I often say that raising teenagers makes me want to call my dad every day to apologize for my own teen years. Raising teens is hard y’all. The lack of motivation for school. The apparently inability to do chores. The experimenting with things like sex, drugs and rock and roll (or something like that). Plus the eye rolling [them]. The worrying [me]. The lying [them]. The hyperventilating [me]. I’m feeling a panic attack coming on just thinking about it.

I keep telling Keaton that I worry about him from the second he walks out the front door until the second he comes home at night. He’s a good kid. But he’s also a teenager. And teenagers are insane. So I worry. I can’t help it.

I have this story I tell Keaton all the time about how I’ve worried about him his whole life…ever since he was a teeny tiny baby. On Saturday we were having yet another “I worry about you” conversation [ok, it was more of a speech] and I again brought up this story. Keaton replied, “Mom, I know the glow worm story. I’ve heard it a million times.” It’s become our thing.

So what’s the glow worm story?

When Keaton was about 8 months old, he and I moved in with my mom. We lived in the basement. Keaton got the bedroom and I slept on the fold-out couch in the family room.

I got Keaton a glow worm. He loved that little glow worm. He slept with it every night. He had it until he was entering preschool age. By that point the head had fallen off a few times and Lee had to rig the head back on with a piece of wire. It was put through the wringer. But through a wringer of love.

At around 9 months old Keaton was sound asleep in his crib and I was just crawling under the sheets of the pull-out couch to go to bed. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of light. I turned over to see what it was. And an orangey light was flickering. In Keaton’s room.

Me, being the calm woman that I am [...I'll give you a minute to stop laughing...] immediately thought Keaton’s room was on fire. I leaped out of bed and ran in to his room; prepared to crawl my way to crib and save him from the flames.

But when I got to his crib I didn’t see any flames. Or smell any smoke.

Instead, all I saw was Keaton sleeping away. And laying on his glow worm. His breathing was making him roll on the glow worm a little and it would light up. Then turn off. Then light up again.

So now, every time I tell Keaton how much I love him. And how much I worry about him. I remind him of the glow worm story. “I was ready to run in to a burning room to save you,” I say with a big dramatic gasp. “Granted it was just a glow worm. But still…”

Keaton finally got his driver’s permit at the beginning of July.

I’ve been begging him to get his permit so he can then get his license. We need another driver in the house to help get everybody where they need to be or to run to the store for milk or something. I never thought I’d have to twist his arm to get him to get his permit. I thought all kids wanted to drive the second the law allowed. And in the state of Iowa he could have gotten his permit on his 14th birthday.

But then again I didn’t get my permit until I was already 16 (although I taught myself to drive when I was 15). And then I only got my permit because it was required for driver’s ed. I guess little enthusiasm for driving is a family trait.

So he got his permit, but then he was gone the whole month of July to camp and grandparent’s houses. There was no time to teach him the basics or let him get behind the wheel.

That all changed this month. Now he’s home. And he wants to drive. Every chance he gets.

But he’s not very good.

He just needs more practice. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.

Yesterday we were leaving to go to take him to church group. He, of course, wanted to drive. And I’m trying to ignore my anxiety and let him get some experience. So I tossed him the keys and jumped in the passenger seat.

He turned on the truck. Put it in reverse and said, “This is the first time I’ve ever driven out of the garage before.”

Famous last words.

He stepped stomped on the gas and the truck jerked backwards. We were flying out of the garage.

“YOU’RE GOING TO FAST,” I screamed…too late.

He was going to fast. And turned too soon. The bumper hooked on to the wall of the garage. And we were still moving.

I jumped out of the truck. The grill was laying in the middle of the garage floor. No longer attached to the truck. One of the headlights was dangling from the truck like an eyeball on a Halloween mask.

Then I looked over at the garage. The garage that’s part of the house WE ARE TRYING TO SELL. The wall was completely bent out off the cement slab. The cinder blocks that hold up the wall were knocked out and laying in the grass. The garage door frame was bent so the rolly things that ride through the track to open and close the door would fall off track if the door was moved.

