Category: Parenting

Family, family conversations, Kids growning up, Parenting

Finding Time to Talk With Your Kids

Mona Alvarado Frazier
celebrationofwomen.org

About once a month the stars align, the mood is right, and the temperature is at a perfect balance, yes, and the bluebirds sing a pleasing melody. No this isn’t a commercial for Cialis. It’s a picture of that perfect time when you (the parent) want to talk to the kids and they let you. More than that it’s that time when you have a meaningful exchange about each other’s state of mind, dreams, and goals. 

You do know by now, that there is no perfect time to talk with your kids. I used to think that the best time to talk with them was when I held them hostage in the car on the way to school. Those short times elicited the one word response and/or a mild grunt. I ended up spouting a soliloquy. Sometimes they’d surprise me with more than one word: “I don’t know, mom.” Among three kids (Only Daughter, Vegan Son, Oldest Son) that took all of five seconds–total. 


But I jest. A little. 

Whatever it is that aligns perfectly to allow a more than 60 second exchange of conversation may be unknown but after all these years my children have shown a pattern of ‘ripeness’ for meaningful conversation. Each of them has their own ‘ripe’ time. 

For Only Daughter (OD) it’s when she and I go out for lunch and a movie, or basically when we eat and watch a movie at home. These are the times when I learn so much about what’s happening in her world.  She’s in her eighth month of study in the health field and she shares funny stories of ‘veni-punctures’ gone awry, someone who has the hands of a clumsy giant, and how pediatrics would be a great field except she doesn’t think she can work with critically ill children-it’s too sad. She’d like to work with a sports medicine doctor (gee, I wonder why) or with a chiropractor so she can get free adjustments. I also find out “can you believe it, xx is pregnant…so and so has so many problems with her mom…I’m worried about her, she chooses the worst boyfriends…” I sit and listen.

Everyday, she says, she feels herself getting closer and closer to graduating, getting a good job, a car, and finding a ‘cute’ apartment for her and her chinchillas, rat, and fish. My smile is ear to ear. OD says “I’ll finally get to decorate my own place not just my little room.” She has  very cool flea market finds accumulated in her closet. The conversation goes on for many more minutes… 


…and then I feel a little sad, because the girl in front of me no longer has her hair cut in a cute bob nor does she wear pink. She is a grown woman, who dyes her own hair, has a tattoo “To Thine Own Self Be True,” and has a unique fashion sense that ranges from 5 inch glitter heels to Minnetonka moccasins, Betsey Johnson to Target dresses, and five year old skinny jeans.


Everyday I feel her stepping out into her future and I don’t know if I’m ready yet. But I figure I have another eighteen months with her at home before she can afford to move out. And when that day comes, I hope she’ll still want to go ‘do lunch’ or watch movies with mom. 


Until then, the quest for ‘ripe’ times to talk to each of my three kids, is a priority. Even if I end up in a monologue.

Parenting, Teenage road trip, Travel

Teenage Road Trip-Part Dos

Mona Alvarado Frazier
photo by Jim unprofound.com

My two youngest hit the dark road at 3:30 a.m. heading to San Francisco for three days. My son is nineteen, my daughter twenty-two, and they took three friends with them in a small SUV. Remember those days? Some of us did that kind of thing in a VW, the Beetle, not the van. Ah, to be young.
They’re probably cramped up by now.

A few months back, Vegan son planned his first road trip. I’m using ‘planned’ in the loosest sense of the word. He abandoned his SF trip and headed to Santa Barbara instead. This time the kids have a hotel, courtesy of mom, because it’s what Adventure daughter wanted for her birthday.

Vegan son didn’t take luggage, not even a backpack.

     “My toothbrush fits in my pocket and I have on two other t-shirts under this one.”
     “Oh-kay.” (eye-roll and nose scrunch)
     I didn’t ask about underwear. Glad I’m not in the car with him for six hours.

Adventure daughter had her Harajuku camouflaged Duffle bag for her two night stay, a Trader Joe’s grocery bag filled to the brim with eats, a small rolling cooler for beverages, and a map in her hand (in case the GPS on their phones didn’t work). The other three teens had backpacks, bags of snacks, and smiling faces. Their parents didn’t come over to see them off.

photo by Jim unprofound.com

It was with a little melancholy that I said “safe travels, have fun,” as I tried to be as innocuous as possible in my cheetah print flannel PJ’s and robe. I  had to search their faces to see a glimmer of their eager smiles hidden beneath their cool exteriors when I reminded them to be alert.

Did you take your chargers, your insurance cards, jumper cables, Triple A card, water bottles…?
“Maaah-mumm.”
They got into the car without a look back. I know they glance in the rear view mirror and see 19 and 22 year old young adults. But I see 6 and 9 year old children looking back at me.

My mom’s voice blasted through my thoughts: “when you have kids, you’ll know…” Yeah, yeah–but it’s true. I wanted to throw that maxim in my kids detached emotionless faces, but I didn’t. I know they heard me.

At seven fifteen Vegan son texted me that they were at a rest stop. They saw the sun rise over the San Luis Obispo mountains earlier: “Ah-sum,” he said.

At eleven o’clock, Adventurous daughter texted “Here.”
Noon: “They said they need your ID and Credit Card #, front and back, by fax or email or a $100 deposit, I don’t have $100,” Adventure daughter wails.
12:30: We don’t have a fax so three emails and phone calls later (incorrect address) the card info is sent.
12:35: “Ok, thank you so much.”

I can take a nap now, since I’ve been up since three thirty this morning. It’s hard to let go and believe that they don’t need mom.
Well, maybe they do, for a hotel.