Yesterday I had a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.
One word: teenager.
There. I don't have to write anything more because I am sure all of you will instantly and totally understand. But I will write, because I need to vent. And I want to be petted, and flattered, and reminded what a great Mom I am (and the fact that I am soliciting these compliments makes no difference whatsoever).
When I was pregnant I had nine months . . . NINE MONTHS . . . to prepare. I studied What to Expect When You're Expecting; then there was What to Expect: The First Year, and What to Expect: The Toddler Years. I even had Il Bambino, an Italian version of Dr. Spock's book on child-rearing.
So, I was armed and ready to combat first colds, diarrhea, play dates, Barney, and projectile vomit.
It was a foundation that served me well even as they grew and started Kindergarten, primary school, and eventually moving on to middle school.
But then, out of no where, I was blindsided.
I ask you, where along the way did we teach our son to be sullen, grumpy, incommunicative, rude and disrespectful? Because I can assure you that these fine qualities were not taught by us.
And yet, one fine morning our son woke up and there they were.
I guess the most perplexing and frustrating thing is that I don't know what in the heck I am doing. Where was What to Expect: The Teen Years because, I tell you, it would have been nice to have been forewarned.
Instead, I have been winging it.
This morning, after yesterday's terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day, I cast out my net seeking inspiration and wisdom. It came in the form of John 20:21, Peace be with you. The commentary explained that peace isn't the absence of conflict; rather, the peace that Christ offers can be found in the reality that exists when heaven and earth "connect".
Hmmmm. How about the reality that exists when parents and teens collide...that would be more accurate.
Okay, peace. I know it's there, just as I know my son is there.
Like when he apologized this morning.
It took a little work, but I did find that peace, and with it came this bit of wisdom: a working teen doesn't have time to be sullen. Brilliant! So this afternoon our son raked the backyard . . . which is rather large . . . and has lots and lots of trees . . . that have shed lots and lots of leaves.
It took him a while and, believe it or not, he did it rather cheerfully . . . for a teen.
Peace. I'll take it any way I can.