“Children become irresponsible only when we fail to give them opportunities to take on responsibility.”                                                                                                                                                                     -Margaret Goldman

Teenagers, I believe, are God’s punishment for everything we’ve done wrong in this life or in any prior life we might have lived. Especially, my two teenagers who had quit high school, refused to get a job, and slept until noon. I could hardly walk into their rooms because of the smell of rotting food, left-over pizza and dirty clothes thrown over every horizontal surface. I wondered how they could sleep in such odorous filth.

This was in 1987,  and we lived in Silicon Valley at the end of a cul-de-sac in Cupertino, one of the best school districts in California.

“Why?” I asked time and time again. “Why won’t you go back to school?”

“It’s boring,” my son said.

“There are too many Chinese kids in class and trying to compete with them is impossible,” my daughter chimed in.

I spoke with their principal, asking him to take them back, but he refused. “They just don’t show up and won’t do their assignments,” he explained, “not to mention how disrespectful they are to me and their teachers.” Clearly, he was passing the problem on to me.

I had been a single parent since Shoni and Tory were six months and 19 months old. I left their father with the house and the furniture. I took the kids and the bills and his last name and felt like I got the better end of the deal. One less kid to take care of.

Aged 16 and 17 years old, neither one smoked or drank, although based on some of her strange behavior (like sitting in a tree and meditating),  I wondered if Shoni had occasionally used drugs. She had recently announced that she was gay. Her major mood swings were later diagnosed as a bipolar disorder. Tory seemed sullen, perhaps with minor depression. Even growing up without a father in their lives, and all the moving we did, we had still been a close-knit family. I couldn’t understand why they were struggling so badly. Did they hate me? Where were Google and YouTube when I needed help?

Since my divorce, I had worked for Hewlett-Packard, starting as a secretary and climbing up the corporate ladder through a series of IT and marketing management jobs in California, Washington, Idaho and Germany. When my kids decided to revolt, I had just left HP to start my own consulting company, working from home. I had no business plan, no clients and enough money to last us for only six months. Not very smart.

In addition, I had two rebellious teenagers who would scream at each other and blast their music as I was trying to attract new clients on the phone. The situation became untenable. I forced them to get their GEDs (General Education Diplomas). They both did well on their tests, even though they had missed one and two years of high school, respectively. I explained, in no uncertain terms, that they would not be able to continue with any educational programs or get any jobs without a GED. 

I also told them that unless they returned to school, they would need jobs because there would be no more allowances. That didn’t work. Then I flashed back to a Tough Love class I had attended a year earlier. I tried to explain our financial situation, and told them that unless I could get this new company off the ground, I might become a bag lady. I needed their cooperation. That didn’t work. Then I stopped cooking and doing laundry. Finally, I stopped buying their favorite foods and drinks. That didn’t work. Of course, I had soup, salad and sandwich fixings on hand, along with water. They wouldn’t starve.

I had never been so scared before. Although I’d made many risky decisions in my career, taking on jobs I had no experience in or which had never existed before, I’d always had HP behind me. If I failed, I could find a different opportunity within the company. This time, I had no backup. And, on top of that, I felt like a failure as a mother.

I had recently read Barbara Sher’s book, Wishcraft. I hoped her advice would help me deal successfully with both my new business and my dysfunctional family. One of the exercises she suggested we do was describe our perfect day without real or perceived limitations. Then she asked us to pick one small aspect of our perfect day and take one step towards that part of our dream. I pictured myself living by the water.

I began looking at property for sale in the east bay area and found a condo in Alameda looking over an estuary overflowing with sailboats. It was a 1-1/2 hour commute. I made an offer on a two-bedroom condo, contingent on the sale of my home. I listed my home and put a “For Sale” sign in the front yard.

The kids said, “Two bedrooms? That’s not enough room for us.”

“You’re right.”

“What will we do? Where will we live?”

“I don’t know. It’s not my problem anymore.” My head throbbed and my stomach felt like it might be full of worms. Nothing else had worked. “You have one month to figure it out.”

During that time, both my children found jobs at a local pizza parlor. They moved into friends’ homes. They figured it out.

As my six months’ deadline was nearing, I reduced my mortgage payment, negotiated my first big contract with Tandem Computers and brought on two partners to help me with the project.

Tory got a job selling high-end car radios, found a cute little red-headed girlfriend and shared an apartment with a couple of his friends. Shoni twice asked me for and received money to complete courses, both of which she quit. Finally, she asked for $14,000 to complete a two-year course in computer animation. I said, “No. I don't have that money to give you right now. You’ll have to take out a student loan. IF and when you complete the course, then I’ll pay off the loan for you.”

Fast forward three years. Shoni finished her two-year course with excellent grades. She got a good job and I paid her loan. I had taken a job in Santa Cruz as Vice President of software support and training for their Unix operating system and was able to include Tory in one of the training classes.

Today, both kids are happily married with one son each. They both work in IT, earning six-figure incomes. Over the years, they have actually thanked me for forcing them to take responsibility for their lives. I thank Tough Love and Barbara Sher for showing me the way and giving me the shove I needed to help my children create lives they love.