A Gift for Mom! 🤍

I expected the sighs and the eye-rolls and the closed bedroom doors. After all, I was a teenager once, too, and I remember how I treated my parents.

I have managed the exhaustion of incredibly early high school wakeups and late-night texts letting me know they are ready to be picked up and running them all over the countryside for school events and sports and volunteering.

I am trying to deal with the stress and the worry that comes with raising big kids who look like adults but still have so much growing up and life-learning to do.

But what nobody told me about this time, what I never anticipated about these teenage years, was how much I could love them.

Sure, raising a teenager in today’s world is challenging. There is so much pressure on our kids to succeed while their hormones are surging and their brains are still developing.

They can lash out, overreact and then enact the silent treatment so quickly that it makes your head spin. Trust me, with three teenagers under my roof, I’ve seen it all. Anyone who has been through it knows it is the hardest stage yet.

But let me share a little secret, friends, about this difficult stage, this time when your baby is trying to break free from your grasp, when your fledgling is trying to fly the nest: it’s my favorite.

Yes, you heard me right. These teenage years? They can be the best yet.

Because this is the time we sit on the couch late into the night and talk for hours about life. I confess my adolescent mistakes with my daughters and why I don’t want them to repeat them; they share their hopes and their dreams, and we talk about how they could get there.

Because this is the time we watch my favorite old movies like “Pretty in Pink” or “The Breakfast Club” with tubs of popcorn sitting in our laps, and they love the exact same lines that I did at their age. We can read the same books and go to fancy restaurants and watch the same shows. I torture them with my music, they torture me with theirs.

Because this is the time they start developing opinions about life and they challenge me to see things differently. This is the time I see the enormous depth of their hearts and the vast potential of their young minds, their wicked sense of humor and their quick wit. This is the time when they know how to do stuff and take care of things, even though they often choose not to do it.

Because this is the stage I can be there for them—I mean, really be there for them, unconditionally.

I can help mend broken hearts and manage disappointments and build confidence and pour so much love into them they never forget their self-worth. I am still their parent, but we are also starting to build a friendship I cherish.

Because this is the time I get to see the people they are becoming while still seeing my past. I get a front-row seat to watch my own fuzzy caterpillar turn into a butterfly seemingly overnight.

Now, if you are in the thick of it like I am, don’t think my kids are any different than yours. These teenage years are hard, perhaps even the hardest ones, in this raising kids program.

But nobody talks about how much you can love these years, either. Nobody tells you how lovely it is to watch your kids transform into adults right before your eyes, how your relationship will develop into something beautiful, how even though you miss your baby, the man or woman you raised who is standing before you will make your heart swell until it feels like it will burst. And, well, this new stage can be pretty amazing, too.

Because even though I sometimes think these teenage years may break me—like I felt all the stages before this might have, too—well, they are my favorite.

At least until whatever comes next.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Whitney Fleming

Whitney is a mom of three teen daughters, a freelance writer, and co-partner of the site parentingteensandtweens.com You can find her on Facebook at WhitneyFlemingWrites.

Letting You Go Is Still So Hard

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Walkway toward water at sunset

Nothing really prepares you for the day your child leaves the house. Last September, my husband and I moved our 18-year-old son into his dorm room. Right after that, he was swept away into all things orientation, and we began our 1,000-mile journey back home. Leaving this beautiful human I raised and spent all those years with felt foreign. During our final hug goodbye, despite trying to hold in my pain, I broke out in huge, ugly, guttural tears. Our drive home was a long two days. It took every fiber of my being not to turn around. Returning to...

Keep Reading

Behind Every Smiling Graduate Is a Mother Letting Go

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Mom and grown son smiling

Every year, millions of American families send their children off to their freshman year of college. Their pictures dot our social media feeds. Images of excited students holding collegiate pennants, maybe wearing a hat or holding up their school’s hand sign with beaming smiles. Their parents post excited words about futures and hopes and dreams. One chapter closing. Another opening. A new beginning. So why am I struggling so much? Why does this feel more like a loss than a gain? Why are my tears always on edge, threatening to spill over each time I think about August and what...

