I have been struggling to find a happy place for my relationship with McKenzie. A friend asked me the other day at dinner, “So, what’s the problem?” And I was at a complete loss to explain the cause of our friction. I just didn’t get it. MK’s the best kind of teenager to have. I never worry about her getting into trouble, I don’t worry about her choice of friends or even her grades. She has a hard time coming home on time and checking in, and she doesn’t do her chores until begged, but that’s kids stuff. One night last week I sat down in her room and said, “Kenz, I really want to have a good relationship. What’s going on?” She began listing complaints. I tried to really listen. She said stuff like, “You are like Master vs. Servant. There’s a big distinction between parent and child. And you’re just like Mia…” I couldn't understand what she was saying. I tried to explain that she has only one mom, and I’m it. I don’t want to let her down. If I’m her buddy now, later she’ll say, "Why didn’t you set boundaries? Why didn’t you tell me?… You were the parent, you knew better…." (So I’m defending my position, right?) She explained more, “You’re always right. You always win.” And then it hit me. Somewhere out of the blue, I remembered an episode with my dad.
My dad and I had a rough experience in my teen years. I loved him, I respected him, and I admired him. And I was "a good kid." But we did argue. A lot. And I could never quite explain why. Not then and not until maybe a few days ago.
So, back to the episode. My dad and I and Wes Arbon, a co-worker, were carpooling back from work one summer, and my dad starts saying to Wes, “You know, I was thinking about teenagers today and how they haven’t gone through nearly the stuff we went through as teenagers. I mean, we faced Vietnam and the Korean War, the real threat of nuclear warfare, the emergence of 'free love' and drug cultures….” He kept looking in the rearview mirror at me and saying, “Right, Lorenne?" and, "What do you think about that, Lorenne?” The message to me was loud and clear: “Our generation had substance. Your generation is pathetic in comparison.” I was furious, and my silence was deafening. Wes must have felt pretty awkward.
I’m sure my dad never intended the “take home” thought to be that I and my peers were nothing but weak imitations of a far worthier older generation, but in my mind, he could not have been more deprecating.
Master vs. Servant.
I remember craving validation from my dad. Whenever I went to him with a problem, he handed me the solution so matter-of-factly that I felt like such an idiot for not figuring it out on my own. He would downplay or laugh off the drama in my life, which as a parent, I totally get. But at the time, I needed to feel like my thoughts and feelings were on par with someone respectable and intelligent. I didn’t feel like he took me seriously. And that’s where my pride reared its ferocious head.
So, now it all comes together. My dad was also a right-fighter. Meaning, he would never back down from an argument when he felt he was right. And he was always right. (He actually was [almost] always right.) Of course, I have long been a right-fighter and have felt it is my duty to set my children straight, whether or not it came across as condescending. When there’s a power struggle, I win. But I could stand to avoid power struggles in the first place (duh!)
You should see the lightbulb shining over my head.
Take-home message to self: Listen. To. Her. Hear what she is saying. Validate her. Validate. Her. Then tell her my OPINION (not fact). Let her decide. She’s smart. Trust the goodness in her. It’s not my job to compel her to know what I know. Educate her, but don’t force it down her throat. Guide. Counsel. Then, if I begin to argue, DON’T.
P.S. I still don’t get the comment about being just like Mia….
Traditional talent show. The girls danced in the kitchen and then lip-sync'd "Santa, Baby."
The boys took it up a notch and added tricks, flips, and the worm into their dance, while Cam tried to think of something "easier to do" than sing for us. 
Elle spun around on her stomach and then sang, "This is America, A-mer-ic-a. This is America, A-mer-i-ca," over and over.... 
No Christmas Eve by candlelight this year. Instead, we had soup and rolls and birthday cakes at Aunt Megan's with the Briner side.
Nighty-night! See you Christmas morning!
7:00 a.m. (Are we lucky or what?) Before things got crazy Christmas morning, we watched a segment of, "Joy to the World: The First Christmas,"
We all watched "Luke II" at Grandma's, per tradition, before wrapping paper started flying.
The Booty.
Mia and friends kidnap Taters for breakfast on her birthday.
Christmas Decor: got this idea from Liz and her fabulous Christmas House: hang ornaments (and some ribbon) on a chandelier (of course, she also added beautiful garland, candy-canes, ...) 
