This column marks one year of my writing for the St. Louis Jewish Light. It has yet to take my suggestion for a new slogan: Jewish “Light,” one-third less guilt. Maybe this year, the editors will come around.

Of the 13 columns I wrote last year (13, because one month I persuaded them to let me run two), most dealt with COVID, several mentioned politics, a couple were about the state of race relations. I’m soooo done.  

For my first column of the year, I had decided not to write about those topics. Enough already. So. Now. What?

Crickets.

It’s as if nothing else is circulating in my thoughts. Maybe a house project. Want to hear about it? Me neither.

Let’s discuss something I’m relatively new at. Parenting. I’ve been at it for only 15 years. I’m kind of still a newbie. All the stages children go through are like uncharted territory. Actually, I thought it was “unchartered territory” until recently. Nevertheless, I’m learning as I go. 

I tested my hand at it years earlier with my nephews, teaching them songs one might sing at sleepaway camp when adults aren’t around. This backfired when I had kids, and my sister plotted her revenge, doing things like telling my boys to take potato chips, eat them in my bed and be sure to chew with their mouths open.  Greasy crumb city. (I’d book a trip to Greasy Crumb City right now if I could, that’s how desperate I am right now to travel. Oops, COVID-related. Sorry.)

If you ever need to be reminded that you are not cool, be the parent of a teenager. You can borrow mine anytime if you need an opinionated backup teen. You can tell them stories of your “cool” days. You can even make up stories. Doesn’t matter. It’s not going to work.  

Remember the line in the movie “Mean Girls,” when Regina George’s mom declared, “I’m not a regular mom, I’m a cool mom”? I’m guessing if you have to announce it, then it probably isn’t true. 

Calling them “teens” brings a hearty cringe to my sons’ gorgeous faces. Embracing my uncoolness, I like to walk up to the kids when they’re with friends and say, “Hello teens!” It sounds so awkward, so hilarious. Try it yourself. Say it out loud. “Hello teens!” Nerd alert. 

I’ve given up the traditional route of making my kids think I am  even remotely cool. Instead, I go with the most influential source in their lives: their friends.  

Both of my sons have terrific friends. There’s hardly a disrespectful twerp among them. You’ve got to know your audience. Luckily, I speak teenage boy, honing my craft during years of carpool driving. I know when something is lit and something is trash. I know when to call cap and when to call facts. Our carpool squads are always straight fire. Bet. 

If only I’d mastered the language of teenage boy when I was a teenage girl, I would have been golden. I mean, legit. 

I sealed my fate as a grade school mom when the boys and some of their friends went bowling. As they finished, I was asking them to clean up the lane and yelled, “Everyone grab your own balls!” One kid said, “Your mom is awesome!”  My older son wasn’t so sure about that. I saw him roll his eyes. I didn’t even know eyes could roll that far back into one’s sockets. 

I’m not always this extra. After a game, I’ll stand off to the side or wait in the car, to give them privacy and time to chit-chat with their buddies. I don’t want to be in on their gross conversations, anyway. I even kept my mouth shut the time I heard one of their friends say, “I’m going to draw the butts of everyone in our class, and you guess whose it is.” 

I am too cool. 

I was able to create a teachable moment during “Wheel of Fortune.” When the final puzzle was “wrapping a package,” I used it as a teachable moment to talk about safe sex. My kids said, “Have you ever considered the possibility that you are too open?”  

Why no. I did not. Now go get something pierced. 

When we’ve had a fully free day with no sports, no commitments and nowhere we have to be, we take turns choosing a fun activity. On one of my days to choose, I selected seeing “La La Land” at the movies. The boys said it was the worst day of their lives. I turned it into a positive, using it now as a threat of punishment, as in, “If you touch your brother one more time, I’m making you watch ‘La La Land.’ ”  Have you seen “La La Land”? I loved it. 

Like many of you, we don’t allow cell phones at the dinner table. One son brought his and kept it in his lap because he was midconversation with a friend. He thought he was slick. I’m slicker. I texted that friend the following:

“Can you do me a favor? Text my son: ‘I bet your mom is the best cook. You shouldn’t text during family dinner. I read a study that said teens who text during family dinner get less playing time in sports because their coaches can sense they’ve disrespected their parents.’ ”

The friend texted back, “Of course. You’re the funniest, Mrs. Brown.” 

This was the same friend who had never had a Twinkie before he started coming over to our house. I’ve got that kid wrapped around my little finger thanks to some high fructose corn syrup and preservatives. 

I just want my kids to know I’m approachable, and no topic is off limits. I don’t want them to be embarrassed or ashamed to ask questions about subjects that are touchy, or about touching.  I want them to feel free to openly discuss anything, so as not to get incorrect information from Google, or other kids. 

I’d love to hear from you about your own saucy tips for keeping open communication with your teens. Hello, teens.

Is my method working? I have no idea. Both boys proofread this column and laughed. I’m not sure whether they were laughing with me or at me. Or near me.  

And yesterday, when I dropped off my 15-year-old son at school, he didn’t hesitate to say, “Bye, I love you,” with other kids around.  

I definitely consider those Mom wins!