For The California Sunday Magazine‘s “Teens Issue,” Elizabeth Weil wrote about her experience raising a teenage daughter. The piece is annotated by her own 15-year-old daughter, Hannah Duane.
Weil’s piece is poignant, heartfelt, and self-effacing. Duane’s annotations are, in a word, perfect. I say this as someone who was a teenage daughter, and who still is a little bit a teenage girl. (Maybe we are all still a little bit teenage girls, until we have to raise ones of our own? Or maybe forever? I don’t know; I haven’t yet faced the challenge.)
When Weil writes that her husband threw out his back while climbing, “pissing off” Duane, Duane’s strident annotation clarifies:
I was not pissed off. I’ve told my parents this multiple times. Nobody in my family can understand that I can be disappointed but not mad at a particular person. I was in a shitty mood. I have my own thoughts, OK?
PREACH, HANNAH. Grown women on Twitter announced they needed that quote blown up and framed on their walls. We have our own thoughts, OK?
Duane’s annotations made me laugh out loud and gasp in recognition. She annotates her mother’s praise of her climbing to point out that she actually hadn’t succeeded at a specific move she was trying. “It is a weird experience to have your parents praise you for something you believe you failed at,” she writes, pointing out that it “feels like you aren’t being listened to, or maybe you’re not explaining yourself well.”
She thanks her mother for not letting her run into traffic as a toddler, but later responds to her mother’s concern about being able to protect her with, “Parents underestimate kids’ ability to figure out what is right for them.”
My absolute favorite, though, is when Weil writes about the way teens revert to certain toddler behaviors, taking appalling risks and “throwing tantrums at horrible times.” Duane annotates:
I would like to make a defense of teen tantrums. They may be a little much to deal with, but after it’s over, I find that having had a freakout when you least want to can be liberating. You did the thing you dearly wished you would not do, and you lived. There’s comfort in having it out there.