The Big Ears Solution

When my daughter was a baby she needed me to do it all: Make breakfast and mud pies, schedule doctor visits and play dates, and manifest a myriad of activities that were both interesting and safe. Then she learned to ask for what she wanted: Can I go to Chelsea's? Will you bake cookies? Find my blue bear? Watch me dance? Kiss my owie? I was the Happy Fulfiller of her wants and needs. I loved this job. It fit in my soul and made me happy—and even allowed me time for a "money job" on the side.

Then one day when she was around thirteen, I GOT FIRED. Just fired from my Mommy job. Oh, not in those words, but dismissal was extremely clear. "Mom! Don't tell me what to do!" "You can't make me!" "You don’t understand me!" Well, hell. What was I suppose to do now? I refused to reenact my mother's role during my own hair-raising adolescence. I would not be the enemy—it left too many scars. Without a role model, I turned to the facts: I loved my daughter, and I believed in her innate honesty, integrity and intelligence. She was going through massive changes, and my parenting style wasn’t working anymore.

After much reading and talking with my husband, mother, sister and dog, I had a new goal. I wanted to be rehired as Trusted Advisor for this emerging creature that was my rosy-cheeked sweet pea just yesterday. In response, I became a head with a gigantic pair of ears that listened and nodded, listened and nodded, without comment... no really! I kept my mouth glued shut until the silence came. And it always did. Then, I would utter a very sincere, "That sounds really hard for you. Let's see if we can figure it out together." Or something similar—and bing-bang-BOOM! I got the job! No resume required. No background check. No drug testing.

Here’s how it worked: If her mood was black, I would throw my agenda of homework, shopping or chores out the window. Ensconced on my bed, doors closed against the world, (and the cats) the stage was set for a heart-to-heart. A few mild questions would often elicit tears, followed by a Big Ears session. We did not emerge until the dilemma was wrestled, pinned, and called by its name. Sometimes we made a follow-up plan, other times it wasn't that big of a deal. I made some missteps, yet learned quickly as all Mother/Advisors must. Unsaid rules included: No smiling or laughing, no half-listening, and no opinions before the silence. The listening part gave me plenty of time to think of what I wanted to say, and how to phrase it so that it could be heard in a non-critical way.

By putting my daughter’s everyday issues under a magnifying glass together, I began to appreciate this sensitive, blooming person who shared my house, and she began to see that I could still be there for her. Watching my daughter gain confidence in her own judgment, make informed decisions, and stand up for her beliefs was a privilege. Right before my eyes (and those big listening ears) she grew from a confused tween to a thoughtful young woman. In retrospect, I know that I was actually getting ready to say goodbye, and I desperately wanted those transition years to be rewarding, love-filled years. They were.