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I was done having kids, knowing that I wanted only two.
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Then, in 2020, my 15-year-old nephew moved in with us.
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I was naive to think that parenting a teenager would be easier than parenting a toddler.
After my son was born on a sunny Sunday afternoon, I was done having kids. First, we had a daughter, and then our son joined the mix, and I knew two was enough.
But as any parenting story goes, things didn’t turn out like I planned.
Three years later, I was surprised to find myself nesting again. This time, I traded a crib for a desk. When I prepared for my teenage nephew’s arrival, I envisioned him hunched over the wooden table, cramming for a calculus test or writing his college entrance essays.
This vision actually did come true — he was studious and had a pretty steady head on his shoulders when he arrived on our doorstep. But much of what I had planned for him was different from the detailed picture I had painted in my head.
I was potty training and raising a teen
When my 15-year-old nephew moved in with us in 2020, though I didn’t know it at the time, I was graced with the gift of ignorance. I was raising little ones, 6 and 3, fully immersed in potty training, sleep regressions, and finger foods stuffed in unfortunate crevices all around my home. I was in the messy littles era, a physically taxing period of parenting.
Maybe I was dumb and naive to think that parenting a teenager wouldn’t be much harder than handling little children, but I like to think that going in blind is what helped me raise him through his high school years.
My nephew’s parents deal with addiction, and when we heard he moved out of his mom’s house and bounced between extended family’s places, my husband and I wanted to help. We offered a safe and dependable place for him to finish growing up, two hours away from his hometown.
He left everything he knew, including his little half-sister, behind with his mom and her boyfriend and started new with us. But, really, we started anew with each other. In those next three years together, we’d learn what raising a teenager would mean. We quickly learned to often switch our mindsets and come at each obstacle from scratch. I had to learn to let go. I had to learn to trust that he had to go out and make mistakes.
We had clear boundaries
I had to realize that much of that foundation built in his earlier years is already there. I can’t change what happened in his past, but can I guide him on what to do with the cards he was dealt? It was about witnessing what he can do with it, without us. I learned to be there for when the bones and drywall are nailed in, and let him decide where everything goes, with smart boundaries.
I often bounced between stern and serious or goofy auntie, but I always made it a priority to make boundaries clear because I learned that these child minds in adult bodies need them, even though they’re pissed at you for making them in the moment.
Maybe it was easier for me to look at it that way — after all, he wasn’t my son; we didn’t start together from the very beginning in those messy, hands-on days. Some can say I wasn’t as invested, but maybe that’s what worked for us. I could better remove that layer of overprotection mode, I feel, when I’m with my own kids.
I tried to remember what it was like to be a teen
Because he wasn’t my son, I could change gears more easily. I’m not a risk taker, but this guardian dynamic made me operate more like a startup, shifting with changing market conditions. It meant I made many calls to close family and friends who’ve dealt with teens and asked them for their advice. I was learning as I went, and when things got really hard, I relied on the memory of what it was like to be a teenager.
We dealt with it all with him: moving in, dealing with his parents, friends, girls, sex, curfews, drugs, alcohol, getting a license, driving, grades, sports, jobs at home, jobs out of the house, choosing colleges, applying to colleges, and, ultimately, moving him out and sending him off to the dorms into the next chapter of his life.
I made many mistakes along the way, such as losing my cool or trying to micromanage bits where I did not belong. While I dwelled on some issues for too long, I tried to move on and reconnect when I could. I made an effort to make special outings, just me and my nephew. It was always simple; I fed him his favorite foods, took him out thrifting, or did stuff he loves just so he knows I care. After all, it’s not about me.
Will someone remind me of this when my kids become teenagers in a few years? Thanks.
Read the original article on Business Insider
