Mom Walks: Sharing Failure: Mom Walks, #4

By Rebecca Prenevost

Every mom worries about their tween's phone use, right? Probably, but what's the worst thing that could happen?

 

Tweens, phones, and social media can put any mom on edge. And some trouble Dawn got into when she was younger only ratchets up her anxiety as she parents her sixth-grade daughter, Kayli, through it. Dawn holds out as long as she can before letting Kayli get a phone. Then, when she finally allows it, she ensures all the "right" rules are in place. But it hardly matters. Dawn can't prevent Kayli from messing up. And with each additional mistake, Dawn grows increasingly frustrated, which only makes Kayli want to hide her errors more. As their mother-daughter relationship gets put to the test, Dawn must figure out what's really important before the consequences become permanent.

 

Mom Walks: Sharing Failure is the fourth, and final, book in a women's fiction series that follows a mom and her two best mom friends as they navigate the chaotic trenches of parenting tweens. If you enjoy light, heart-warming stories about mother-daughter relationships and friendship, these books are for you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rebecca Prenevost
• Release date: Feb 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9781953582065

Rebecca Prenevost

Never in a million years did Rebecca think she’d be a writer. But she was looking for fiction books that reflected her everyday struggles of parenting tween girls, and she couldn’t find them. She wanted something light, heart-warming, and relatable. So she tried writing one, and she had a blast. If you liked Baby-Sitters Club books when you were younger and enjoyed Gilmore Girls not too long ago, her books could be perfect for you.

Book preview

WEDNESDAY, JAN 6

I’m probably being way too paranoid, but ever since Kayli got that phone for Christmas, my motherly angst has ratcheted up at least ten notches. We were going to wait until she was thirteen. Not eleven. The odds of her screwing up with it at this age feel unbelievably high. And that stupid mistake I made years ago isn’t helping. She’s not ready. I’m not ready.

So when I notice the empty charging station in our mudroom and her backpack on the floor below, it’s like someone else takes control of my hands. My chest pounds as I unzip her bag and feel for the smooth rectangular object. But when I find what I’m looking for inside the back pocket, I swear my heart stops. This has to be a joke. Kayli knows she’s not allowed to bring it to school yet.

With her bus coming in less than ten minutes, I pull out the phone, close my eyes, and silently count to three. I hate when we lock horns right before school. Kayli, hon?

Yes? her sweet, innocent voice calls back from the kitchen. Sounding so overtly coy, she has to be messing with me—I think. There’s no way she’d try to sneak this thing to school. Not when everything else has been going so well for her these last couple of months. She’s been earning solid grades, loves her basketball team, has a fun group of friends, and the two of us have been getting along great. Even the frequency of her eye-rolling has decreased.

For a second, I debate whether it’s better for me to stay in the mudroom. Our discussion could be less contentious if we remain in separate corners. No. I should be able to calmly discuss this with her face-to-face. Besides, I’m not only supposed to be guiding and mentoring her through these middle school years, I should be setting a good example. I shake off the shivers running up my spine and head into the kitchen. Sweetheart, you know you’re not supposed to use this phone outside of family yet. And we haven’t okayed bringing it to school.

I gently set the device down on the island, slightly out of her reach. My jaw tightens as I think back to how I almost spit out my wine when she opened this gift during our annual holiday dinner with Ben’s parents. What normal grandparents think they can give a kid a phone without asking her parents first? Oh, but that’s right, Ben’s parents aren’t normal. They’re the kind of grandparents who fly in once a year, splurge on some crazy-expensive meal, and then jet off to their next exotic destination. But a phone, I mean—

But, Mom… She skillfully brushes aside any sense of wrongdoing as she turns to me with her puppy dog eyes in full force. And her woe-is-me tone ramps up my need for more willpower nearly tenfold. I grab onto the back of the nearby stool as she presents her case. "Everyone I know is allowed to have—and use—their own phone."

That’s not true, I counter, refastening my grip. I may be abnormally apprehensive about this device, but she also doesn’t understand the seriousness of it yet. And although I feel a little bad she’s getting left out of a few chats with her friends, that remorse doesn’t come close to outweighing my concern for the fact that any communication blunder she makes will be documented and potentially shared with God knows who. Lily Wey doesn’t.

Kayli tosses her head back, groaning, Lily Wey? Not fair. She’s never getting a phone.

I let go of the stool, rub her back, and gently add, And neither does Poppy Brooks. I understand how it can feel like all of her classmates have a phone already, but it’s not actually the case. Lily’s mom, Naomi, is one of my closest friends. She’d for sure tell me if she or Poppy’s mom had changed their minds on this.

