I made it through a teenage girl. She's almost 21 and reasonably ok. It was a rough five or six years getting her there, though. Teen girls are sharp and spiky, like cacti or porcupines. Their defense is to assail you with their needle-y words. There's a lot of eye rolling, on both parts. Now enter teenage boys, he just turned 13 and has gone from 0 to teenager overnight. Teen boys are rough and blunt, like a sledgehammer or wrecking balls. When they lose their shit, they "Hulk out", growling, punching, destroying, mincing no words. I wrote the following a couple nights ago, last night he had the mother of all fucking melt downs. I came back to this, to remind myself that he's still my bud and I'm pretty sure I don't actually want to re-home him like a food-aggressive pit bull.
Sometime, in the last two weeks, since the boychild turned 13, he has turned into a complete and utter...13 year old! It's like someone flipped a switch in his little, teenage, pea brain. All of a sudden he's challenging me on everyfuckingthing. And this is not just his typical arguing (which he loves to do) this is blatant challenging.
Tonight, we had a go-nowhere volley of a conversation for over an hour about respect, entitlement and expectations. The ENTIRE time, he was rude, disrespectful and argumentative telling me I needed to be nicer and respect him. I suggested he find a new mom, a nicer one. He agreed and I told him I'd make arrangements tomorrow. Things were going downhill faster than a wagon full of fat kids. I ended our little talk and sent him to bed. I shut down the house for the night, doors, dogs, lights and I went pee. While on the thinkin' chair, I started to write this blog on my phone. (Remember when you just had to read shampoo bottles?!) I wiped, I flushed, I washed my hands, tweezed a few stray brows, checked my chin for stray hairs (none today, fuck you mother nature) I put on my sleepin' attire. The point here is that about 10 minutes had elapsed. I came out of the bathroom and was startled by that same boy, teenager now, poking his head in my room.
"I'm sorry mom."
"I love you son. You're my favorite son. "
" I'm your only son! "
"I would never give you away, son."
"I would never trade you for a new mom. "
" Go to bed, kid, I love you."
When your children are separated by 8 years, you inconveniently forget some things. I had almost forgotten how bad teenagers are, also, how good. Mostly, I'm reminded that I really don't want to do this again. Someone hold me. ~ Deuces, J
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