The Bean Blog

Traveling to the island of teenager

May 4, 2009 Help Me! I have a teenager

I don’t know if I’m cut out to be a mom of teenagers. People often say to me, “You’re such a great mom. I don’t know how you do it.” And I have to look around to see who in the heck they are talking about because it certainly isn’t me. It can’t be me. Me who let’s it build up until I’m so ticked off I am red-face, screaming at the top my lungs at these ungrateful kids. Me who sometimes cries in to my bathwater because it’s just too overwhelming. Me who literally threw Keaton out the front door on Saturday night because it was either that or strangle him.

I keep telling myself, some day we will all laugh about this over a big ham at Christmas dinner. We will reminisce about how truly difficult teenagers can be. And I’ll giggle as my adult children tell me about how they are struggling to raise their own young children because that’s what they get.

Of course, that’s assuming I haven’t killed them by then.

I feel like I’m on a vacation from hell and I forgot my passport. And there’s no U.S. embassy anywhere. I’m stuck on this island called teenager where I don’t know the customs or the fashions or the language. The natives have their own special language. It’s called crazy. I thought I understood it. I used to be a teenager. I even spoke crazy once. But now? Now I’ve forgotten the basics (like much of the German I learned in high school). Now it’s just nonsense to me. And it’s so frustrating listening to these islanders speak this crazy language to me that I don’t understand.

When I’m frustrated I like to be alone. I’m an introvert so I gain my energy from some alone time. In a small house with seven people alone time is as rare as unicorns. So I go for a drive. I’m worried some day I won’t come back.

But here we are. Another day. Another battle. The kids still need to be reminded to do their homework and brush their teeth. I still have to hear “it’s just not fair” on a regular basis. Or my personal favorite “you just don’t understand how stressful my life is.” But today I’m calm. Today I don’t need to go for a drive. Today I’m going to ignore the eye rolls and the heavy sighs and just make supper, help with homework, and give hugs and kisses before passing out in my own bed.

Because that’s what mothers do.

You know what’s really sad? Some day I’m going to miss all this. Some day my children will be grown and moved out and have families of their own. And I’ll be here bitching about how quiet my house is and how much I wish the kids would come visit. Apparently I’m just never satisfied.

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Tags: mothers, raising teenagers, teenagers