Headphones & Hormones

They've outgrown the highchairs, they can't hear a word you say, and you don't know whose hormones are worse, yours or theirs. Here's my take on parenting teens as a perimenopausal single mom in 2025.

  • Is Gen Z Better at Dating?

    Gen Z Dating
    Pexels/RDNE Stock project

    There’s a meme floating around that says, “People don’t realize dating a drug dealer when you’re a teenager is key character development.” It cracks me up.

    At 18, my boyfriend owned a tattoo parlor and drove a stick-shift RX-7 with a “Barely Street Legal” decal on the windshield, so I can sort of relate. He left me with more damage than just a scar from a botched naval piercing. In all fairness, I did a number on him too, but that’s just how young love is.

    Or is it? I used to think so. Puppy love turns toxic quickly when you blend hormones with immaturity. But does the lack of a fully formed frontal lobe really prevent young people from developing healthy romantic relationships? Maybe not … anymore.

    When my best friend’s daughter was in high school, I recall asking if she was dating anyone. Her reply – at just 17 years old – was, “I have school and work and friends to worry about before I get distracted by some GUY.”

    I had to pick my jaw up off the floor to praise my friend for the great job she did raising such a mature, self-aware young woman. She humbly expressed gratitude before reminding me how, at that age, she was regularly getting into fist fights over pimple-faced, delinquent boys after school.

    Sounds cliché, but things were just different back then. Case in point: my favorite musician was Eminem. I had memorized every word of his gloriously catchy first album – the one featuring some of the most horrifying lyrics one could imagine about the mother of his child and even his own mother.

    But songs degrading women climbed the charts back then, and we were all mindlessly singing along. Don’t come for me; I still love Eminem. Like the times, he’s done a major 180 (he is literally a grandpa now!). Thankfully, today’s music is, for the most part, a lot less offensive. In fact, there’s currently a TikTok trend where parents show their teenage kids a popular song from their youth to see how shocked they’ll be by the vulgar lyrics. The kids are usually quite stunned.

    There’s no denying it; a dynamic cultural shift has taken effect, and it’s seemingly caused young people to approach dating – and everything that goes along with it – with caution.

    The #MeToo movement started while many Gen Z’ers were in high school, helping to normalize things like consent and bodily autonomy. While older generations see these words and recoil in disgust, younger folks just see common sense. Is giving someone permission to touch you really that absurd?

    Whereas my generation grew up catering to the male gaze, this one sets its beauty standards online. You can dress to impress literally thousands without leaving the house. In my day, if I got all done up and didn’t run into my crush, it was a day wasted. Why did we put so much emphasis on the importance of being sought after by men? I will never understand it.

    The last generations who grew up without social media are constantly slamming the technological revolution, often revering the old days when everyone enjoyed life un-tracked and unbothered. But it might be a root cause of the smarter decisions young people are starting to make when it comes to finding a significant other.

    Today, a girl will post a “selfie” only to find the vast majority of positive comments coming from women: “That eye makeup is fire”; “You are seriously SLAYING in that dress.” While my generation pitted women against each other (ahem, Brandy and Monica), this one is learning the value of lifting each other up, queens fixing each other’s crowns instead of ripping them off. Essentially, girls aren’t posting to impress the guy who commented a bunch of creepy side eye emojis.

    Speaking of creeps… With the surge in online dating, young women are also learning to be more cautious with the people they meet. That’s probably why women are, by far, the largest consumers of true crime. Some of my favorite true crime podcasters are Gen Z women, regularly reminding me that I should keep my drink covered in public and my phone location on at all times. I shudder thinking of how many shots I took in my youth from strangers in bars without a second thought, how many rides home I accepted that could have ended with me pushing daisies.

    It’s not just the girls with their guards up, either. Several friends have reported their teenage sons confided in them regarding not having sex, citing a simple lack of readiness. Perhaps male promiscuity is finally losing appeal? Up until about a decade or two ago, a boy could sleep with a teacher and get a high five from his own father. This is no longer the case, as such predators are finally being held responsible for their disturbing actions, often subject to harsh punishment from the law and ever harsher judgement from the court of public opinion.

    It all boils down to this: our children are living in a different world than the one we grew up in. And that is not always a bad thing. Blame the culture, blame the internet, or maybe just good old fashioned common sense, but our kids are already making better choices than we did. We must be doing something right.

    This article is published in Land of Mothers, Issue 1.

  • Embracing Summertime with Teens

    I will enjoy QUALITY TIME with them this summer if it’s the last thing I do!

