Are teenagers nothing more than large, articulate toddlers? Fifteen year olds seem to have about as much sense as 15 month olds.
This year has been tortuous as a parent of a teenager. I am tired, frustrated, confused and at my wit's end. I remember my sophomore year in high school and I think I was every bit as unpleasant and pugnacious as my sweet daughter. O I love her to bits and would lay down in front of freight train to save her life, but she does try my patience. Between the teeter-totter grades and the exploits of young, romantic and perilously unsafe love I am ready for the retirement home. There should be a special one for parents who have made it through the teen years.
Now, I am counting each of my bountiful blessings. First I have just one child so that means just one bumpy flight through the teen years. She truly is a good kid. I know where she is most of the time -- 95 percent of the time. She is willing to be seen with me in public. She does not roam the streets after I've fallen asleep at night. And on occasion she is nice to me and is willing to watch a movie together.
But I would not wish these years on any one. I now understand and can empathize with my mother's angst six times over. Tomorrow is her last day of school for the year and I feel older. I implored my sister to study my face and tell me if it's aged. She claims it hasn't. I see that it has. My roots are grayer when they come sprouting up. I think the day after my darling graduates from high school, I will commence my own search for the fountain of youth so I can be renewed.