Teenagers
I had gotten smug. I had begun to believe that through some miracle of parenting I had effectively curtailed the dreaded - duh, duh, duh!! - teenager phase. You know, the phase that makes mostly sane mothers pull their hair out strand by strand, question everything they once believed, and consider self-admission into an institution.
What a fool I've been. And now I am lost in the wilderness that is raising teenagers. Is she still loving? Yes. Is she still kind and generous and forgiving? Yes. Does she smile and laugh and think my jokes are funny some of the time? Yes. Yes. Yes to all of that and more.
But she's different. Some days she looks at me like she sees me through someone else's eyes. Some days I can't get a word out of her. And sometimes my words hurt her for no reason other than I said them on this particular day when her worldview had shifted with her mood.
Is it moodiness? Yes. Is it hormonal? Sometimes, yes. Can I blame it on technology and 'kids these days' and social media? Not this part, no. Because what I'm learning as I drag myself through the tangled overgrowth of this teenage forest, is that this particular phase is purposeful and necessary and part of her journey.
She might not understand what she's doing, but I do. And it hurts my mommy heart, just the tiniest bit. Because she's stretching her wings, testing her boundaries, figuring out who she is other than a daughter or a sister or a girl who loves softball.
She's growing up.
We are close, the two of us, and always have been. Yet, I think even that must stretch and change to fit the woman she is becoming. And I have to learn how to give her the space to do that while still parenting her around mood swings and hormones and technology and 'kids these days' and social media.
It's a forest, all right, filled with gnarly bushes, muddy quagmires, gigantic trees with limbs that twist and branches laced with thorns that sting. I could get lost here, throw my hands up in the air, sink to the ground and give up. But I won't, even if I have no hair left and a mental institution on speed dial.
Because she's worth every eye roll, every inexplicable sullen moment, every exasperated sigh and every noncommittal shoulder shrug. And when we get to the other side, I can't wait to meet the young woman who emerges from this wild forest with me.
What a fool I've been. And now I am lost in the wilderness that is raising teenagers. Is she still loving? Yes. Is she still kind and generous and forgiving? Yes. Does she smile and laugh and think my jokes are funny some of the time? Yes. Yes. Yes to all of that and more.
But she's different. Some days she looks at me like she sees me through someone else's eyes. Some days I can't get a word out of her. And sometimes my words hurt her for no reason other than I said them on this particular day when her worldview had shifted with her mood.Is it moodiness? Yes. Is it hormonal? Sometimes, yes. Can I blame it on technology and 'kids these days' and social media? Not this part, no. Because what I'm learning as I drag myself through the tangled overgrowth of this teenage forest, is that this particular phase is purposeful and necessary and part of her journey.
She might not understand what she's doing, but I do. And it hurts my mommy heart, just the tiniest bit. Because she's stretching her wings, testing her boundaries, figuring out who she is other than a daughter or a sister or a girl who loves softball.
She's growing up.
We are close, the two of us, and always have been. Yet, I think even that must stretch and change to fit the woman she is becoming. And I have to learn how to give her the space to do that while still parenting her around mood swings and hormones and technology and 'kids these days' and social media.
It's a forest, all right, filled with gnarly bushes, muddy quagmires, gigantic trees with limbs that twist and branches laced with thorns that sting. I could get lost here, throw my hands up in the air, sink to the ground and give up. But I won't, even if I have no hair left and a mental institution on speed dial.
Because she's worth every eye roll, every inexplicable sullen moment, every exasperated sigh and every noncommittal shoulder shrug. And when we get to the other side, I can't wait to meet the young woman who emerges from this wild forest with me.
Well said. We are in this together!
ReplyDeleteYes we are. I'm glad to have so many friends who are in this time of life and parenthood together. We need each other. :)
DeleteI feel the same way Melissa. My daughter acts so much the way that I remember that I was at 14 years old. Just ask my mom (and she was probably the same way at 14). We love each other very much but yet I am am so very annoying at times. :)
ReplyDeleteHah! That's the other part to this - we remember how we were at this age and from what I remember it wasn't pretty. :) In many ways, I think she does 14 way better than I did.
DeleteTHIS. I love every word of this and am living it, too. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteIt's good for those of us going through this to share with each other. When the kids were little, I felt like it was more natural for us to commiserate with each other than it is when they're older. Thanks for reading!!
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