Keep Reading

Life Lessons from My Grown Children

In: Faith, Motherhood
Two women's hands on teacups

“Don’t limit a child to your own learning, for he was born in another time.” – Rabindranath Tagore Quietly communing with a loved one in the early morning hours is such an intimate and precious time. Visiting with one’s grown child when all is dark and still is one of life’s purest pleasures. I remember the conversation clearly. My daughter’s husband, small children, and father were all asleep as we whispered and chatted. She and I are both fidgeters by nature, unable to be still for long. This inner restlessness must be remedied, and we are compelled by biology to...

Keep Reading

As a Medical Mom, I Measure Growth Differently

In: Kids, Motherhood
Little girl climbing outside

In most homes, the marks on the wall are a simple celebration of time passing. They are pencil lines that track how many inches a child has gained since their last birthday. But in our home, those marks represent a much deeper, more complex story. When your child lives with multiple hormone deficiencies, growth is never just “natural”—it is a carefully managed medical achievement. However, as any medical mom knows, the story doesn’t end at the top of the head. It begins deep inside, with a tiny gland that isn’t sending the right signals. Having multiple hormone deficiencies is often...

Keep Reading

Hannah Harper Is Every Mom with Babies in Her Arms and a Dream In Her Heart

In: Living, Motherhood
Hannah Harper American Idol winner sings with her young son on her lap

By now, you’ve probably seen the posts flooding your feed: A young mom. Three little boys. A guitar strap embroidered with her children’s drawings. And a crown. When Hannah Harper won American Idol this week, moms everywhere erupted. And honestly? Same. There is something collective about watching a stay-at-home mom win on such a large stage. The celebrations have been pouring in. Moms, we can do it. She didn’t abandon her dreams. She went for it. And all of that is true, and all of that is worth celebrating. But I want to add something to the celebration. Not to...

Keep Reading

Watching Your Children Build the Life You Prayed For Is Beautiful

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Mother dancing with son at wedding

“I love you, Mom.” “Hmmm?” (A little louder) “I love you.” “I love you too…so very much.” I’d been deep in thought, listening to the lyrics we were slowly dancing to. I knew this moment of ours was supposed to be the time to say all the things, but this boy and I had already said all the things, so the song the deejay played—written by Lori McKenna and sung by Tim McGraw—enchanted our ears: When the dreams you’re dreamin’ come to you When the work you put in is realized Let yourself feel the pride but Always stay humble...

Keep Reading

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Woman and young daughter smiling

Editor’s note: This post discusses child loss Child loss changes Mother’s Day. My 19-month-old, Julia, died suddenly on Mother’s Day in 2024. Three months later, her autopsy revealed she had B-cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (B-ALL, also known as SUDNIC). Julia died a week after we did an embryo transfer at an IVF clinic in an attempt to have a second child. We found out three days after Julia’s death that the embryo did not make it either. Six months later, we did another embryo transfer that succeeded, and I now have an 8-month-old daughter, Lucy Mei (“Mei Mei” means “little...

Keep Reading

If You Give a Mom a Bouquet…

In: Motherhood
Woman arranging bouquet of pink flowers on table

If you give a mom a bouquet… She goes to grab a vase to put it in. As she grabs the vase, she also grabs the duster because she knows the spot for the vase is probably dusty and she has guests coming for dinner. As she begins dusting, she notices the stack of books that needs to go back on the shelf. When she gets to the shelf, she sees the bendy action figures in battle formation that need to go back in the bin. When she gets to the bin, she spots the toy food that needs to...

Keep Reading

Here In the Liminal Space of Parenting

In: Motherhood
Woman in tunnel

It’s Friday night at 8:00. The intermittent snoring of an 80-pound lap dog is the only thing slicing through the silence of my home. It feels empty, and there is a stillness in the air. I have nowhere to be; there is nobody waiting to be picked up. I’m staring at the empty takeout boxes from dinner sitting on the coffee table. There was no need to cook a big meal; it was just the two of us, my husband and me, sitting together wistfully in this liminal space of parenting. It is the quiet place between an empty nest...

Keep Reading

Mothers Are the Givers

In: Motherhood
Mom embracing young daughter

As we were decorating the tree last Christmas, my son dug to the bottom of a box and pulled out a Snoopy ornament. He set it off to the side quickly and continued his rifling. But I noticed the faint crack along the red jukebox that Snoopy stood beside. In an instant, I was standing back in the kitchen of our first home watching my son wander in to ask, in the cutest toddler voice, if he could “pwess” the button on the ornament to play the music. With gleeful excitement, he pressed too hard. The ornament slipped from his...

Keep Reading