Truth Is

When my daughter was a toddler, a colleague of mine — with no rug rats of his own — liked to spoil her. He helped me pick out souvenirs on business trips. He made her extraordinary custom birthday party invitations. He returned from Disney World with the pinkest, frilliest, sparkliest princess hat he could find. 

He clearly loved kids, so one day I suggested he and his partner think about having some of their own.

"Oh no," he objected. "That would be way too hard."

I tried to reassure him and he eventually shrugged and said, "Well, I guess the most important thing would just be honesty. Never lie to them. Always tell the truth."

There was another parent in the room with us at the time, and he and I both choked.

"Are you kidding?" I managed to say.

"I lie to my kids all the time," our colleague added.

The childless friend was surprised and we quickly filled him in. On top of the tallest tales: Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, there were countless smaller stretchings of the truth every day. Sometimes for the child's own good. More often, to preserve the parent's sanity.

"Sorry honey, we're all out of Oreos."

Now that my daughter is a teenager, it's harder to avoid the truth. Tell her there are no Cheese Puffs left and she'll go and look for herself. Try to keep a private conversation with her father private and prepare to face a raised eyebrow at best, followed by unrelenting nagging until you give in and 'fess up. Somehow, between the ages of five and fifteen, my daughter has developed a finely tuned bullsh*t meter. She knows when I'm trying to cover something up and she will not rest until the truth comes out.

She's not alone. Teens these days don't want a whitewashed version of the world around them. They want truth, T-R-U-T-H. Their favorite musician just went into rehab? No problem. They not only want the juicy details, but the star's flaws make them more alluring. It isn't so much that teen fans want to emulate their idols' bad behavior either. It's more about being "real."

On Facebook, they leaves posts on each other's walls that start with the words: "Truth is ..." Then they add some private joke or personal message. It could be funny or sweet or silly. The point is, it's "truth." 

The same principle holds for YouTube videos. My generation may watch reality shows on TV. (Truth is ... I've been known to pour a glass of pinot and cringe along with The Real Housewives of New York. For the record, as a native New Yorker I can assure you that there is nothing "real" about them.) But, my daughter's friends would rather watch homemade videos of less-than-beautiful people telling it as they see it. Anything too slick, too scripted, too produced and they tune out. Truth is, it's not truth.

I find it interesting that my daughter is reaching (if not already at) an age when lying becomes more and more of an issue. I was an extremely "good girl" when I was her age, but I was still an accomplished liar. (Thankfully, my own adolescent untruths were not about sex or drugs or alcohol — they were mainly about fabricated sleepovers in order to see midnight showings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.) 

There's a certain amount of vigilance that comes with parenting a teen. High school started just three weeks ago and I've already heard tales of students feigning illness in order to "ditch." I am trying to give my daughter the benefit of the doubt, but there's a part of me waiting to catch her. When (not if) I do, I'm hoping it is something relatively harmless. A mild act of filial rebellion, not a major felony.

Just as I want honesty from her, she wants to know the truth about me too. I tend to be a perfectionist, and it's hard to face up to my own weaknesses. Then again, my daughter is very quick to find my flaws. I might as well admit when I'm wrong or just don't know the answers.

Truth is ... she'll find reasons to roll her eyes anyway. I might as well keep it "real."

The Lying Game

"Honesty is the best policy."

"The truth shall set us free."

"Whoever is careless with the truth in small matters cannot be trusted with important matters."

There are countless adages. There are also countless ways a tween can display her disdain about those adages. Rolled eyes, heavy sighs, shoulder shrugs, or simply a blank stare. In the court of tween, there are far worse crimes than perjury.

We were very fortunate when my daughter was younger. Whether it was superior parenting on my part (a lovely but unlikely thought) or a fabulous family daycare provider or terrific teachers or genetics or pure dumb luck, she was a cheerful and compliant child. And, in truth, she is still fairly easy. We haven't had to worry about the big three yet: drugs, alcohol, sex.

But, my daughter's no saint either. I can't put my finger on any specific falsehoods, per se, but we've certainly seen our share of lies of omission. "I forgot to tell you ..." she'll say. Or, "Oh, I didn't remember that rule." Or, "It slipped my mind." Or, "I lost track of time."

There's a new sneakiness that we have to keep an eye on. It's tempting to crack down and try to seize complete control. But, totalitarian regimes rarely last. "Because I said so," lost its power long ago. And, in all honesty, I run out of steam trying to police her long before she runs out of steam trying to get away with things.

Why do tweens and teens lie? Sometimes, certainly, it's to cover bad behavior or to attain something they want (but aren't supposed to get). Sometimes, I think, it's to seem cool in front of their friends. And sometimes, maybe it's just another tool to help them feel in control and independent. Just as they are trying on new hairstyles and clothes, they are experimenting with their personality. Who are they going to be when they grow up? And, more importantly, how fast can they get there?

Let's assume that fibbing is just another developmental stage then. In that case, hopefully, you won't be completely appalled by the following Twitter feeds, in which teens not only lied, but are bragging about it to their peers. Then again, maybe the boasts themselves are lies. Is that like a double negative? If you lie about a lie are you really telling the truth? (What a tangled web teens weave!)

Here goes ...

"Oh yeah, we just watched a few movies ..."

"I didn't take the car last night."

"Everybody failed the test, mom."

"Nothing to worry about between me and him, we're just friends ..."

"I've already done my homework."

"It's not mine. It's my friend's."

"Can I stay home? I don't feel good."

"They don't give report cards anymore!"

"I can't hear you. I'll call you back."

"I don't know how those condoms got in my pocket."

"I swear if you get me this I won't ask for anything else."

That last one is sadly familiar to me (and to my wallet). The rest, happily, I have yet to encounter. And, I'd like to think I never will. But, in all honesty ...

You can read more of these feeds (if you really want to) at #LiesIveToldMyParents.