parenting blues

Exhausting.
Rewarding.
Comical.
Lonely.
Time consuming.
Lovely.
A pain in the rear.
Life giving.
Emotional.

Yes.

All of the above.

Parenting is ALL of that.  And about a thousand things besides.

I don’t have a plethora of experience with teenage boys, but I’m having a crash course in teenage girls.

It’s ridiculous to compare.  And nearly impossible to stop one’s self from doing it anyway.

So many bits and pieces of life as a whole were entirely different when I was parenting my first teenage daughter.

Naturally, she had her own personality to bring to the story.  Her own story to add to ours.  And – of course – there was an “ours”.  Two parents do things differently than one parent.  Jobs were different.  We lived in a literal different house.  She had five much younger siblings.

And now I have two teenage daughters.  A mere five months between the both of them – and still a great chasm too.  Because they are different humans.  One is not the other.  Just as it should be.

And I am different too.

Yes – different house.  Different job.  Different ages of their younger siblings.  And different marital status.

All playing a role.

Still.  This game is a tricky one.  This task is non linear. Unpredictable.  It’s like when you have a newborn baby and you finally get her to sleep through the night.  You rejoice.  You congratulate yourself on a job well done.  You toast with champagne and some of the bags under your eyes fade away.

It’s a glorious couple of minutes.

And then along comes . . .

a growth spurt
daylight savings time
a cold
mastitis
a house guest

and all the eye circles return and you wonder why you ever thought you should be allowed to raise a human child.

Yes.  That.

Those are the teenage years too.

I’m not afraid of them.  In fact, ninety percent of the time – I love them.

Real conversations.  Genuine laughter.  Hobbies in common.  Kids who cook and clean and fold their own laundry.  Who take out the kitty litter and create newspapers for fun with their friends.  Who laugh at your jokes and share your sweatshirts.

That’s all the good stuff.

But the post midnight breakdowns.  The truly difficult conversations.  The heartbreak that they have and you carry for them and they finally fall to sleep and you lie in bed, eyes wide open.  The rise and the fall of a myriad of emotions.  The questioning your authority and your systems.  It’s swimming in unknown waters.  In the dark.  Without a life jacket.

And I’m guessing it’s probably just as scary to them as it is to me.

It’s a ride I want to take.  A swim I want to brave.  A journey I want to be on.  A fight I want to be in the battle for.

I’m here.  I’m all in.

But I’m tired too.  

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