There was a time about three years ago when I was sitting cross-legged on my bed and crying profusely. My daughter was 13 years old and started to get mouthy. The words “I hate you” left her mouth after one heated argument.
This was the beginning of the end for my sweet spirited little Christina.
However, one wonderful thing happened to me that night. My son, of 11 at the time, came to me and made a solemn promise that he would never behave that way, that he’d always love me, and would cuddle with me anytime I wanted. I smiled knowing that would not always be the case and thought to myself that I should get him to sign a contract.
Three years have passed since that tearful night, and here before me stands a lippy teenage boy, who hates life but hates us more. There’s no more cuddling, no more I love you’s and definitely no cuddles! Same story, different child.
Didn’t I make that contract? No I didn’t, but I did remind him of that night. What was his response?
“Things change Mom!”
Shit, I knew there was a reason for having a third child and this was it. I needed another child to reassure me that they’d be better and would still cuddle with me. Why did I recant on my husband’s request a few years back?
My daughter and I have weathered the storm and are the best of friends now. However, I breathe. We have yet another long road ahead of us.
As frustrating as it is, I have to laugh because each and every one of us from generations
past has had to deal with the same teenage angst.
I laugh at parent’s who say that their kid will never be that way. I look with sorrow at the good solid parent’s who have to deal with drugs, drinking, and sexual mischief from their teenager.
Yes, it’s true. You will lose control. Not all of the control, but a good extent of control once your children become teens. My children are really good kids when it comes to certain things, but they certainly make up for it under the roof. There’s a lot of arguments and lots of laziness.
All in all though, I try to embrace this period and remind them that these stories (however uncute they are) will be told at a certain time in their lives as well.
There are days where I’m filled with regret that I wouldn’t cuddle with my young daughter because her room was a disaster, and I used that as punishment. Yes payback and hindsight is a bitch! I also miss those days when my husband worked nights, but my bed was filled with the sweet smell of children, stories, and lots of giggles under the sheets.
Yes, they must grow up, but why does the hardest of times come last?
Yesterday, he left to go the cottage for two weeks with friends. I figured communication would be few and far between. However, we had a wonderful surprise from the boy who doesn’t talk to us much anymore.
He phoned! He truly does love us and this too shall pass!
