Mother of a Man-Child

My life with teenage boys

Willing workers! August 24, 2012

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filingLast school holidays the boys were lucky enough to get a couple of days work at my employer. It was not at all planned, just fortuitous that someone asked if the men-children would be interested in a few days casual work over the holidays. And subject to an acceptable hourly rate (like they were in a position to negotiate) and suitable days that worked in with their busy social lives (again, let’s not be difficult), they gladly accepted the offer.

Yes a reminder to all they are both still UNEMPLOYED!!! Not by choice on anyone’s part although I suspect one has stopped really looking for a job….and the other has found one which we won’t allow so he has us over a barrel. Nevertheless, I remind them every time we provide a handout that they DO need to find a job. And I remind them again every time they whinge when I ask for a chore to be completed in exchange for said handout. It’s relentless really.

As an aside, have you ever seen the way a teenage boy hangs out a load of washing? There is no method. Whichever order they pull it out of the washing machine is the same order they throw it over the clothes-horse. And I mean throw! Clearly they have no idea what a coat-hanger was invented for, as I invariably find all the shirts thrown on the line, not hanging……seriously, are they really that stupid, or are they employing the age-old trick of burning the first thing you ever cook so you’ll never be asked to do it again? Probably. 🙂 And it kind of works, because I practically re-hang all the washing after they’ve attempted to do it. I mean if their school shirts don’t drip dry on a coat-hanger then they end up extra, extra wrinkled, which is no good if the ironing lady hasn’t been, because they don’t get ironed otherwise. And then they go off to school looking like they’ve slept in their school uniforms for a week. (Actually one manages this look every day even if his clothes are all pressed).

Anyway, back to their short-term employment. We organised which days they would attend, which meant coming with me in the car to the office and home again. And getting up before midday! Luckily there was an immediate upside for both – extra hours on the L-plates, so no complaints there. As I take my lunch to work every day (I am so glad this culture now exists universally), I explained to them that they too could take their lunch, or pay for it with their “wages”. I told them I refused to fund their meals, when they were earning money, and that what was good enough for me and all my colleagues was also good enough for them. We did make a supermarket stop to load up on snacks, treats, drinks etc to keep them going throughout the day, but that’s just pantry filling in another guise.

Naturally they were quick to embrace the “freebies” provided at the office, the usual tea, coffee, biscuits etc. Before they had even started their working day they were wolfing down a glass of Milo each and a couple of biscuits. It reminded me of the time they first came into Qantas Club with me. You would have thought they’d never had Coca Cola before they way they drank out of the pre-mix machine. If they could have tapped it straight into their mouths they would have. It was hysterical and embarrassing at the same time (although I did just pretend I had no idea whose children they were).

To the men-children’s credit they put in a couple of good days work. They didn’t complain about the drudgery of the tasks they were asked to do (electronic filing, photocopying, tear sheets etc), they worked diligently, knocking off the set tasks in good time, and they remembered their manners. As an employer you couldn’t ask for more than that. Occasionally whilst working they did found time to argue with each other, as they tend to do….to be honest they sounded just like a couple of old men who have nothing better to do than throw barbs at each other all day as they sit and watch the world go by. I swear if they both live to 90 this scene may well repeat itself.

As a mother, I couldn’t ask for more than the compliments they both received from my colleagues in the days that followed. All parents know, regardless of what little shits they can be at home, if they know how to behave in “company”, that’s all that matters.

So would they do it again? Yep. Would the company have them back? Yep. That’s a good start isn’t it? Filling their days AND making money over the holidays has benefits for everyone. 🙂

You can read about their previous employment-seeking exploits here: Man-child I was convinced to try “pyramid-selling”, and Man-child II wanted to work selling burgers midnight to dawn to drunks!

 

Mother of a Man-Child: Tough Love – does it work? April 8, 2011

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heartI am a firm believer in Tough Love.  As defined by Wikipedia, “tough love” is an expression used when someone treats another person harshly or sternly with the intent to help them in the long run.   Of course tough love is infinitely more palatable when sprinkled with doses of good old-fashioned TLC.  A good mix is probably the ideal.

On reflection I would say I was brought up with a mixture of both.  I certainly have wonderfully happy memories of my childhood, but I also recall being brought up by pretty strict disciplinarians, and tough love when required.  It was a case of “you do the crime you pay the time” in our household and if you stuffed up then there were always serious consequences – pretty devastating ones when you’re a teenager and your social life is curtailed!!

The other day Man-Child II left his lunch at home.  We knew that because we found it sitting on the bench, and shortly afterwards he sent me a text message: “I forgot my lunch” (NO, really?).   Father of a Man-Child, being far more sympathetic and kinder than Mother of a Man-Child, instantly offered to take it to school for him.  “Absolutely NOT” I replied, he can go without.  And then I proceeded to text back man-child “Tough shit.  Buy your own or go hungry.”

On a roll, I added a few more messages about the mess left upstairs, no pocket-money being paid, etc as my usual frustrations set in.  Just what you need to start the morning off isn’t it?  Now before you think I am a very mean Mother, the reason he forgot his lunch is that he turned on the TV whilst waiting for his school shorts to dry (yep, I admit due to a rare backlog of washing) rather than packing his bag, making his bed, picking up a bathmat and towel off the floor etc.  So then in the ensuing rush to get out the door, he forgets lunch.

I think Tough Love teaches him that we won’t come running after a 15-year-old every time he forgets something, and hopefully he’ll be sure to remember it next time.  In the same way telling me 5 minutes before the first footy match of the season that his footy socks don’t fit drew very little sympathy.  I said “Oh well, we can’t buy them now.  You’ll just have to wear those and buy some new ones next week”.  Emphasis clearly on him, not me, to organize it.  If he can’t manage to get there after school one day, then bad luck I say.

And tough love extends past home on occasion.  Man-Child II also refused point-blank to wear white footy shorts last week for the “away” game.  No amount of insistence by me would convince him why he should, nor reasoning about rules, regulations, respect for team mates, the club etc.  And so he didn’t and he got away with it.  Apparently he never has worn them (no idea why).  Well tough love is telling his footy coach that next time he decides to flaunt the rules, he doesn’t go on the ground.  He doesn’t play by the rules, he doesn’t play period!

To be fair to Man-Child II, I’ve let him know that we’ve asked his coach to enforce this.  And when he came home from school on the day he forgot lunch, I did say I was sorry about being so angry, but did he understand that I was annoyed because he was disorganized yet again.  That’s when he admitted to turning on the TV.

So there you have it.  Tough Love.  I’m sure people who know me won’t be surprised that I endorse it.  It’s not always easy to do, but I’m convinced it’s worthwhile.  And hopefully deep down our men-children understand our motivation, if not now, then one day in the future.

Do you think I’m too tough?  Or not tough enough?  I promise I can take a stern talking to. 🙂