Hi! I'm Lindsay Ferrier. You might remember me from a blog called Suburban Turmoil. Well, a lot has changed since I started that blog in 2005. My kids grew up, I got a divorce, and I finally left the suburbs for the heart of Nashville, where I feel like I truly belong. I have no idea what the future will hold and you know what? I'm okay with that. Thrilled, actually. It was time for something totally different.
September 20, 2007
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I’ve been very excited by the medical discovery that the human brain’s frontal lobe doesn’t fully develop until around the age of 25. The frontal lobe, as it turns out, is responsible for decision-making and the deciphering of long-range consequences (I’m writing all this from memory, by the way, so I could completely be pulling this out of my ass, but let’s just assume it’s legit for the purposes of this post). Anyway, as I understand it, this frontal lobe deal is believed to be responsible for teenagers’ “poor decision making skills.” And you’d better believe I’m going to milk this medical discovery for all it’s worth.
“So basically, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” I concluded when telling the girls about their frontal lobes the other day. “And that’s why I’m going to have to insist that you let me make your decisions for you, at least on the important stuff, like when it’s time to clean your room, and whether blue eyeshadow and a mini skirt are good fashion choices for church. Oh and you also need to consult me during those times when you’re at the store and you can’t decide between the Arctic Monkeys CD and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs CD. Got it?”
My 16-year-old thought for a moment. “So what this really means,” she said, “is that if I do something stupid when I’m out with my friends, I’m not really responsible. It’s my frontal lobe.”
“No, no, no, that’s not what it means at all,” I said crankily. “It means that when you look at me like I have black pus oozing out of my ears because I’ve told you that it’s high time you learned how to clean your own toilet, well it means that I’m right and you’re wrong and it’s time for you to clean that toilet. That’s what it means,” I said, speaking slowly so that her undeveloped lobe could process the information.
“Right,” my 14-year-old agreed. “And if we stay out too late on a Friday night, then it’s not our faults because we can’t help it if our frontal lobes aren’t fully developed.”
“Wrong!” I yelped. “Because I forgot to tell you that the article I read said that frontal lobes, even undeveloped ones, can process simple phrases like, ‘SO GROUNDED’ and ‘DUDE, NO IPOD FOR A WEEK.'”
“Okay, then I think we’re going to head out to the mall now so that we can charge up a bunch of flimsy Wet Seal outfits on my emergency credit card,” 16 said airily. “I think this frontal lobe thing is going to work well for all of us.”
I clenched my fists at my sides as they laughed merrily and left the room. Grr. Undeveloped frontal lobes are so annoying!
This post originally appeared on Parents.com.
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