Kayli covers her face with her hands. Ugh…fine. She slides off her stool and brings her bowl over to the sink. "There are a few kids who don’t have their own phones yet. But all of my friends do, and I’m missing out on everything."

When she turns back to face me, though, the drag in her step and slump in her shoulders signal she’s waving the white flag. My position on phones has been unwaveringly consistent, and Kayli knows it. Even when she opened her grandparents’ present, her wary smile confirmed it: she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep the gift.

But once Ben’s parents asked her to call them from it after we got it set up, the deal was sealed—for Ben, at least. Kayli could keep the phone. The details of what that means, though, are still being hashed out. For the past two weeks, she’s essentially been using it the same way as she used our family cell phone. It stays docked in the mudroom, there aren’t any apps on it other than the ones it came with, and the only phone numbers on it are for me, Ben, and Ben’s mom. Kayli needs permission before adding any others, and bringing it to school is completely off the table. It’s a short leash, but I know whatever slack I give out now will be impossible to retrieve later. And since I’m also setting a parenting precedent for her younger sister, Ryn, I’m proceeding with extreme caution.

I follow Kayli into the mudroom. Honey, I know this is frustrating, but you need to be so careful with how you use this phone. It’s too easy for kids your age to accidentally text or post some flippant comment or hurtful response. You may think you’re being funny or sarcastic, or merely joking, but the other person might not take it that way. And then they snap a screenshot, send it to everyone they know, and it’s out there forever. Let’s see how it goes practicing with family first. But if you start trying to sneak this stuff, it’s never going to work.

I know. She looks back at me, tipping her shoulder up as she smirks. I knew you’d find it. I just wanted to see.

Sure, I half-tease, uncertain how much I believe her.

She returns the phone to the charger, bundles up in her coat, hat, and mittens, and brings her backpack over to the front window. When the yellow roof of her bus peeks over the hill, I open the door, then use it to shield myself from the cold air pouring in. Love you.

Kayli goes through but turns back, mocking, "I’m not calling you if I need anything."

Ha ha. Have a good day. I give her a playful swat and then watch her walk to the bus.

When I head back to the mudroom to layer up for my walk, it feels like I’m preparing for battle. A lot of the kids in her grade do have a phone already, and many of them bring it to school. But although middle school is supposed to be a prime time for parents to let go and allow their kids to learn from mistakes—the gift of failure according to some parenting guru—the consequences of phone-related screwups seem way too permanent.

Man, I made so many mistakes back in my day, and that was without all these devices there to record them all. Kayli and her friends are still learning how to navigate so many precarious peer scenarios face-to-face. Adding phones to the mix of their seemingly inadvertent slipups around secrets, gossip, and excluding—and at an age when they barely have any impulse control—feels like a disaster waiting to happen.

I dig out a hat and mittens, pull on my boots and warmest jacket, and hurry out the door. The walk with my two best friends, Meg and Naomi, couldn’t come at a more perfect time. If anyone will tell me I’m being irrational, it’s the two of them. And their perspectives, which no doubt will cover every angle, are always a good gut check for my thoughts on almost any parenting issue.

After stepping out of my car in the tiny parking lot, I instantly regret not putting on another layer. It’s crazy how I’ve lived in Minnesota my entire life, and I still underestimate how cold it can feel. My breath puffs out in front of me as I double-check my coat is zipped up all the way, pull on my hat, and trudge across the snow to my two friends. Huddled under the tall trees next to the trail that used to be an old railroad track are Meg and Naomi. Their faces are just the warm welcome I need.

It’s only been a few weeks, but it feels like it’s been forever since we’ve done our regular three-mile out-and-back jaunt through our suburban lake community. I can’t wait to get caught up on all the news I’ve missed and, of course, get their insight on what I should do about Kayli’s new phone. Hey, guys!

Hi, Dawn. Naomi’s greeting sounds slightly off as she hugs her olive-green puffy jacket. And although most of her face is covered by either her cream-colored hat or matching scarf, I detect the tiniest of cringes. I heard Kayli got a phone for Christmas. I thought you guys were going to wait a couple more years.

We were. My whole body tenses. Then I cup my mittens over my mouth as we get started on the freshly plowed path. Maybe hampering my breath will provide a calming effect as I figure out how to handle this unexpected hint of underlying judgment. Naomi’s never been a fan of technology, but she’s typically more understanding.

After a few silent strides, I release my hands and recap the holiday dinner with Ben’s parents, defending myself as best I can. I was totally stuck. I couldn’t say no right in front of them. But we’re still not allowing her to really use it. She can’t bring it to school or give out the number to any friends yet.

