A Mom's Teen Rant (no. 6,854)

I was planning on continuing with laughs from my high seas adventure (I will, soon) but my funny momentum keeps getting sidetracked because I am so damn UNamused this summer.

Why?  Because I own a few teenagers.

(cue in collective, knowing nod…)

Judging by the countless conversations I’ve been having with other parents, I am in very good company.

Show me a mom who hasn’t complained about her teen this summer and I’ll show you a mom who thinks her kid is actually going to sleep when he goes up to his room at eleven.

Pay no attention to that fine film of powder in my mouth;  it’s just a little dust from my ground teeth…

If teenagers are, say, 13-14-15ish… they are duly driving their folks crazy with their daily slothlike behavior.  Remember when we spent summers outdoors?  Hmm…

If they’re 16-17ish, they might be working a little but clearly not nearly as much as we were at that age. 

If they’re 18 and (god forbid) going off to college, they’ve immediately crossed over the line into I’m-now-an-independent-adult-and-don’t-need-you-anymore…--…except-to-pay-for-just-about-everything…--…but-that-doesn’t-count-since-I’m-still-an-independent-adult.

Without question, the absolute WORST teenagers -- or twadults (“tweens” for this age span) -- are the ones who are now home from college.  Armed with a slight taste of freedom, they don’t think it’s any big deal to roar up a driveway at 2 (OR FOUR) in the morning ….  You know where I’m going here.

I am done.  Just done.

My boys eat C-O-N-S-T-A-N-T-L-Y -- especially the 14-year-old.  I learned at the onset of the summer that I simply cannot keep food in the house at an acceptable rate of satisfaction for everyone so I just stopped trying.  I buy two gallons of milk and an 18-pack of eggs once a week and when they go, they’re not replenished.  It took me awhile but I recently put the moratorium on cereal after noontime.  Bowls were consumed right before dinner, right after dinner and as a bedtime snack.  Ridiculous to the max.

Never before have  I so diligently perused the bins of discounted, bruised fruit, day-old baked goods and Shoppers Value snacks.  No shame whatsoever.

My daughter wants to know why I am always in a foul mood.  Here’s a sampling of reasons:

* Since she is, in fact, leaving for college in a few weeks, I’d like to kiss her sweet, sleeping forehead before heading off to work each morning … but I’m afraid of twisting and spraining my ankle on the way to her bed.

* When I come home from work around noon, I usually walk in to a room of scratching, mildly clothed boys, perched on couches with food containers covering every counter top.  (These days are in direct contrast to those when I walk into a house that’s hauntingly-quiet, because no one is awake yet.)

* The broken sleep of late-night curfew-breaking is without question, worse than the infancy stage of a child’s development.  It makes a mom cranky.  Really, really (REALLY) cranky.

* The school-required summer readings?   FortheloveofGod … just DO IT.  I’ve done my part:  gotten the books, taken away the X-box power cord and – at times – disabled the internet to prevent access to the cheater’s paradise that is Spark Notes.   Just read the damn book!

So yes, I will admit … there have been times this summer that I have been extremely perturbed (umm, the dings in my car come to mind first).

But it’s not every day.

Some days I take a deep breath and realize these annoyances are fleeting.

Some days the stark reality of an emptying nest hits me harder than others.

Some days I wonder if tidy bedrooms and counters void of congealed toothpaste will ever bring the happiness I imagine they would.

But that’s just some days.

Most days I hope that the teenagers who spend so much time sulking in their rooms, desperately anticipating their great escape, will always want to return to their oft-messy home and crazy, ranting mother.

Make that all days.

Because I think … if you’ve survived your own adolescence without a crazy, ranting mother …  well that’s a little sad is all.

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Thanks for popping in!  

-- Tina Drakakis