I was not prepared to be a mother of teenagers. Sure, I was warned by other parents about the difficult journey I was about to embark on, but I did not expect it to be this challenging.
I remember these two sweet, innocent children who wanted to be with me all the time. Now they barely give me the time of day. How did we get here? Like many parents, we long to have that child who once, a long time ago, called us Mommy and Daddy and begged us to read them another story.
Where are those kids I once knew? Now, I am living with two beings from another planet that I barely recognize. It’s almost like “Invaders of the Body Snatchers.” I almost feel like I will find my kids’ pods somewhere in the house with my sweet children inside, waiting to hug me.
My life now is full of sarcastic comments, slamming doors, and the ever-popular silent treatment. I’ve endured endless eyerolls and being perpetually ignored. I’ve come to the conclusion that teenagers have selective hearing: if it pertains to video games or food, they have perfect hearing; if you ask them to take out the garbage, they suddenly lose their sense of hearing. That just goes with the territory of being a mom of teenagers.
On rare occasions, they can actually be nice. We can have a normal conversation and enjoy being around each other. I value these moments immensely because they don’t happen often. I know deep down inside is still the kid I once knew a loooong time ago.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids with all my heart and soul, and I would do anything in the world for them. As moms, I think we struggle with the fact that all kids eventually grow up. I look back when they were little and feel regret. I wonder if I cherished all those moments? Did I savor those times when my sons asked me to stay and read another book or when they cuddled next to me while watching a movie?
Regret is a strong word, and I use it sparingly, but I do look back and wish I had treasured those little moments I long to have again. I remember the constant fatigue of taking care of two little ones and not wanting to play that extra game or read another book. It’s funny, I would give just about anything in the world to have that back again. If I could go back in time, I would play that extra game of Candy Land or read “The Cat in the Hat” for the zillionth time or even change one more diaper (maybe I wouldn’t go that far, but you get the picture).
Now that my kids are teenagers, those moments are almost non-existent.
I remember other parents telling me that “it goes fast,” and they were right. I feel like they went from newborns to teenagers in the blink of an eye.
There are times they ask to play ping pong or watch a movie together. I will take what I can get because I know these asks will become fewer and fewer.
It’s all a part of life. We teach our children the skills they need to succeed in life. Once our job is done, we have to give them their wings so they can follow their dreams and soar to the highest heights imaginable.
Eventually, they will have their own children, and the cycle will start all over again. We’ll become grandparents and watch our kids with their own children.
I see my little boys turning into men before my eyes, and it is bittersweet. They are independent and self-sufficient, and I know they will excel in whatever they choose to do. On the other hand, my little boys are gone. They still need me, but not in the same way. That is the way it’s supposed to be.
We raised them to be the boys they are today. We taught them the skills they need to be on their own, and that in itself is an accomplishment.
by Whitney Fleming 
by Heather Delaney 
