You’d think that with twenty-five years experience raising children; the last one would be easy. Not the case. The problem with having a thirteen year old when you’re in your fifties is that while they’re gaining strength and knowledge and energy, you are losing yours. Let’s face it, he gets pretty much whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. We’ve lost our mojo…I guess we used it up on the other kids. We have figured out at this point that it pays dividends to keep him busy just about every minute after school and on weekends, encourage him with his grades, make quality time for his homework…blah, blah, blah. It’s just so been there, done that…for the 4th time…
I confess, I’m going to have to be dragged to the finish line for this one…here are just a few reasons why…
Driving…really? I’ve got 3 more looong years to wait. Why does he have to have any friends? That means I have to stay up past my 8pm bedtime to go pick him up! Can’t he have some compassion for me?
Cooking…really? We can’t just go out for a glass of wine and a piece of cheese for dinner like everyone else my age is doing? Why does he have to still be growing and requiring nutritional meals of vast quantity? How inconsiderate!
School Work…really? I still have to point out why getting an A is worth the time and effort? It’s not that hard for God’s sake! How many times do I have to repeat the FOIL concept in my lifetime?
“Values”…really? OK, here it is for the 400th time…behave, don’t drink, don’t do drugs, stay in school. Done!
Puberty…really? Again? I want a turn at being hormonal…I WANT MY TURN!!!
I’m noticing how little in common I have with my friends now. They have sent their last one off to college. while I’m sending my last one off to high school. They have the time to go exploring the Galapagos Islands, skiing in France, golfing in Scotland, sleeping in, downsizing to a cute condo on the beach, strolling aimlessly arm-in-arm for the day, wherever they happen to be. They can have 8 almonds, a piece of coconut cake and 2 glasses of Pinot for dinner at 5 o’ clock. They can watch a subtitled movie on a Saturday afternoon or take a nap or have the TV clicker right where they left it.
I guess we’ll have to be content with a chatty, funny, thirteen year old. We’re going to have to tolerate Jalapeno Pringles, “pwning the noobs”, paper towel holders as rocket launchers, gun noises, trying to understand why a “killtacular” is such an achievement, golf tournaments in god-forsaken places, LOUD rap music, nightly wrestlemania (usually right at my bedtime and occasionally ending with someone getting a bloody nose), being the only Mom (amongst a bunch of teenage boys skipping school) waiting in line at Best Buy to get the latest copy of Call of Duty, vats of Mac and Cheese, Cheetos, root beer, beef jerky, hair gel, snarky t-shirts, piles of stinky shoes and Legos everywhere.