Thursday, February 16, 2012


That's what I call them. Damnteenagers. I have two of them. Granted, I didn't birth them but they are mine just the same. I've always heard people talk about how hard teenagers were and I always thought those people were out of touch, old fogeys. I always assumed that I would be able to connect and understand MY teenagers. NOT completely true.
I have one headed toward the end of damnteenager life and one just started and I don't understand either of them. I have no idea what goes on in their minds. I have no idea WHAT THEY WERE THINKING. I actually wonder if they're thinking at all.
Sometimes I get to the point where I wonder if they'll be okay adults. I wonder where we've gone wrong because HOLY HELL they just don't seem to get it. And then they do something brilliant. Something responsible. Something kind and considerate. Something that makes me tear up with pride. And I see a glimpse of what kind of adult they'll be (if we let them live).
I pray, God knows I've prayed and I'll keep praying for them until my last breath. I pray they'll be okay. I pray they'll make good choices. I pray that our example and our rules have been enough.
I heard someone once say that during the teenage years you just have to "hold on". Not "hold on" to your teenager. But hold on to your hope and your faith that they'll get through these years fine, without a criminal record and with all limbs and brain cells intact.
It reminds me of a roller coaster that you really don't wanna be on. Every roller coaster I've ever gone on is one I didn't wanna be on. I hate them. But I go because my kids or my husband says they're fun and I don't wanna be a party pooper. I figured out while riding the coaster that if I fight it and freak out, the anxiety is worse. I've learned to close my eyes, breath deep and have faith. A million people ride roller coasters every day and they get through it fine.
So, I'm just going to hold on, breath deep and have faith that my damnteenagers will be okay.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

He Smells Like Another Woman

We embrace and it hits me like a brick wall. He smells like perfume.... not MY perfume.  I freeze and immediately begin to wonder who this woman is. Is she kind? Is she funny and creative? Does she take better care of him than I do? Does he love her more than he loves me? Does she cater to his every whim? For a moment, jealousy rages. I'm not ready to share him. How is it that time flies so quickly? How did we get to this place? It's not fair. I'm not ready for this.
I close my eyes and say a prayer and ask God to comfort me. I ask Him to wrap His arms around me. I ask Him to remind me that life is short and things change and to hold onto the wonderful memories but also to look forward to the new ones.
And God whispers in my thankful that you have a son who is loved and hugged by his teachers.