    I just bought beach chairs that I really can’t afford. My budget right now is STRICTLY bills, gas and groceries, and sticking to it is harder than opening a jar of Talenti. 

    But I look at my new Tommy Bahama as an investment, one in which time with my children is the currency. I imagine my daughter and I this summer, side by side on the sand in our matching chairs, watching the waves crashing and gossiping over turkey sandwiches. Maybe my son and his sweet girlfriend will join us, and we can chat and get to know each other while soaking in the sea air and sunshine. It sounds like a perfect day, so simple. And yet I’ve never had the chance to make it happen.

    It’s been so long since I had the summer off I don’t even know what to do with myself – or my children. I sure could have used this free time when they were a little younger. There‘s always cheap stuff to do in the summer that won’t cost you an arm and a leg. Library programs, movie matinees, the park, pools, small zoos or aquariums, even the backyard can become an oasis for kids with a little creativity. 

    Unfortunately, teenagers endure a different breed of summertime boredom, one not easily combated with ice cream cones, pool days and singalongs. You can’t even get them out of their rooms most of the time, never mind the whole house. 

    But this summer I am making it my mission to enjoy as much time as possible with my moody teens. 

    I was talking to a friend of mine recently who made an interesting observation about his girlfriend. He said that, although she still lives next door to her parents, they rarely spend any actual time together, and it he found it strange. My own parents moved a thousand miles away, and I found her situauation more relatable than he did.

    So I asked him if he spent a lot of time with his own parents growing up, to which he replied that his father used to force him to spend time together. The dad pick would him up from wherever he was hanging with his friends and they’d go to the park or a movie or whatever. He said he’d get annoyed leaving his friends at first, but then his dad would crack a joke and they’d laugh and he’d forget all about everything else.

    He then added sadly, “I’m especially happy now for that time together, since he passed away when I was 15.”  

    Damn. That hit hard.

    I’m not saying I need to drop everything and spend some time with the kids in case I also drop dead soon (although it’s not the worst motivation). I just need to find new ways to connect with them so that someday, when they are adults, they will go out of their way to spend time with me as much as I do for them now. I’m not sure, but I think it really is that simple.

    I’m not gonna go all full on North Korea, cutting off wifi and locking devices in a safe to get them to touch grass this summer (another true story), but I’m going to ever-so-gently prod them into some quality time that will be good for all of us.

    How hard can it be? (Famous last words..)

    Pexels/Leeloo The First

  • Teach Your Daughters to Reach for Stars, Not Rings

    We need to stop giving a platform to sick people…

    I just watched a clip of some misogynistic prick (who doesn’t deserve a platform) publicly lecture a 14-year-old girl on why she should go to school for her “MRS degree” instead of political journalism. Since my parents did not deeply fail me, I had to google this term. 

    So, apparently, getting an “MRS degree” is when a woman attends college for the sole purpose of finding a husband. Seems popular in Utah, if that helps paint a picture of what it is and also why I, a progressive raised in Brooklyn, not only loathe the existence of such a notion, but the word itself makes me physically ill.

    Currently, I am a person that a grotesque portion of America hates (and not just for our strongly opposing political views). I am unemployed, I am on Medicaid and was recently approved for SNAP benefits. To some, I am suckling from the nourishing teat of the federal government. At least, that’s the picture they paint of anyone in need of these services.

    But I do not care what they think of me. While having my debit card declined at a supermarket with a cart full of groceries and a growing line behind me was not a high point in my life, I am not ashamed to admit that I am utilizing government assistance. I got my first job at 14 and have been paying into the system ever since. It’s a simple fact, and part of why I pay taxes. Anyone in my position would feel the same.

    But why am I in this position, you ask? Why would a college-educated professional in her forties be in need of food stamps, you ask? Well, because I traded my own degree for an “MRS” back in my twenties, and shit has been rolling downhill ever since.

    I want to make two things crystal clear. First, I created two perfect, beautiful lives, and I wouldn’t trade either of my amazing children for anything in the world. I only wish I had the world to give them, instead of hand-me-downs and boring summers. 

    Second, I had big dreams. It was never my intention to be swept off my feet by some hot Marine heading off to boot camp, then get knocked up and quit my first corporate job to raise a baby alone while daddy went off to war. But that is literally what happened. I was a lot more hopelessly romantic than hopelessly logical back then, and like the optimist I was, I figured it would all work out. Happily Ever After would start the day hubs returned and met our son. It did, for a little while, at least. I even have some magical photos to prove it. Real hero homecoming tearjerkers.  