I tried not to cry. I tried not to yell. “Just pull the truck back in to the garage,” I sneered at Keaton. And I walked back in to the house. To hyperventilate.

He’s a new driver. He’s just learning. There’s going to be bumps in the road. Literally. But it will be ok. This is what I kept chanting to myself to calm myself down.

Later, after my heart stopped raising and my blood pressure returned to normal, I went to talk to Keaton. “I’m not mad at you. You know that right? I’m frustrated this happened, but we’ll get it fixed. You’ll get a bit more practice in and navigating garage walls will become easier for you.”

So now we just need to get it fixed.

While the younger kids are at camp, Keaton’s been in West Virginia on a mission trip for church. They got to stay in the dorms at the school that is portrayed in the movie We are Marshal. While there they are working on a few projects; building something and teaching a bible school class. Keaton got to play the part of a worm and spent part of the day dressed in a green body sox and a shirt. I really hope somebody took a picture of that.

On Thursday night Keaton texted me:

You should hear about it tomorrow but i’m tellin you now because i feel terrible about it but two of my roommates were throwing bottles out a window and i knew

I called him and we talked about it. He didn’t throw anything. He knew it was wrong. His only mistake was not telling anybody what was going on. I was glad to hear he wasn’t partaking in the prank. But was a little upset to hear he also did nothing to stop it. However it was clear that he knew he was wrong and was taking responsibility for it.

So all was good.

But then last night I got the whole story from a friend who was on the trip. A friend who ended up having to fly home early with the two boys who were throwing water bottle out of their dorm window. A flight they had to take because the police were involved and the boys either needed to go home or go to jail. They stole the water bottles from the work site. They came dangerously close to hitting pedestrians with the full water bottles. And they almost hit a cop car with a bottle. AND this was the second night they were throwing water bottles out of their window. Keaton left all of that out when we had talked the night before.

So I began texting Keaton asking him to confirm my new found knowledge of the event. He ended up calling me. Yes, everything I heard was true. And the youth leader wanted to talk to me.

She got on the phone and said, “I wanted to talk to you. And it’s for a good thing.”

Ok, now I’m really confused.

She went on to say that while they were initially disappointed because Keaton didn’t come forward and didn’t tell, they are now very impressed with him for taking responsibility for his role in the matter. No he didn’t throw any water bottles. Other kids confirmed that. But he now realizes that he shouldn’t have allowed it to happen either. And he, all on his own [along with another boy who knew, but also didn't tell] volunteered to help the other two boys pay off their debt to the church. They are going to work off the three plane tickets (for the two boys and the chaperon who had to fly back) by working at the church.

Keaton is 15. And, like many 15-year-olds, he will find himself in situations where he will have to make hard decisions about what’s right or wrong. He will have to decide whether or not to give in to peer pressure or do the right thing. He will have to face consequences when he experiments with danger or finds himself in tough situations.

One of the hardest parts of being a parent of a teen is letting them make their own decisions. Letting them take the fall when they make bad decisions. And trusting them to do the right thing.

I’m so happy to see that Keaton is admitting when he’s wrong and taking responsibility for his actions. I’m so proud of him for realizing his mistake and learning from it. He is such a good kid. I know he will make more mistakes in the next couple of years. But I have faith that he will learn from them and be a better person because of them. I’m so lucky to have such a wonderful teen.

I sit here a little teary-eyed thinking about your 18th birthday. Today you are officially a man. Legally able to make your own decisions. Face your own consequences. Vote (so go register)! Sign a contract. Get your own apartment. Buy your own car. Buy cigarettes (but please don’t). Gamble (in some states). Play the lottery. Join the military. Get married (but please wait). And more. It’s such a big, monumental occasion. I hope we prepared you well for whatever the future may hold for you.

I still remember, vividly, the first time I met you. You’re dad and I had just started dating and we were camping with some friends. Dad brought you out to the campground. You were just 13 months old. You had the cutest little cheeks and this little rolly polly belly. You’re foot was wrapped in gauze because, always curious and a risk-taker, you accidentally pulled a curling iron off the bathroom counter at your mom’s house. You toddled around through the grass, staying close to Dad, a little curious as to who all these people were. Curious who I was.

