My fourteen-year-old, Lily, storms out of her shared bedroom.
“Mom! Emily threw my blankets on the floor AGAIN! I’ve asked her NOT to do that!”
From the tone of her voice, I can already tell it’s going to be one of those evenings. The kind where swirling hormones meet perceived unfairness, creating a whirlwind I can’t escape. It usually starts with me attempting to reason with her (good luck with that), escalates into a ridiculous argument, and ends with me throwing my hands up in exasperation and probably raising my voice more than I intended. Yep, I know the drill.
Over the years, I’ve nodded along with other mothers as they shared their struggles with teenage daughters. I genuinely thought Lily would be different. I assumed I would handle things better. With her sweet nature and my laid-back approach, I figured we’d be spared the drama that seems to plague so many mother-daughter duos.
But you’d think I would have learned by now that parenting doesn’t quite work that way.
It’s not that she’s a difficult kid; in fact, she’s pretty fantastic. But GOODNESS, the drama! It’s like she’s saving it all just for me. Maybe I should feel honored? Perhaps this is all part of the teenage experience—and I’m sure it is. But man, is it draining. The stomping around, the eye rolls, the sudden mood swings—it’s like living with a mini tornado. The incessant testing of limits and relentless questioning of every rule she doesn’t agree with can be overwhelming.
I love her to bits, but I find myself dreading the hormonal rollercoaster she’s on. I understand it’s a necessary part of growing up, that the pushing and questioning are steps toward independence. But I can’t shake the feeling that time is slipping away and I haven’t prepared her sufficiently for the real world.
I worry that I may have overlooked some crucial life lessons during her childhood. Sure, I know it’s not solely my responsibility to teach her everything. There are experiences she’ll need to navigate on her own. Yet, the fears linger. I’m apprehensive about her stepping into a world filled with mean girls, charming but troublesome boys, and peer pressure. I worry she might make the same mistakes I did—or ones I never encountered at all.
I know I have to trust we are doing our best as parents. Mistakes will happen, and through them, she’ll learn—even if those lessons are tough. I get that.
But I can’t help feeling sad. Sad that she’s growing too big to hold close and soothe. Sad that I won’t always be able to shield her from life’s harsh realities. One day, I’ll blink, and she’ll be off having her own adventures, probably forgetting to check in with her mom. I understand that this is just part of life’s cycle. I realize she won’t grasp the depth of my love until she has children of her own.
When I take a step back, I recognize that much of my frustration is intertwined with my own fears, worries, and sadness. Isn’t that where most parental angst originates? I suspect a lot of Lily’s frustration stems from similar feelings. Growing up is an exhilarating, terrifying, amazing, and confusing journey—I remember that well. I just didn’t realize it would feel the same on the other side of the equation. Now I know.
So when Lily bursts out of her room again, I know the routine. We’ll argue. She’ll roll her eyes. I’ll lose my cool. She’ll stomp off. I’ll vent to my husband, hands on my head.
Then, after we both cool down, we’ll talk and even laugh. I’ll embrace her somewhat grown-up body in a hug. We’ll say “I love you,” and mean it. Thankfully, I’m grateful for that too.
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In summary, parenting a teenager is a rollercoaster of emotions, filled with love, fear, and occasional frustration. While the journey is challenging, the bond remains strong, and the rewards of nurturing that relationship are immeasurable.