I have officially become a parent of a teenager. I know I’ve actually been the mother of a teenager for over a year now, but this week I realized I’m now the stereotypical Parent Of A Teenager. I have officially lost the ability to listen to my son tell stories from school without turning it into some sort of lecture. He comes home with stories that match many of my own when I was his age. You would think this would allow me to be all cool and commiserate with him. But no. Instead I have to take these stories and find a way to teach the Bigger Grander Lesson. Be Nice. Be Respectful. Do Your Homework. Quit Worrying About Your Hair. Clean Your Room. When I Was Your Age I Walked To School Both Ways Uphill In The Snow While Being Chased By ZOMBIES!
What is wrong with me?
I have also almost found myself making comments about his eccentric style. Luckily, the Mom part of me remembers the Teen side of me quickly and keeps her mouth shut. I think that someone who wore fishnets and combat boots (that were painted with peace signs, of course) in college has NO RIGHT WHATSOEVER to comment on her son’s obsession with hoodies. I wore polyester plaid men’s suit pans for chrissakes. Pants that I bought for 1.25 at a Dig Store. Do you know what a Dig Store is? It’s like a thrift store except that there are NO RACKS. There are just piles of musty clothes on a concrete floor and you literally DIG through them. For several years most of my wardrobe was found at Dig Stores. My most favorite being long black paisley polyester dress that came with a matching jacket. A jacket that was also paisley and polyester. AND I WORE THEM BOTH. So, I just keep my mouth shut because I can’t image him ever making a clothing choice as bad as that I did.
Not that you’ll see me challenging him, of course. I’m not that dumb.