This past year has really tested some of the parent-child bonds in our house, and more than ever I am questioning if I am doing this whole parenting thing right. Between changing schools and changing bodies, there have been a lot of gut-wrenching conversations. While it's gratifying to see them growing into actual people, with opinions and feelings, it's harder than ever to put my foot down and be their parent, rather than their friend.

The biggest challenge for me is how to listen to my kids, and allow them to make decisions that are appropriate for their age and may have undesirable consequences, without relaxing any of the totalitarian regime that I am running as their mom. I want them to feel comfortable enough to tell me anything, and come to me with everything, but not think they can get away with anything.I've had two particular situations happen recently: one of which I think we, as parents, bungled and one which I think we may have gotten right. "A" came home from school one day, clearly agitated, and I could tell he wanted to talk. Later, the Wonderful Husband explained to me what had happened, and also told me that A didn't want to tell me, because he knew I would call the school and A thought that would cause a problem for him. After much discussion, the WH and I thought that it was a fairly serious situation, and that the school needed to know that it was going on. So, just as A predicted, I did call the school, and there were consequences. The next day, A came home absolutely furious with me, as the matter had been addressed in school, and he suspected that I had ratted.In retrospect, I really wish that I had had more of a conversation with A before going to the school. At the end of the day, it was not a situation he would have felt comfortable speaking up about, and it had the potential to harm other kids, and it was causing a great deal of anxiety for him, so I think I would still have needed to talk to the school officials.However, I think A might not have felt so betrayed if I had talked to him first. He said he hesitated to tell me, because he knew my first reaction would be to get mad. He was right. I do have that kind of knee-jerk reaction. In the end, we had a good conversation about how I need to tone down my initial reaction, and he needs to be more forthcoming with things like this.Recently, I see that he has been making an attempt to tell me more things, but the conversation usually starts with a "Don't get mad, but. …" So, that was the first situation. I don't think it went well, and I am still beating myself up over it. I know A doesn't trust me not to overreact when he confides in me.The second situation started with a batch of cookies. I had made them as a treat for lunches, and I also told the kids they could have one each as a snack when they got home from school, and they would still have some left for lunches the next day. The kids usually come home and have their snack and start their homework while I am finishing up my work day. They've gotten pretty good at following this routine independently.When I came into the kitchen to make dinner that evening, I noticed that almost all of the cookies were gone. I called the kids into the kitchen and asked who had taken more than their share of cookies. Three little faces simultaneously said "not me." Since I had exercised self-control, and the cat doesn't really care for chocolate cookies, I knew someone was lying.One of my children should absolutely not play poker, because the guilt was clearly written all over her face. I decided not to call her on it, but let them know that I was disappointed. I could have punished all three of them, but since I already suspected who the culprit was, I decided to let them work it out among themselves.A little while later, a tearful E came and confessed that she had been the one to take more. She just couldn't help it; the cookies were so good that she couldn't stop eating them. (The WH still thinks that she was playing me a little with the flattery.)This was a tough one, because now we both knew she did something wrong, but I didn't want to punish her for having the courage to come to me and confess. I asked her what she thought would be a good punishment for being greedy, and she said that next time I made cookies, she would give hers to her brothers. I also said that maybe, since they've grown, it was time to consider two cookies for snack. So, there was a consequence she had to live with, but I tried to show her that talking to me could have a positive outcome, too.Keeping the lines of communication open in this day and age is critical. Between these two situations, I can see how tenuous those lines are. Tough conversations are also easier to have when you're sharing a few cookies. So far no one has noticed that I've exercised my maternal right to make the cookies smaller, they're just happy they're getting two!Liz Pinkey is a contributing writer to the Times News. Her column appears weekly in our Saturday feature section.