Confessions of a Recovering “Circus Mom”: Lessons in Raising Teens

Last summer, I spent four days camping with my 15-year-old twins, which was nourishing and fulfilling. However, leading up to the trip, it was increasingly difficult to hold onto the belief that we would have a good time together. The twins both kept complaining and grumbling about going. This special summer vacation with just the three of us that I had been looking forward to was devolving—fast. 

"Gah, Mom! I’ve barely seen my friends this summer, and now you are making me go on this dumb camping trip!" my son huffed.

"This is so dumb," my daughter said flatly, flicking something from her nails and staring off into space. 

In a momentary wavering of maturity, I considered telling them how DUMB I thought they were both being. Thank goodness I was able to hold the comment back; it would not have been a shining parenting moment. 

Maintaining my enthusiasm about the trip was becoming more and more challenging in the face of their negative comments and opposition. And my teens’ lack of enthusiasm wasn’t just about camping; seemingly anything associated with me or our family life was “dumb” to them these days. Parenting teenagers can be hard and demoralizing, and this was just another one of those challenges. As the trip approached, I could sense my growing anxiety and confusion about taking them. Had everything changed, and I just couldn't accept it? Was this going to be fun at all? Was I doomed to spend my weekend in a state of forced enthusiasm, draining myself with relentless “circus mom” energy, proclaiming in a high-pitched (i.e., desperate) voice, “Isn't this fun?! Wow, this is so cool!!” as I coaxed my reluctant teens along?

Why was I doing this?  

This is supposed to FUN, damn it, and they are taking ALL the fun out of it, I resentfully thought. I was also starting to feel a seeping sadness. Hadn't my husband and I been loading the kids into the car for countless weeks of camping all over the country since they were in diapers? Had we not taught them the value of spending time immersed in nature? As the trip approached, I was getting a firm “no” from them on this question, and it broke my heart.

Then negative thoughts began racing through my mind—I had officially been hijacked by my fear. What have we done wrong? If our kids don't value time in nature, who will they become? “Basement-dwelling blobs who aren't engaged with the world or their community” was the only answer I could come up with. My inner narrative got substantially more extreme with each negative thought: My kids are more interested in their devices than family time. They care more about watching Netflix than traveling and new experiences. Then the worst of the worst narratives arrived on cue. I have failed to instill my cherished values in my children—I am a total failure, and they will be total failures, too. 

Clearly, my mind was on a runaway train. Parental shame had taken over my thinking and feelings, and it is a dangerous, dangerous thing. The magnitude of the fear that takes over the mind and body of a parent is in exact proportion to how deeply they love their child. Loads of love equals loads of fear. The more we love something, the higher the stakes become—and parenting often feels like an all-or-nothing game of cards. Either we do a great job and our kids are the next CEOs of the Universe, or we fail miserably and they rot somewhere in the sewers of society. In our distress, we can't see any other (rational) options. Shame distorts the truth, predicting worst-case scenarios in which our children turn out poorly and we are to blame because of how utterly, completely incompetent we are. 

I considered cancelling the trip altogether. 

The thought of canceling the trip was a wake-up call—I needed to pause and check in with myself. My fear had taken over, and I felt the weight of defeat in my body. My thoughts were sad and untrue, so I used the tools I teach my clients to shore myself up. 

When self-doubt and failure creep in, one of the best reset tools is challenging negative thoughts with truth-based facts. I started with the most straightforward fact: teens are hard-wired to push away and separate their identities from their parents. My teens were doing their developmental “job” very well, showing no interest in a family trip.

My reality-based thought to counter my fear about them rejecting family time went like this: “They are not rejecting time with family; they're rejecting being away from friends, which is their number one goal in life. They still value family. It’s just taking a back seat to hanging out at the pool with their buddies right now."

Then, when my fear said, “Maybe they don't value and appreciate nature the way you do,” my reality-based counter to this fearful thought was, “If I want nature to be valued, I have to keep engaging in nature-based family activities to help nurture this appreciation in them.” I also reminded myself that this is part of my job as a parent: to keep exposing my children to things I deem important, even when they push back.

That last idea is where so many parents get tripped up. As children grow older, their focus shifts towards spending more time with social relationships, often leading to resistance when asked to participate in family activities. Parents may interpret this as rejection or become discouraged by repeated refusals. This is the place to lean in when parenting teens, despite your weariness (and trust me, I know you are tired and may even feel a little hopeless). When my fear said, "They are teens. The ship has sailed on them wanting to go camping with you," I leaned away from the thought and toward my values as beacons in the dark. 

Prioritizing a connection with nature is one of my life’s guiding principles. When daily decisions are aligned with values, life feels more purposeful and meaningful. This camping trip was what I wanted to expose my children to and how I wanted to spend time with them, no matter their age or their complaining. I reminded myself of what I already knew: Continuing to expose my kids to experiences I value is critical to imparting those values. It was unsettling to think that I had almost canceled the trip because my teenagers didn't have stars in their eyes about going. If I let their bad attitude and negative feedback guide our family trips and experiences, they would spend their high school years watching YouTube, eating frozen pizza, and hanging out at the 29th Street Mall. I needed to be in charge of this decision as the parent in the room and not let their negativity or developmental agenda sway me from family ideals. Part of my role as a parent is to lead our family in decisions informed by my wisdom and decades of lived experiences. They may make different decisions about their values and how they spend their time when they are adults, but this is my season to leave an imprint. 

Let's get real: this is easier when kids are younger, and you can simply scoop them up and put them in the car. As kids become adolescents, they verbalize their disinterest more venomously, and picking them up and buckling them into the back of the car is no longer an option. With teens, parents need to pivot and really listen to their opinion, while holding firm on family time together. This is not easy when faced with persistent pushback, grumbling, or downright belligerence. But it is no more complicated than the many challenging aspects of parenting kids of any age, so I lovingly encourage you to keep at it. Keep being the parent in the room; keep making the hard decisions in their best interest. I am not suggesting that parents take on a bullying attitude or an authoritarian parenting style that stifles freedom of expression and voice. Parenting is not a dictatorship. But despite their best arguments, your teenagers need you to make some of these decisions on their behalf, because you have a fully developed prefrontal cortex and they don't. 

After some reality checks to settle my fear, I acknowledged my teens’ lack of enthusiasm about the trip while I kept our plan. I did not negotiate, try to “sell” the trip, or lecture on my disappointment about their behavior. I just kept moving forward. They packed up and helped me load the car with surprisingly good attitudes, having given up the sulking before we even hit the road. I let them pick the music for the car ride, and they got a kick out of my tolerance for Mac Miller and Drake. (I definitely gave myself a parenting gold star for listening to hours of rap music!) Ironically, we put the tent up like a well-oiled machine with much less arguing than when my husband and I put it up together!

One afternoon, as they tied their hammocks in the trees for some “chill time” together, I sat by the river and took in their playful and childlike behavior. Away from TVs and smartphones, they were silly and carefree. My mothering heart was filled to the brim with contentment. I had a moment of self-validation as I thought about how I kept my ship headed towards the beacon of my values, and we landed in the place I believed was waiting for us. They engaged in every moment of the trip—and would even tell you they had fun. We spent a deeply bonding weekend rafting down the Arkansas River, playing card games, sitting around the fire, and in periodic fits of laughter. As the embers glowed on our last night, casting dancing shadows on their still young faces, I felt grounded in a deep sense of believing that the joy of parenthood is found in navigating toward simple moments like this one.

Enjoy the slow- Heather