    But like the undiagnosed ADHDer I also was back then, I decided if it didn’t all end up working out perfectly, I’d just worry about it later. And worry about it later I did…

    Because also on my list of things I never intended was getting a divorce at the start of a global pandemic. 

    So, exactly five years to the day Mr. Sexy Marine moved out, I finally tapped out. I had to call it. I just couldn’t do it all for one more fucking day. It started with me alone, homeschooling two children while working my own full time remote job and ended with me alone, rage quitting because I was on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown. I had gotten great at being alone, but my mental health was fully depleted, and it was taking a toll on every aspect of my life, even – especially – parenting my children. 

    I want to add that their dad is not a bad guy. We are just such different people now than we were back then. Hell, we were different back then but you have some thick blinders on when you’re in love at that age. But we were SO fundamentally different by the end of our marriage that our Myers Briggs tests were complete opposites. Two fully clashing personalities trying to raise kids does not make a very happy home. I probably should have known it would end badly when our first fight was about whether or not Hillary could be president. 

    So here I am, on a mental vacation I have needed since 2008. Money is beyond tight, but if I couldn’t rely on the government for that help I don’t know where I’d be. It’s been there for me in ways no “MRS degree” could ever be. 

    So when I see douche canoes like this “man” asking young, impressionable girls to give up their freedom, their education, their ticket to a life lived their own way, FOR A MAN, it fills me with absolute rage. 

    Being a mom is absolutely amazing, but being a single mom – with a career – is a struggle. I lost sight of my future for a guy. I gave it up for some kind of bullshit American Dream. Turns out the real American Dream? Is simply utilizing your rights to become whoever you damn well please. In MANY other places around the world, things we consider rights, things we take for granted, are a privilege not enjoyed by all.

    In America, women enjoy freedom of education (well, for now at least, before we go full Handmaid’s Tale). Ever hear of the AMAZING Malala Yousafzai? She was literally shot in the head by the Taliban just for being a girl in Pakistan trying to get an education. Thankfully, she survived and went on to become an activist, a Nobel Peace Prize winner, and truly one of the most inspiring women of our time.  

    And here we have walking piles of garbage telling impressionable CHILDREN to just give up their education for some GUY? Gross.

    Shame on us as a society for allowing a vile human being like that to be platformed, and shame on the parents of every young person in that room for letting their child occupy the same toxic air space as him. They’re probably safer in Chernobyl.

    Let’s do better for our daughters. Let’s do better for all of our children. Let’s just do better.

    Photo: Pexels/Kaboompics.com

  • Why is Middle School THE WORST?

    I’m pretty sure middle school is the seventh circle of hell. 

    Why is middle school the worst?

    I know the expression goes, “Little Kids, little problems; big kids, big problems,” but someone could have warned me it would be more like, “Medium kids, huge problems.” 

    And when I say huge, I mean COLOSSAL. Everything is a the biggest deal ever.  For my tween, “I can’t find my air pods” is delivered with the same urgency as, “The kitchen is on fire.” True story, the kitchen was ACTUALLY ON FIRE once and my son relayed this information with the level of priority that missing headphones actually deserve. It was quite the explosive mixup. 

    My daughter will be entering high school very soon, a whole ass teenager. Of all the ages and stages a parent sees their child through, apart from infancy, none are as drastic as the start of middle school versus the end of middle school.

    A little under three years ago, I waved goodbye to a smiling little angel, bouncing off to her first day of sixth grade. And she waved back!

    Next week, I will shoulder-ram my way past the laundry pile blocking the entry to the dark void that is her bedroom, and wake her for the last time as a middle schooler. My “little angel” will then glare at me from under her fluffy Costco blanket and silently wish for an anvil to drop on my head. Or whatever Gen Z’s equivalent to that is. A death selfie, maybe? 

    It’s not that they stop loving us, or start hating us or anything that dramatic. It’s mostly just the hormones. It’s literally science. But that does not mean it does not suck.

    And it’s not just about the moods. It’s everything. The bullies. The popularity contests. The clothes. The pressure to fit in. The pressure to stand out. The never-ending cringe everywhere and all around. And do not get me started on social media.

    Before middle school the most pressure these kids felt was trying to catch all those damn Pokémon. 

    I can recall my own middle school experience with ease but not much pleasure. I went in like Elizabeth Wakefield from Sweet Valley High and out like Angela from My So Called Life (minus the part where I got to make out with Jordan Catalano).

    I remember it all so well. Shamefully, I recollect talking badly about one friend to another behind her back the way preteen girls do. And I didn’t even do it on a cool hamburger phone, so who did I think I was anyway?

