I always thought this quote was terrible –“Mothers of Teenagers Know Why Animals Eat Their Young” and yet now I can honestly chuckle and relate. OK, I’ve never really thought about eating my kids but military school and/or a nunnery might be an option.
It cracks me up when parents of toddlers and small children insinuate because I have two older children –ten and thirteen along with my two-year old, that parenting must be easier. I nod my head, hold my tongue and silently think, “Oh boy, you are going to eat those words someday oh parenting Yoda of a one-year-old.”
I’m not sure which part is easy? I don’t even get the benefits of my kids dressing themselves. I still have to check every article of clothing my daughter wears out of the house lest a hoochie mama try to slip by. Then there is my son who tries to pull his pants halfway down his behind and wears jeans so tight skinny could be defined as the new loose.
I get wrinkles from being up with a cranky toddler all night and then face a daily mental battle from my tween and teen. Sick babies might be a pain in the you know what but they don’t even come close to the never-ending onslaught of brain cell destruction that parenting older children requires. I feel like I need a graduate degree in reverse psychology and teen Latin (AKA kid speak) to get by.
How do I get my kids to not do stupid stuff when we all did stupid stuff at that age?
I cringe when my kid’s start probing into my past. “Mom, were you pure? Did you French kiss? Did you pray every day? How old were you when you first had sex, smoked, and stole your parent’s car for a joy ride on Balboa Island?” (Thanks dad for sharing that information with them)
Ummmmmm? Is this a multiple choice question? WWJD doesn’t seem to be cutting it anymore and I can’t repeat the acronym I am really thinking…
Sometimes at night, I hold little Kolby close and breathe in her innocence and thank God she is two. I smile in delight at her temper tantrums and bossiness and adorable pouty face when she sits in time-out. And I sing praises every morning because I can still dress her in whatever I want and put girly bows in her baby curls.
Mostly, I thank God she likes Mommy better than all her friends. Yeah for me! I appreciate this all the more because I know these moments expire around eleven -give or take a few months.
It’s difficult as a pastor’s wife. People expect me to do it right and have all the answers. The truth is, the only thing I have figured out is a reliance on the one who does –Jesus.
I’m the one in church raising her two wimpy arms high in worship, not because I am spiritual, but because I am begging and pleading for direction.
I literally prostrated myself on the ground of the floor in my closet a few weeks weeping and crying out to for God to guide my family through these difficult years of high school and Jr. High. Even though I have amazing kids whom I lavishly love and adore, navigating emotions and hormones and temptations is like nailing Jell-O to a tree –pointless and frustrating.
I guess if I am honest, I can thank God for these awkward puberty years too, because it certainly draws me closer to him.
On my knees close. Kissing the ground close. Flat on my face close.
I sure miss the days when a crisis could be resolved with a Hello Kitty band-aid and a kiss.
Do you have teens? Can you relate?
