Some Perspective

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The hardest thing to do when writing is to not be overly critical nor overly positive. Extremes are easier, and they perform better online, meant to be metabolized in seconds. Even when writers try to capture as much of the full picture as possible, their words are — as political writer Michael Scherer says in The Atlantic — “turn[ed] into cortisol and endorphins” via social media platforms, “often for people who will never click the link to read what I wrote…the information delivered in feeds and podcasts has been torqued away from reality to seize our attention.”

Nuance requires time, patience, openness, and interest, but the result is worth the cognitive effort. Take this long, but enjoyable, look at the life of one American 12 year old. Writer Anna Weiner basically embedded herself for months with Mira, “a sixth grader with an open, angelic face and an ebullient presence.”

Some of our favorite quotes:

“Tweens and teens look to each other for clarity and guidance on how to behave and how to feel, all the while gambling with each other’s social confidence and self-esteem. It is natural, and it is psychotic.”

“Maybe crushes were happening, maybe not; none of my business. Maybe widespread openness toward sexual identity and gender weren’t enough to offset the raw vulnerability of wanting to be special to someone.”

“Early adolescence was a sustained state of cognitive dissonance. It was a time of learning to take yourself seriously while wearing Unicorn Snot; of being clothed and transported by your parents while seeing them as critically as anyone ever would. It was a period when you could be aware of violent, sexual, criminal abuses of power; immediately identify the sexism of a ‘vintage’ workplace dramedy; and mostly find the boys in your own life annoying. It was exhilarating, exhausting, and fleeting.”

Just as adolescence is not one thing, neither is parenting. There’s no succinct way to describe the experience of being a mom. That makes nailing Mother’s Day messaging tough. You either get treacle or careful concessions about how this occasion can be hard.

To have a baby is to commit yourself to a lifelong relationship with a stranger. It’s wild. Over time, you get to know them. They surprise and delight you, and push your buttons. Then they become adults, and they leave. The topic of this week’s feature! Read on for that, plus a few recommendations for your weekend.

Bye,
Your friends at Gloria

​​People don’t talk about the next phase. They’re not “done” after all. I thought the “bigger” issues were cliques, crushes, underage drinking, and getting into college. But now my kid is out there, living in another city, navigating things big and small every day. And I can’t stop thinking about everything I forgot to teach her. Big things. Way bigger than waiting her turn, holding eye contact, or wiping front-to-back. Now it’s: Will she recognize signs of abuse in a relationship? Does she really know never to leave her drink alone at a bar? And what DOES depression look like in a 20-year-old?

The other night I woke in a cold sweat because I’ve never taught my daughter to do a breast exam. How did I miss that? For years, I was focused on helping her through the trauma of simply growing breasts. It only hit me recently that she has to live with them for the rest of her life so she better learn how to goddamn take care of them. You go from covering the basics of sex to frantically playing catch-up on the drive to university: “…you know you still need to use condoms even if you go on the pill, right? And you’re aware that HPV is skyrocketing in young women because of, um, blow jobs?”

I’m always remembering something else I haven’t told her, like staying away from Red Bull even when it’s 5am, and she’s tired but promised her housemates she’d stay up to watch the sunrise — does she know what’s in that stuff? Also, if she IS going to watch the sunrise (which she totally should, but she should leave her phone at home and just experience it) she should do it from a hilltop, not perched precariously on the edge of her roof.

On the subject of housemates: Will she ignore their casual assertion that Ativan is great for nerves or that taking their ADD meds when she needs to cram is absolutely okay? Does she know in her bones that electric shock is a thing, and to keep the blow dryer well away from the tub? Is she aware that turning on a gas burner to make eggs at 4am while draped in a silk kimono with droopy sleeves is a bad idea no matter how sexy and French it looks? Speaking of fires — does she know how to stop, drop, and roll? I vaguely remember mentioning it at various points in her childhood, but it’s not like I ever held a fire and safety workshop. Why did I never do that??

I know, I know: I can’t teach her everything. I can’t live her life for her. She needs to go through stuff. Mistakes will be made. I can’t protect my daughter from pain or hurt. If anything, my micromanaging pushes her away. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to teleport her to some future point — age 35 would be good — so she emerges from this decade unscathed.