A few months later you moved in with us for a bit while your mom looked for a new place. I changed your diapers (although I mostly pushed that chore off to dad ’cause yuck ), worked with your mom to get you off the bottle and drinking out of a sippy cup, and even attempted potty training a time or two (although you were having none of it). I was young, and not nearly as patient as I should have been, but having you in my home was such an amazing experience. You were this adorable little boy with the most beautiful eyes and cutest blond hair. You had a smile that lit up a room and melted hearts. You would nuzzle with us on the couch (and then wake us up entirely too early). You would laugh with this most infectious laugh when we tickled you. And you loved to play basketball with that little toddler basketball set Dad bought you.

When Keaton was born you were an awesome big brother. You loved playing with him and (usually) were very good about sharing your toys. You were a protective big brother; loved to show him off and worried about him when he got hurt. Keaton couldn’t have asked for a better big brother and best friend!

When you were around four, you and your mom moved to Wisconsin. It was very sad for us. We missed getting to see you all the time. But before you started school, you mom let you come visit us for long stretches. And once you started school we tried to pack as much as we could in to holidays, Spring Break, and the summer. It was such a treat to get to spend that time with you; coloring Easter eggs, celebrating your birthday, watching the fireworks on the 4th of July, cheering you on in the annual kids run, seeing the excitement in your eyes on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, going to Adventureland, Disney World, and the waterpark, watching movies in the theater and at home, and just getting to spend time with you. When I was pregnant with Caleb I took all of you kids to one of my early doctor appointments so you could hear Caleb’s heartbeat. You were just 9-years-old. I don’t think you (or any of the other kids) fully understood what that swish, swish, swish sound was, but it was an awesome moment for me to have ALL of you kids there. Even when you didn’t live here full-time you were always an important member of this family.

In sixth grade, your mom and dad decided to switch custody and you came to live with us. Words cannot express how thrilled we were to have you in our home full-time. For the first time in years we got to be a big part of your life. We were there to help you with homework. Attend your school events; conferences, track and field day, basketball games, and then later, football and golf. We got to watch you perform in band, playing your trumpet, and later we go to listen to you practice that bass guitar. And we enjoyed watching your faith grow as you were baptized and then confirmed. And you got to be a big part of all of our events; the kids’ birthday parties, Halloween, Mother’s Day, Dad’s graduation, Easter in Chicago with Grandma Cathy, plays at the local community theater, family dinners, etc.

We got to experience many firsts with you. I taught you how to drive (even though my heart did skip a little beat when you almost slid in to that handicap sign). We saw you through driver’s ed and then Dad got to take you to the DOT for you driver’s license. We got to see you play football with professionals at Tim Dwight’s football camp. When you had your first dates I was half tempted to secretly follow you to the skating rink and the movie theater (but I didn’t…I promise). We were thrilled to be able to send you on many trips, including church trips to New Jersey and Texas and your school trip to Washington D.C. And I was honored to have you accompany me on that trip to Chicago for that Ford event.

I’m not going to lie. Last summer when you decided to move back to Wisconsin, it was heartbreaking for us. And to be honest, I still feel like it was a bad decision and you were running away. Running away from our structure and our rules that [like any average teenger] you didn’t want to follow. I’m not going to apologize for coming down on you so hard. Or for doing everything I could think of to help you. I care about you. I worry about you. My heart breaks for you when I see you making decisions that you still can’t completely grasp how fully they will effect your adult life. But I also know that you have a wonderful, big heart and you are a very intelligent young man adult. And I have faith and I know you will overcome these bumps in your road and you will be just fine.

It has truly been an amazing 18 years. Thank you for allowing me to be part of your journey. Thank you for being truly the best stepson a stepmom could ask for. Thank you for everything from our screaming matches to our hugs and I love yous. I look forward to seeing where you go next and being a part of your future. I do now, and forever and always will, love you from the bottom of my heart. Happy 18th Birthday Justis! I wish you the best!

Love,
Christine