I have two teenagers at home. Females. Yeah, I hear the women snickering and the men flinching at those words. Can we say: Angst by the Boat load? Grab a bucket, folks, it’s time to bale!
Now I also have an 11 year-old son who has sprouted pit hair — this knowledge thanks to his big sisters — and is showing all the signs of also hitting that horrific time in anyone’s life. Puberty.
I shudder at the mere thought, believe me.
His voice is cracking…he’s growing an inch a month…his feet are now bigger than mine…and he sweats like, well, like a guy. Luckily (knock on wood) he has NOT discovered the complex attraction of male to female. Just shoot me when that happens. Please.
Truly, I am enjoying watching my children grow and change. I rejoice in seeing them make good decisions — and apologizing when they make rather stupid ones. I enjoy seeing them as more ‘equal’ than as the tiny humans I had to do everything for. Now they can do for me.
And the angst? Yeah, well, it’s like revisiting my own teen years. The whining…the moping…the certainty that MY zit is really the most hideous zit to ever appear on anyone’s face. Their insecurities take me right back to my own.
Now I can look back, laugh and shrug my shoulders. Did I ever really think such trivial things were “The End”? Yep. Sure did. With all the melodrama involved. And yes, I can tell them — someday you’ll see that this really does NOT matter. But they don’t believe that. Just like I didn’t.
My mother sat across from me at lunch recently as I complained about life with teens and pre-teens and began to laugh hysterically. She pointed a finger at me, this somewhat evil grin on her face and said: “Pay back is sweet!”
I was shocked. Then I laughed. So true…I just can’t wait until the day when I can say the same to my kids.