By: Jessica Harper
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They Will See It All
Despite years of stealthy dressing in dimly lit spaces, there comes a day when my teenage son barges in while I’m getting ready. This unexpected visit is usually triggered by a “crisis” like hunting for that yellow t-shirt I asked them to put away three days ago. In that split second, they make a startling realization that I share the same anatomy as the women they see on TV—albeit with a different fat-to-muscle ratio. Let’s just say that moment has the power to suck all the air from the room, sending them sprinting out faster than a speeding bullet. After hastily completing my outfit, I dash to the bank to start a savings account for future therapy sessions. We’ll likely never discuss this incident again, not even after my nighttime confessions and sleepless nights. -
The Odor is Real
Words fail to capture the essence of teenage boy sweat. I’ve coined the term “Sweatmones” to describe this phenomenon. As their hormones kick into high gear, their sweat transforms into a formidable force that no deodorant can truly combat. The smell lingers, slapping you in the face and leaving you gasping for air. The silver lining? A strategic layering of body wash (because plain soap is soooo yesterday), shampoo, and deodorant might grant you a fleeting 10-minute reprieve—if you can manage to get them into the shower. -
Physical Touch is Their Love Language
My husband and his brothers still engage in wrestling matches well into their 150s combined age. So, why would I expect my boys not to do the same? A playful jab to the arm serves as an exclamation point in their conversations, and they punctuate each sentence with it. The family room often turns into an impromptu wrestling ring, complete with a barking dog and precariously shaking picture frames. They are in pure bliss, simply because they are physically interacting with one another. -
Self-Touching is a Constant
I won’t delve into the details of this one—I’m blissfully ignorant. The saying “Ignorance is bliss” must have originated from a mom raising a teenage boy who had a hunch about his habits but never wanted to confirm them. Their fascination with adjusting and touching themselves seems endless. They often consider wearing just boxers and a t-shirt as fully “dressed” since it allows for maximum comfort and easy access. Enough said. -
Last Names Only, Please
I frequently find myself meeting boys who seem to exist solely by their last names. This creates an awkward scenario when I want to compliment their parents about their sons. I feel a tad insincere when I can’t even recall their first names. My boys have transformed into just “Harper” among their friends. Thus, I often resort to the school directory, repeating names in the car like a mantra until I can finally spit it out without help. Any reference to a first name brings a look of confusion from my sons, as if I’m speaking in an alien language. -
Word Count is Significantly Reduced
In their younger years, my kids never stopped chattering. Now, their word count has plummeted by about 1,000 words a year. By the time they hit 14, only four words remain in their vocabulary: Yes, no, good, and bad. Unless, of course, the topic is sports—then they become animated storytellers with hand gestures and facial expressions that could rival a Broadway performance. If they participated in the game? Add another thousand words and a hefty dose of exaggeration.
So there you have it—insights from a mom navigating the teenage boy years. Good luck to all you parents out there; you’re going to need it!
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