I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Meg adjusts her hot pink fur-tufted hat. Even in this cold, her bright yellow ski coat is like a ray of sunshine against a mostly white-and-brown backdrop. James and his buddies have been using their phones for over a year, and it’s been fine. The screen time was an adjustment at first. But once the novelty wore off, the boys figured it out. I can’t think of the last time it’s been a problem.

Naomi’s deep sigh tells me she’s not sold, which isn’t a surprise. As with so many issues, Meg and Naomi are usually found on opposite ends. Sometimes I wonder if they’d even be friends if our kids hadn’t been in the same preschool class eight years ago. But that initial connection, plus all our weekly walks during the school year that followed, have been enough to keep us together.

I don’t know… Naomi’s words technically indicate uncertainty, but her tone doesn’t make it sound like there’s a lot of wiggle room. These phones are a gateway to all kinds of trouble. And these kids’ brains aren’t developed enough to always make sound judgments. Her eyes widen as she pauses on the trail. "Yesterday, I heard a girl in their grade was caught sending pictures of her test, trying to give her friends a heads-up—ahem, cheat. And that’s not even the worst kind of picture she could’ve sent, if you know what I mean."

Simply hearing the word cheat creates a snowball in my throat that makes it tough to swallow. This is exactly what I’m afraid of. Screen time, I can handle. But bigger mistakes—actions or comments that create more of a permanent record—can damage reputations or relationships and be impossible to repair. And it’s not like it’s on purpose. These kids are just incapable of anticipating long-term consequences.

Meg’s ski coat swishes louder. "I’d kill James if he did that. Parents have to set the right restrictions. I had James sign a phone contract. She tips up her chin, looking oh-so-pleased with herself. Then she raises her glove, holding out a finger as if it will emphasize her remark. And remember, there are benefits: the connections with their friends, the convenience of getting a hold of them, and the tracking app. I love that app."

A contract’s a given. Naomi tightens her scarf, then walks in lockstep with Meg over my favorite old wooden bridge that spans the two main bays of the lake. When families decide to give their kids a phone, they absolutely need to create one of those.

The frigid air sweeping across the lake makes my eyes water, blurring the houses and trees surrounding the vast sheets of ice. But my mind feels much clearer. Even with a phone contract, the stakes still seem too high for now. All it takes is one text, something Kayli thinks is in good fun, but someone interprets it the wrong way. Or something she thinks no one else will see, but then they do. And there’s evidence. And it’s shared. No, thanks.

When we reach the other side of the bridge, I grab a tissue from my pocket and wipe my nose. Got it. When we’re ready, we’ll need a phone contract. So, what else has been going on with you guys?

Meg radiates, adding a skip to her step, eager as always for an opportunity to share. Well, things are definitely picking up in terms of getting the fourth-grade science fair organized. She pauses as she looks over, giggling through her covered mouth as my jaw drops. With her eyes still twinkling, she teases, Oh? Did I forget to mention I’m helping with that?

I tuck in my lips and shake my head as the snowball in my throat melts away. Of course. Volunteering is pretty much a constant with Meg. And by now, she has to know we’ll give her crap for it. I sarcastically rib back, No, I don’t think you mentioned that.

Yeah, that’s so unexpected. Naomi joins in the friendly banter. I forgot you like to volunteer.

Very funny. Meg grins. But you’ll be delighted to know I won’t be asking you for any assistance with this one. All the volunteers need to be parents of fourth graders.

As long as it doesn’t involve me, do all the volunteering you want. I happily exhale, thinking back to how many times Meg has roped Naomi and me into her volunteering endeavors. The fundraiser one this past fall was a real doozy for me, too. Getting stuck doing a bunch of superfluous tasks that took up all my time—I don’t need to be jumping into that pool again anytime soon.

Meg playfully elbows me. Aw, really? With all your free time now, I thought you’d be dying to help.

Oh, yeah. Naomi eagerly looks over, clutching her mittens against her chest. Have you decided what you’re going to do now?

The cold air lodges in my throat again as we hit our usual turnaround mark. And the volume of our footsteps seems to increase as we head back toward our cars. Although it feels like I quit my job yesterday, it’s actually been over two months. As I tuck my mittens further into my coat, I convince myself that my lack of progress is mostly due to the holidays. Now that the girls are back in school, I can concentrate on it more. There are a couple of openings I’m qualified for, but I don’t know. I’m not that excited about them.

What types of positions are you looking for? Naomi asks.

The trail narrows as I recall my checklist. If I could design the ideal job, it’d be part-time, work from home, and one with flexible hours. But I’d also love to find something where I can be more creative and challenged—learn something new. Saying my wish list out loud, though, only makes it seem more daunting. And that’s without including the criteria I’m most self-conscious about. But finding an opening like that—one I’m qualified for—is like finding a needle in a haystack.