    I recall having my first crush, not understanding why I suddenly gave a shit about the boy who had annoyed my life 24/7 since sixth grade. It all seems so silly now, but back then the way that boy smiled at me with those metal braces and that blonde mushroom cut practically set my world ablaze.

    And when we broke up… ugh.

    That’s why the hardest part is watching them, knowing how tough what they are going through is, having been there before, albeit a lifetime ago, but understanding that uncontrollable feeling of being pulled in many directions at once. It can be heartbreaking to watch as a parent because you can only do so much for them. You truly feel helpless.

    Sure, sometimes (OKAY, a lot of times), they piss you off with their unnecessary mood swings and misery. At times, you even get the urge to go all boomer and let them know you’ll give them something to cry about. But you know (and they know) the worst thing you’ll do is turn off the wifi. To which really might cry.

    These crucial tween years of kids’ lives are so important because they act like they don’t need you at all anymore, when in reality they need you more than ever. So you toe the line in the shadows as a parent, keeping just enough distance for your child to never see you but to always feel you there. It’s harder than it seems, but if you care enough, you’ll get it right. 

    So try not to get too depressed watching your children grow up. It’s all normal, it means they’re thriving and not just surviving.

    And it also means they’re finally old enough to stay home without a sitter, so you can take that ride to clear your head (or pick up wine or a weed gummy, if you indulge) after a particularly seventh-circle-of-hell kinda day. No one will blame you. Least of all me. Cheers!

    Photo: Pexels/RDNE Stock project

  • A Letter to My Son on the Eve of Graduation

    To My Awesome Little Man,

    Here we are, sweet boy. An incredible milestone—elementary school graduation. It’s a big one. Tomorrow you cross that bridge to official tween-hood, ready to begin your junior high journey, and I can’t believe how far we’ve come.

    From a curious little preschooler who yammered obsessively about sharks and dinosaurs all day, to a silly grade school jokester with the most infectious laugh anyone has ever heard, to a now handsome and studious young man with hopes, dreams, and a heart bursting with love, it’s been one heck of a ride watching you grow.

    Your grade school years won’t soon be forgotten, not by me anyhow. I remember your first crush—how it took you two years to work up the nerve to give her a Valentine’s Day card (and a mere five minutes to get over it when she was mean to your friends in the school yard. Bros before…well, you know).

    I remember how crushed you were when your best friend stopped talking to you because you weren’t as good in sports as he seemed to think he was. It broke my heart to see you hurting so much, but unbeknownst to me, it only pushed you to try harder than ever. Last week your football team won the championship thanks to your impressive quarterback skills (Go Eagles!).

    I remember how nervous you were to start in a new school, how impressive it was to watch you progress from the shy new kid to someone who helps out his classmates and is loved by friends and teachers alike.

    I know we clash a lot –A LOT— but it’s only because we are more alike than you’ll ever understand. When you’re in pain, I feel your pain. It’s not just a mom thing— it’s because we are so much the same, you and me. The anxiety, the shyness, the sarcasm—you get it from your mama! I’m sorry for some of it, but not all of it. I’m so insanely proud of the young man you are that it’s helped me overcome some of my own insecurities. I suppose if I could create someone as wonderful and amazing as you, I must be doing a few things right.

    When I say I’m proud of you, you simply don’t understand just how intense that feeling is. And you likely won’t until the day you have a child of your own. When I look at how far you come, what you’ve accomplished, and how much you’ve grown….I’m overcome with this emotion I can hardly explain. I’m in awe of you. I’m bursting at the seams with pride. It’s indescribable, this feeling of love mixed with pride. Quite simply, you (along with your sister, of course) are my greatest accomplishment ever.

    I’m already bracing myself for the teenage years. I haven’t heard many good things about that particular stage of parenting so I’m gonna need you to go easy on me, ok? I’m having a hard enough time as it is loosening my grip, giving you another inch of freedom every day. I can’t bear the thought of letting go of your innocent little hand for good.

    So tonight I say a final good night to my elementary schooler, who will wake up and be closer to adulthood than he’s ever been. I’ll try not to cry as you flash me that signature, awkward, half-smile you plaster on when you’re feeling uncomfortable on stage. And I promise I’ll try not to squeeze the life out of you after the ceremony, when I wrap my arms around my gorgeous little graduate, savoring one of the last public hugs I will likely be permitted for a very long time.

    I love you, my sweet, hilarious, handsome, funny, unbelievably amazing little man. Congratulations on this big step.

    Love always,

    Mommy