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Sometimes I’m very glad that my memories of my own teenage years are so vivid. I can sincerely empathize with the pain and the emotional stress that they go through. I recall the anxiety of trying to keep my grades up while trying to also develop some sort of social life. I remember the wounds left behind when trying my best to find a place I fit in. I remember the broken hearts and the failed dreams. So as my kids go through the same things, I can honestly tell them I understand, and try to council in whatever way I feel may help. Even if it just requires listening with understanding.

Unfortunately…I also remember how I hated my Dad.

Not all the time. At least not in high school. By that time I had gotten over the puberty filled irrational angst. But in high school? Any time he said, “No” – I hated him. In that moment, I truly hated him. I wished I belonged to other families, had other parents. I wished that maybe I lived in the home of my friends whose parents cared less about grades and understood more about my need for a social life. True Anger. Real Hate.

I know I felt those things because since Dad died? I’ve offered up quite a bit of guilt over those wasted moments.

But I know something as a Mom I didn’t understand as a teenager. There are things we just have to say, “No” to. Whether it’s because we pre-determined qualifications: You can do X if you do Y. If Y doesn’t get done? You have to say no to X or none of our threats will ever be respected again. Other times we say No because we’ve set previous restrictions. Usually along the lines of, You are too young to do X – you can’t do it until you are age Y. It doesn’t stop kids from asking, it didn’t stop me.

Whatever the reason…every time I say No…I feel like shit. I know as I’m saying it that I have to – for whatever reason. But I also see the pain in my child’s eyes, the disappointment, the anger. And I know the hate. And it sucks.

Maybe it should give me solace knowing that some day my kids will look back and understand why I had to say, “No.” Or at least I hope they do. It doesn’t hurt any less knowing that they’ll get over it soon. I was usually over it by the next day. It doesn’t help knowing that they still love me, deep down inside. Because that look on their face? The disappointment? Stabs deeper than that.

This makes me completely understand the parents who Never Say No. Every time I see that hurt in their eyes? I consider becoming one of those parents. I know the professionals all say we HAVE TO SAY NO. We MUST BE THEIR PARENTS, not their friends. SAYING NO IS GOOD. It’s ingrained in my head to help ease the anxiety when I do have to say No.

But…I knew kids in high school who had those parents and they all turned out fine…I think. Why do I say No? Why can’t I say Yes? What am I causing my child this pain again? I can’t remember.

There are no answers. And sometimes? I’ll be honest. I cave. I change my No to a Yes. Either because I reanalyze the situation and decided it’s not a big deal, or because I just can’t take the look of disappointment. I essentially say Yes to the puppy dog eyes. I’m not afraid to admit that. Does it make me a bad parent? No. Will I regret those times? Hopefully not. Will I say No again? Most definitely.

And it will hurt. Both of us.