I hear you, Meg sighs. There are so many talented, educated, and experienced moms who don’t want the commitment of a full-time position. You’d think by now companies would have more positions like that. Hey, maybe that could be your new gig: create a company that finds jobs for those moms.

Yeah, maybe. I do my best to sound diplomatic since I know Meg’s only trying to help. But I’d rather get the spotlight off my job search. How about you, Nay? Is teaching yoga still going okay? How are things with your kids?

Yoga’s wonderful. It’s like Naomi’s whole demeanor shifts into Zen mode. With her shoulders back and chin up, all she’s missing is her hands at heart center. You should start coming again, now that everyone’s back in school. And Lily’s good. She’s still doing voice lessons once a week. And rehearsals for her new theater group started last night.

That’s right! Meg perks up again. This is the one out of Cantondale, isn’t it?

Mm-hmm. Naomi’s arms sway in a perfect flow. It’s a bit of a drive, but it should be worth it. The program pulls from kids all over the metro, and the theater director and staff are top-notch. Auditions for the musical were intense, but now that Lily has a spot, she’s in absolute heaven. And I love that it has nothing to do with screens.

That’s so great, I reply. Lily worked so hard this past fall to improve her singing voice. She’s going to do awesome. And how fun that she’s going to be meeting all these new uber-talented kids who love performing as much as she does.

Yeah… Naomi takes a deep breath. Now, if things were only going as smoothly with Leo.

Leo? I verify. What could possibly be going wrong with a second-grade boy? That age is usually so simple.

Oh, you guys… Naomi’s head falls back as her pace slows. I don’t know how I let this happen. But Bruce—we—let Leo buy one of those PX95 whatever gaming console things over Christmas break, and I’m so regretting it.

No, you didn’t! Meg gasps.

I know, I know, Naomi says, briefly covering her eyes before regaining her poise. Obviously, Leo loves his STEM Club projects and has been having so much fun with his little website business, so he certainly has a knack for, and interest in, coding and technology. And then both the kids got a bunch of Christmas money…

Wow. Meg doesn’t hide her shock. That’s huge.

As I struggle to find to right words, Naomi moves her mittens to her temples, then explains, Several of Leo’s buddies are into it, so he’s been begging for a while. And then Bruce somehow convinced me that this gaming thing could be good. He used to love playing video games when he was younger. He argued some of the games are helpful in teaching strategy and problem-solving and thought it’d be something fun he and Leo could do together. And we’re not allowing him to play any of the violent ones.

We approach our cars, and I finally get my mouth to function. I’m sure you’ll keep him on the right track. You’re always so good at setting healthy limits. If anyone can handle this, Nay, it’s you.

Thanks. Naomi stretches her arms above her head and twists her torso. I’m so nervous it’s going to get out of control. I’m really trying to stay on top of it. Which reminds me, Jane Brooks and I are starting this podcast group. It’s kind of like a book club, but instead of reading books, we pick a couple of podcast episodes to listen to and discuss. We’re going to select topics that’ll help us parent with more intention. Do you guys want to join us?

Sounds exactly like what I need. It feels like I’ve been handed a golden ticket. If you show me how to listen to a podcast, I’m in.

I have to pass. Meg sounds only somewhat disappointed. My schedule’s pretty tight already, and Kevin gets irritated when I take on too much. But I agree with Dawn about Leo. If you set some ground rules, he’ll be fine. Then she turns to me. And when you’re ready, Kayli will be fine with her phone too. You both worry way too much.

Oh gosh, I hope you’re right, I stammer as her words pull me back to Kayli’s phone situation. And my unease lingers as we say goodbye and retreat to the shelter of our cars.

Holding my hands in front of the vent while my car warms up, I watch Meg back out of the parking lot, then Naomi slowly follows. Maybe I am worrying too much. I mean, Kayli will have to use her phone at some point, right? But then again, there are so many potential downsides: posting something inappropriate or texting a contentious message, not to mention the resulting fallout if it’s shared. It seems like such a no-brainer when I can prevent so much of that by waiting.

SUNDAY, JAN 10

As I make my way up the gymnasium bleachers, Kayli drops her basketball bag next to the row of players’ chairs. Then she runs across the gym to get in line behind her good friends, Danielle and Tori, the two best players on her team. I take the open spot next to their moms, Brenda and Leah, and prepare myself for their usual pregame analysis.

Before my coat is even off, Brenda’s already nudging me. In her typical navy-blue blazer and silk shell, she continues to sport a professional wardrobe even in these smelly gyms. Gesturing over to the other team, she lowers her voice. "It’s hard to believe