First off, let me just say this: I can’t deal with teenagers.
Maybe it’s because I was technically still a teenager less than a decade ago.
Maybe it’s because we seem to live on different planets.
Maybe it’s because I still have some teenager-like tendencies (queue the rolling eyes and temper tantrums that rear their head when i least expect it.)
Maybe it’s a lot of things.
I can’t deal with constant bickering and fighting. I can’t deal with being disrespected. I can’t deal with life not being good enough, while we are trying SO HARD to provide so much for them.
We are in the process of selling house 1, living in house 2 (fixing up as we stay) and purchasing house 3. My prince, 9 and I can’t wait. Prince Charming and I dream about it every single day. We smile and get giddy and I cannot hardly contain how excited I am.
13 hates it. He actually likes the house. He likes the land. He hates the thought of having to work on a farm with us. (Big surprise.)
He is a downer whenever we bring up this thing, this thing we have worked for and saved for and dreamed about and spent so much time, energy, and freaking MONEY on. And he sucks the joy out of anything we mention about it. I can’t handle being lifeless.
When we pick him up from school, his first request is to get snacks.
No. We have some at home.
No. You’ve had enough today.
Okay, how about we order pizza (always pizza).
Well, considering dad is in the kitchen right now, sweating over our dinner. Probably not. And probably not because we ate out last night with you. So…… definitely not two nights in a row, thanks.
Can we watch this R Rated movie as a family? Or just send 9 to his room?
……..No? You’re 13? and No.
Can I call my girlfriend at 9:30pm.
……………………..no? what? no. its Wednesday. No. Do you not know what common decency is? Don’t call anyone past 9:00pm. No.
But I’m the monster.
I gave and I gave and I poured out my everything into these kids the first two years of our marriage. And before that, when we were dating. I sacrificed hours at work, sleep- when I’d wake up at 5am to come to my Prince’s house to help him get kids on the bus so HE could work. When I took on three new person’s laundry. When I became a grandma at 26. yeah, I have given a lot of me.
The only thing I hope for in return is an occasional “glad to be here” or a “love you too” when we send them off to bed or off to their mom’s for a week. Some sort of acknowledgement of my existence.
It gets hard to feel like I’m unheard. It gets hard to feel like I am on my own.
Feel like waving my white flag.