The thing about raising teenagers is that one minute they’re your baby (worshipping the ground you walk on and soaking up every second you spend with them) and the next minute they’re know-it-all strangers in semi-developed bodies who think that everything you say and do is stupid.
(And when I say “you”, I mean ME. My teenagers think that everything I say and do is stupid.)
You can’t arm yourself against the invasion of teenage hormones. Although technically, you could probably hide under your bed and get away with it.
The good news is that it’s never ALL attitude. Once in a while – and if you’re lucky, maybe even daily – you’ll get a glimpse of your babies; the ones you knew so well before the invasion.
For me, I got two glimpses on the same day this week, which makes me a very lucky (read: hopeful) mom.
Glimpse #1 happened when Samantha, 13, decided to take it upon herself to wake up her brother AND offer to make him breakfast. I heard her picking up the slack one morning as I lay in bed blowing my nose and coughing my lungs out.
Glimpse #2 was when Jonathan, 14, responded to my apologetic text for not bringing his longboard to his father’s house until the day after I said I would.
“Don’t apologize,” he responded. “You’re sick. I’m just grateful that you’re bringing it for me. Thanks and love you always.”
So while part of me wants to ring their little necks at times and lock them in their rooms until they’re in their late 30s, the other part of me knows that’s illegal. And then with this week’s showing of consideration from both of my teens, I’m feeling pretty proud. And happy.
Maybe it was my fever but I felt a surge of warmth and even hope this week. Hope that as my household enters the mouth of teenagedom, I may not feel the need to hide under my bed after all.