Getting schooled by my kids

Flying high in Leadville, Colorado

Happy September! We recently got back from an epic vacation through Colorado, Utah and a slice of Navajo Nation in a rented RV.  (Pics over at Instagram) So I’m tempted to devote a whole post to that, and maybe I will at some point.  But in the meantime, in honor of Ye Annual Back to School season, mind if I brag about my kids? Cool. Here goes.

People keep telling me that having adolescent kids is a nightmare—that the mood swings and the attitude and the withdrawal and all the rest are easily as tough as the trials of the toddler years if not worse.  And maybe we’re about to hit that phase, and life is about to get a whole lot harder.

But man, right now, at twelve-and-three-quarters, just shy of teenager-dom, our kids are pretty freaking awesome. They’re thoughtful, curious, funny and creative and fight way less than they used to, with each other and with us. It’s almost like all the crap we’ve tried to instill in them for the past 12 years is finally sinking in.

What’s particuarly beautiful to behold is the way that they are developing their own convictions, and making choices to back them up. They’re not just passengers on this crazy journey of life that the mister and I are piloting, they’re helping navigate. Telling us about the scenery. Pointing out things we might not have noticed before, and teaching us things we might not otherwise have learned.

Clio decided to become a vegetarian at the end of last year. She had been edging toward it for a while, toying around with the possibility. The idea of killing animals bothered her—not that she actually particularly likes being around animals, mind you (too stinky). She’s just soft-hearted when it comes to violence of any kind. Also, bones and juices and skin gross her out.

Still, I confess, I suspected that it might just be a brief phase; that she’d fold once she realized the sacrifices it would require (the girl loves fried chicken like you wouldn’t believe) and the frustration it would sometimes entail—e.g. having to settle for the often crappy “vegetarian options” at restaurants, the school cafeteria, etc.

But here we are, eight months later, and she’s going strong.  She’s never self-righteous about her choice, and doesn’t criticize or judge or proselytize to meat eaters, although she did write a letter to the local paper and school committee, complaining about the lack of vegetarian foods in the middle school cafeteria. (Our fabulous local paper’s fabulous headline for the letter: Middle School Students Rap Menu)

And here’s the thing: While as a family we still eat some poultry and verrrry occasional pork or beef, we eat a lot more meat-free meals than we did before. Which, environmentally, humanely and financially speaking, is a lot better.

As for Elsa (who still eats meat, gladly): A few months ago, brave Elsa, who has always astonished me with their refusal to be anything other their truest self, declared that they were non-binary and wanted to change their pronouns to they/them. I wrote about it recently over at Cognoscenti. (And yes: We all need to get over the grammar awkwardness.)

This was not a huge surprise to us. For several years now, Elsa has been wearing their hair short and dressing in traditionally male clothes. In fact, I remember distinctly how much more comfortable they seemed to feel in their own skin as they began to “own” their androgynous look. It was like something on the inside of them—their energy, their attitude, their…something….was suddenly more in harmony with the inside. And yet there are still parts about Elsa’s behaviors and preferences that are decidedly “female” seeming.

And I know, I know. There’s this ironic thing about gender identity: in a way it ends up affirming the idea that gender is something other than a social construct. For a while, Elsa (and we) just thought of themselves as gender-nonconforming—still a girl, just their own kind of girl. But this past year has been a time of great learning and growing and exploring for Elsa. They’ve met other kids who are questioning or affirming their sexuality and gender identity, read and watched things by other LGBTQ+ people, and have met role models locally who have inspired and nurtured them.

Anyway, for Elsa, genderqueer / non-binary, feels right.

As supportive as we are, though, we’re still adjusting, still learning. I still screw up and say “she” at least a few times a day, and struggle in particular with saying “the kids” instead of  “the girls,” which is what we’ve used to refer to Elsa and Clio collectively ever since they were toddlers. (Before that it was “the babies.” Sometimes, privately, we default to that, just for fun—and to annoy the kids. Which is part of our job description as parents of tweens.) But Elsa, to their credit, is really lovely about being patient with me and others who are still fumbling their way around the “they” thing.

And Clio, meanwhile, is being a trooper as, together, we make new culinary forays into the world of legumes and plant-based protein.

Here’s to lifelong learning, y’all.