Fragile

So it’s a normal Sunday with a teenager…

Me: Would you please help me paint?

Him: grumble, moan, whine

Me: Would you please text me every couple hours and let me know where you are.

Him: whine, grumble, moan

Me: Why does every interaction with a teenager have to be a pain-in-the-ass?

Husband: I know, right?

Parenting a teen has been the hardest stage on this journey I am on, by far. I never realized I had it in me to be so frank with someone about porn, drugs, sex, and many other subjects. I just feel like so much is at stake. And it’s amazing how one minute a teenager can seem so mature and the next like he hasn’t evolved much from the toddler stage.

So yesterday I was experiencing a very common feeling these days of wanting to strangle my son. The eye-rolling, defiant, teen ‘tude was just about to push me over the edge. Then I opened my e-mail and read a note from the high school principal that a boy at his school died yesterday morning when he ran off the road and was thrown from his car. And my heart just ached all day. I just wanted to hug that mother and weep with her. There could be nothing worse than getting a call like the one she must have gotten.  I wondered what was their last interaction like?

When I think about all I have and all I have to lose, it feels like too much to hold sometimes. How do I keep him close and safe and let him go out into the big wide world without me? But that’s what mom’s do, right? I’m supposed to be working my way out of a job… helping him learn to take care of himself and to not need me.

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