My 14 year old daughter was curiously clingy, so I was glad to get home at a reasonable hour to give her some attention. I made dinner and bustled around the house, as usual, until she interrupted my routine and said, "sit with me!"  I was taken aback.  She usually says "leave me alone!"  Keep in mind, because of bad habits, or misplaced priorities, I am not usually willing or able to spend my whole night paying attention to my child.  But this time, recognizing a rare opportunity, I abandoned my busy agenda of chores and sat down next to her on the couch. She proceeded to tell me why she was really stressed out. Many adults think kids don't know stress until they have to work and survive on their own as adults, but I know being a teen is the most stressful time of your life.  Just look at the teen suicide rate!

She said she had an audition coming up for the drama club, and she really, really wanted to get in.  She had to fill out the application, as well as practice her monologue, and the perfect outfit to wear for the audition was at dad's house.  She needed to rewrite her English paper and study for a Spanish test.  But she felt tired, feverish, and her back hurt.  So I reminded her what one of her favorite musicians, Jack White, said: "break down your problems into small pieces and carry them, like the squirrels move a pile of nuts, one by one." She couldn't help receiving this advice with a grin of recognition.

"So." I began, "You have five things that need to get done. Let's do the easiest one first." And she proceeded to fill out the drama club application, while I made us some tea.  That done, we figured out that her dad could bring the outfit she needed to school, just before audition, so she left him a phone message.  Next, we found the V for Vendetta monologue she would use for the audition on the internet, and she practiced out loud while I read along to prompt her.  "You can also practice it several times tomorrow during school, before the tryouts." I suggested.  The Spanish test was not studied for, because she didn't remember what section was to be tested. She decided to rely on what she already knew, and hope for the best. 

Finally, there was the English paper.  She didn't know how it was supposed to be edited, so I read the teacher's comments.  "My thesis is fine, I just need to clean up the argument." she offered. "OK, let me retype this for you, and then see if I can suggest some ways you might rearrange things a bit." I said, taking the paper to my desk and giving her a little break to relax. (On very few occasions, about once a year, I have typed her homework, just to help her deal with an overwhelming day.)  "How's this?" I offered the revised essay for her review. "You changed my thesis!  I said to leave the thesis alone!  Mine was better anyway!"  So she jealously sat down to the computer to fix all my mistakes and finished her homework within minutes.

Now that all her immediate problems had been solved, we had some more tea and I sent her to bed. "Mommy, tuck me in!  Hurry, before I fall asleep!"  This was the first time in years she has asked for me to tuck her in.  What's more, she followed up with an even more surprising request that I read to her.  "Daddy sometimes reads to me.  It helps me fall asleep." She explained.  I was really touched and pleased for this chance to show her that she is a priority for me and that I can provide some help and comfort when she needs it.  But she wanted the light out, and I can't see in dim light.  So I pulled out my reading glasses and that lovely little mag light you bought me, and read to her in the dark.  I didn't hear another peep from her, and in ten minutes I crept out of the room like I had every night when she was little.  In the adolescent climate of ending childhood and pulling away from parents, it is such a relief to rediscover our connection as mother and daughter.  It was like checking inside the buried safe to find your treasure still safe inside.