Quick. What's your Rorschach reaction to this picture of teens living in your house?
|Does Amazon still sell No-Bite by the dozen?|
|Keep 'em comin', ladies. Yoga class can wait.|
|Me and Ziggy, we got this--piece of cake.|
|Don't judge me!|
|Wow. Who knew. This retail therapy really works.|
|Wake me when it's over.|
|mmmkay....says here you'll be entering a self absorption phase...|
|Just do what I say. End of it. and...shhh.|
|Hi, honey. I redecorated your room while you were at school...|
|Rule #312: On Saturdays, from 8 am to 11 am you will...|
|That bush rustling over there, not your imagination.|
Being the mother of teenagers, it'll happen.
It does happen. When you're playing trains on the train table, or dressing up barbies, you don't see that day ever coming.
The days creep one at a time toward it: an extra stick of deodorant on your shopping list for the first time, requests to see a dermatologist, being asked to drop them off at the mall--without you.
You can read books and still there is no preparation for the day you pull the clothes out of the dryer and find yourself folding a pair of jeans with an inseam longer than yours.
No one can get you ready for that day. But it comes, and when it does, try and remember what it's like to desperately want to fit in. Know that your teen is doing exactly what they're biologically made to do: grow independent.
Accept the fact that you will never be more uncool.
And you won't be right again until they call home from college, when they realize just how much you suddenly know.
Think of your own teen years, the pimples, how you were positive that everyone was better than you, at everything.
Be there for your teen.
Make memories while they're still home.
Find the time to talk to them, so that your only communication isn't about what they did wrong.
Decide how you want to walk into this stage of parenting, because parenting isn't static. And we will all enter this phase of it-- of being the parent of a teenager.