There are no stupid questions, but I have a few…    

#38 Lenten Reflections

When the kids were growing up I would hear a barrage of questions:

Does rain have poopy? Can we go get a kickstand for my bike and go bowling? Is he drinking the milk you drank? (While breastfeeding) Is the castle at Disney World as big as 1,000 houses? Is there a baseball ride at Disney? Why isn’t there an eleven-dollar bill? Can I use my underwear as a football helmet? I know Santa is real, but what is Rudolph doing?

The face of a child asking questions lights up with a beaming sense of wonder and awe. As parents, we do our best to answer, but we’re tired, and our own wonder and awe are waning. However, I was determined to be a responsive listener even for the most repetitive of their curiosities. Honestly.

So it was with a great sense of shock that I discovered how exasperating my own innocent questions were when directed at my teenage children. In the early teenage years, my probing was met with a cold silence, a sassy word, or blatant disgust. Eventually, I learned to play the teenage conversation chess game. This is when you plan four or five moves ahead and try to forecast where the exchange will go.

Turns out my inquiry creativity is sad. Here are some examples that did not go so well…

How was the test? (Apparently, I assume all tests are graded immediately and my kids have strong feelings about how they went. At the epitome of my naivete, I also thought they wanted to talk about those tests. Especially about “what they got wrong”.)

Do you have homework? (They always have homework and I am reminded it’s not MY homework)

So what DO you think you’ll major in? (Never. Ever ask this. If you do, and they have an answer respond with: “Great idea!”)

Where are you thinking of going to college? (This question should be avoided for every teenager…my daughter was so tired of this question that she yelled in a storm of fury across the kitchen, “If anyone asks what I’m doing after high school, tell them I’m taking FIVE GAP YEARS!!!!!!”)

How was practice? (Unless there is concussion protocol in order, this question will get a “Good” although it depends on the child.)

Everyone show up to swim/the meeting/the race/the scrimmage/dinner? (A stock question I’ve asked since Cora took dance lessons at age six – and I still ask…honestly, does it really matter if everyone showed up?) 

What does this say (fine print)? (This is a fair question, be ready for the eye roll) I haven’t been able to read a medicine bottle for several years without one of the 9 pairs of Costco glasses I have misplaced, so I instead ask one of my kids. “How much does it say to take?” They usually are very careful reading, especially when they are the ones that are sick.

What do you guys want for dinner? (Completely rhetorical question) Unless the kids are planning on shopping, cooking, and serving, there’s no shot I’m looking for an answer. I’m simply outlining my plan aloud, and checking to make sure I have kale. (poor kids)

OR – As soon as there is a lull in a conversation, I fill the silence with logistical questions:

When is the game?

When is the test?

Where is the meet?

When is the paper due?

What time should we show up?

Should we not come? 

Should we leave at 6:00?

If we arrive at 8:30, the race is at 10:00, while we wait, should you work on your project? Maybe fill out two scholarship forms and apply for three summer jobs? 

I know, I’m exhausting. Imagine BEING me. Luckily my youngest son, the one who had soooo many questions as a little guy and never stopped saying, “Mama, mama, mama, mama” is now at age 18, quite patient. He has fewer questions and I have so many. Now I understand why he limits his responses to “no” or “yes” or “I’m good.” As the school year dwindles, he has added: “Please stop asking so many questions.” He’s the only kiddo at home now, so we exchange mercy and grace freely. Understandably he loves it when his brother and sister are home to take their turn listening to me.

Every now and then I try to be like a potted plant in the background on standby, but other times, well, I’m coming in hot and you’re going to get an onslaught of questions. But they won’t be about homework or practice or even Santa and Rudolph.

What I learned:

Listen when they talk. Stop everything. Everything.

Focus on…

The now. 

Right now.

This moment. 

Thanks for joining me,

❤️Lucretia