Want your teens to become perfect little angels who never argue and do everything you tell them to do? Yes? Then don’t have children.
But. The contract below will get you closer to that lack of reality.
With just one week left until school starts, we will begin the mad dash of getting the paperwork filled out, school supplies and clothes purchased, wrangling the kids back into a decent bedtime and MOST IMPORTANT OF ALL, the Back to School Contract.
Hear angels singing? You won’t. It isn’t that great, but it’s REALLY REALLY good. If you don’t have a BTS Contract or as we like to refer to it, a Zip It Contract, you are in for a treat. The sole purpose of the contract is to say ZIP IT to your sanity sucking teens when they start to get feisty.
For example, they might say, “I can’t believe we have to go to bed, it’s only 10:00.”
You will point to the contract hanging on your family board, take a slow sip of my wine, turn to your teen and with a June Cleaver smile say, “Remember sweetie, you signed the contract.” In other words? “Zip it.”
If you DIDN’T have the contract, the conversation would have gone like this, “I can’t believe we have to go to bed, it’s only 10:00.”
You would begin with, “It is a school night and you need to get sleep to be smart and grow.”
They would say, “But why? All my friends stay up until 11:30 and they are ALL smart and tall?”
Then something so awful, so disgustingly your mother, would come flying out of your mouth, “IF ALL YOUR FRIENDS JUMPED OFF A BRIDGE”…you get the point. *shivers*
Thirty minutes later you would still be arguing and the whole thing would end with an eye roll, some comment about what an uncool mom you are and your teen slamming their bedroom door in your face.
*downs the rest of her wine*
Instead? Zip it.
Below is a copy of our Back to School Contract:
We all sign the agreement and while it doesn’t alleviate every argument and certainly doesn’t even slightly curb the eye rolls, it gets rid of most disagreements and shortens the others.
A quick reminder that my smiling face is all they will see all weekend and let’s just say they empty that dishwasher with an enthusiasm that rivals a kindergarten room mom.
Instead of getting annoyed with my teens’ eye rolls, I play a game in my head. I used to be a champion eye roller when I was a teen. So? I grade their eye rolls. One being the worst and ten being the best. Bonus points if they fling their head back at the same time. Sometimes I shout it out to them, “Nice. That was totally a nine,” and other times I keep it to myself. Either way? It makes me laugh instead of scream. You’re welcome.