They say that at 20, you can stretch a hand in one direction and touch your childhood and in the other direction and graze your adult self. In between those two points, there’s just fumbling in the dark. I know the fumbling is essential. And yet… I ruminate. Last summer, my daughter appeared to be struggling. I spoke to my husband about it. I mentioned boy trouble, a new job, and navigating roommates and a house for the first time. He patiently waited for me to stop talking. “That’s called ‘life,’” he said.

And he’s right. It’s life. But it’s hard to be the parent of a young adult. It’s hard to know your role, your place, when — and how much — to intervene. Yes, she’s 20, but I’m still the first person she calls when she cracks her phone or questions her major.

And what about when we are genuinely worried about our fledgling adults? When we see them making bad choices? Acknowledging that I’ve lost control doesn’t happen overnight. Accepting that I can’t force my kid to eat more or vape less takes time. I know 20 sounds old, but you’d be amazed how young it looks when they’re asleep in their childhood bed.

I know I’m a helicopter parent, a lawnmower parent, and whatever over-parenting term they come out with next. I’m working on it. My own mom died when I was 21, so there was certainly no one hovering. But I did pick up some bad habits. There was no one to tell me that bingeing and purging was a bad idea, for example, or that smoking was maybe not the best hobby for someone with a family history of cancer, or that flying down a very steep hill, drunk, at 2am, minus a helmet or light, was anything but a death wish. But maybe every 20-year-old has a death wish. Or maybe feeling invincible goes hand in hand with being 20. Maybe I would have listened to my mom’s advice. More likely, I would have told her what she wanted to hear and kept riding full-tilt down that hill.

We saw and loved Suffs (the Tony Award-winning musical about the American suffragist movement) on Broadway and were so sad when it closed. It stayed with us long after we left the theater. Now, thanks to Great Performances on PBS, everyone can experience its magic as part of The WNET Group’s Broadway and Beyond collection of must-see theater programming.

Created by Tony Award-winner Shaina Taub, this Broadway musical tells the story of the American suffragist movement and the friendships, heartbreak, and action that united women — or, in some cases, tore them apart. Starring Taub as Alice Paul and Nikki M. James as Ida B. Wells. It’s funny, moving, and we learned a lot (our kids loved it, too).

Streaming tonight at 9 pm. Watch it here. #partner

TO WATCH The popular Shelly Van Pelt novel Remarkably Bright Creatures is now a film on Netflix starring Sally Field. Yes, it is about her friendship with a giant octopus — but we’ve heard it’s great! Also in talking animal movies: We’ll probably have to go to theaters to see The Sheep Detectives.

TO RENT Spring and summer event season is here, and instead of panic-buying dresses for every wedding, graduation, shower, and party on the calendar, we’re using the rental service Armoire. You can rent great pieces, without being stuck with a closet full of one-offs. Shipping, cleaning, and styling are included, sizes run 0–3X, and you can pause or cancel anytime. Right now, Gloria readers can get up to 60% off their first month, plus two free bonus items with code GLORIA. Try it here. #partner

TO LISTEN Broken Social Scene’s new album, Remember the Humans, feels like the indie rock group’s earlier hits. A real blast from the past. Try “The Call” first.

TO BAKE You don’t need to wait for stone fruit to hit the greenmarket to kick off crumble season. We have had this quick and easy fruit crumble saved to try; it looks wonderful and it’s made with frozen cherries. We’re just going to sub some extra lime zest for the Makrut lime leaves.

TO TRY This book is meant to be cut up, torn apart, turned into letters, agendas and art. We impulse-bought one at Barnes & Noble and have had so many fun collage- and card-making times with our kids. There are stickers, mini journals, even wrapping paper tucked inside, and the colors and patterns are super cool.

It’s not just women; middle-aged men are also facing pressure to increase their “hotspan.” • Playboy investigates the rise of AI chatbot-fueled affairs. • Menopause boobs: What’s the deal? • “RFK Jr. clears path for minors’ use of tanning beds, much to the dismay of dermatologists.”  • Acknowledging a few of the physical challenges of being on a GLP-1. • Is this memoir really making people hate their husbands?

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