My teenage son has contributed to the vast majority of my gray hairs, and although I love him a crazy amount, he also makes me crazy.
From his special ability to only see things from his own viewpoint, rendering himself the victim in every possible scenario….. to his disregard for a clean organized room and bathroom which is all I really will ever want from him for Christmas….
It is sometimes quite a challenge.
And, you know, he’s a teenager. So multiply everything by 5 million because if those two chin hairs are any indication….hormones are raging, and rational thought is out the window.
Something is happening though…
Here is an example of something that kind of gives me hope that he might come out the other side of puberty in a good place.
He was at his dads house Monday, because that’s one of his nights with his dad. I get a call from him, around the time I need to put the little ones to bed, asking if I can iron some clothes if he brings them over because he forgot he needed to dress up for school.
“Don’t you guys have an iron??”
He doesn’t want his dad to iron his clothes, and he doesn’t want to….because neither one is capable of doing it well, not as well as me.
This is true….but also designed to inflate my domestic ego so I can’t resist demonstrating my mad ironing skills.
It works. He comes over and hands me a shirt that looks like-and probably was-balled up somewhere before it was fully dry, and a pair of pants with questionable history of cleanliness.
I iron them both, he takes them and leaves.
Later that night, I get a text.
Good night mom, love you. Thank you for everything you do for me. By the way you need to step it up, you’ve been slacking lately. JK, love you but for real pick it up get your head out of the gutter, JK love you. Tell Gasan to keep up the good work, he’s been ballin lately.
Interpretation: I love you mom. I’m 15 and on the verge of being a man, but still kind of a little boy and I know maybe I’m hard to deal with but I’ll never actually admit that…but we can both just “know it” and I’m going to cover up any expression of feelings with little odd remarks about you not doing your domestic duties well enough and a nod to your husband for being a cool guy.
Progress people. I’ll take what I can get.