information for parents of little people. It was brilliant! I had forgotten all the hidden dangers and possible death traps. With the turn of each page, I mentally checked off each tip. I had always checked the water temperature before putting the baby in the bathtub and only once or twice let a screaming boy out of the car seat while the car was moving. I realized I hadn't been too bad of a mother! They had survived without being mauled by a rabid dog or gotten their heads stuck in a rickety crib but then I got to the end of the booklet and was crushed, devastated, to be honest. It took me to maybe age 4 or 5. I scavenged the coffee table. Where was the "how to keep your teenager alive" booklet? Or the "how to keep yourself alive while raising a teenager" leaflet? No where. Nothing. Not even a post-it with suggested curfew times. Throw me a freaking bone people. What kind of an outfit was this? But, alas, this is where most parenting advice ends and here is where I begin. I'm committed to surviving these tumultuous teen years. So...that's why. And, no, I still don't know if I closed the deal.
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