Alright here we go again because apparently I’m glutton for punishment.
Parenting through adolescence is currently trying to kill me softly with passive-aggressive sighs and the phrase “you wouldn’t understand” repeated like it’s their new favorite song.
I’m writing this from my couch in Ohio, it’s March and still stupid cold, the dog is farting under the blanket, and upstairs my 15-year-old is blasting some rapper I’ve never heard of so loud the light fixtures are vibrating. Five minutes ago we had World War III because I said his hair looked like a bird nest (it did) and now I’m the villain. Classic.
Why Parenting Through Adolescence Feels Like You’re Losing Your Best Friend
They used to tell me everything. Now I get grunts and “fine.” I miss the days when “how was school” got actual sentences instead of a shoulder shrug that could win Olympic gold in nonverbal communication.
Last Tuesday my daughter came home crying because her friend group “kinda replaced her” (her words). I tried to do the mom thing—hug, listen, wise words. She let me hug for like 3.5 seconds then shoved me off and said “don’t make it weird.” So I sat on the floor outside her door like a kicked puppy for 20 minutes until she cracked it open and whispered “can we watch Gilmore Girls?” Small miracles, people.
The Body Changes Keep Coming and They’re Relentless
My son’s voice still cracks every third word sometimes and he hates it so much he barely talks in public. Then there’s the random limb growth—he’s 6’1 now and his jeans are all floods no matter how many times I buy longer ones. The deodorant aisle at Target knows me by name.
And the hunger. This kid eats like he’s training for the competitive eating circuit. I came home yesterday to find him standing in front of the open fridge just staring like it owed him money. We’re on a first-name basis with the pizza delivery guy.
Things I’m Trying (Some Work, Some Are Total Flops)
- I text him memes at random times. Sometimes he sends one back. That’s basically us saying “I love you” without saying it.
- I stopped asking “how was your day” and started with dumb stuff like “rate today’s cafeteria food 1–10.” Gets more words out of him.
- When he’s mad I just say “I’m here when you wanna talk” and walk away. Used to chase him down for answers—big mistake. Now I let him come to me. Took forever but it’s starting to work.
I still lose my temper though. Last week I yelled “I’M NOT THE ENEMY!” and then immediately felt like the worst person alive. Apologized with Taco Bell. He accepted the peace offering. We’re both flawed humans, apparently.
Dumb Mistakes I Keep Making Anyway
I keep trying to fix things that aren’t mine to fix. Friend drama? I want to call the other mom. Bad grade? I want to email the teacher myself. He hates that. Says it makes him look like a baby. He’s probably right.
Also I still snoop on his phone sometimes. Found nothing bad just a lot of group chats about Fortnite skins and thirst traps he’s too scared to send. Felt gross after. Deleted the app I was using to spy. Trying to trust more. Failing sometimes. Human, right?
Stuff That Actually Keeps Me Sane (Barely)
Walks with the dog after arguments. Cold air helps. Podcasts help more—shoutout to “The Teenage Whisperer” or whatever it’s called, makes me feel less alone.
I joined a local Facebook group for parents of teens. Half the posts are just “send help” with wine glass emojis. It’s comforting in a messed-up way.
And I lowered my standards. If he showers semi-regularly, doesn’t fail math, and doesn’t set anything on fire, we’re good. Perfection died somewhere between middle school and now Parenting through adolescence.
Look I don’t have this figured out. Half the time I’m googling “is it normal for 16 year old to hate you” at 2 a.m. while eating cold pizza. But we’re still under the same roof. We still eat meals together sometimes. He still says “love you” when he thinks I’m asleep.
If you’re knee-deep in parenting through adolescence and feel like you’re drowning, you’re not the only one. Seriously. Comment below if you want—I read them all even if my replies are slow because life.
We’re gonna make it. Probably. Hopefully. With a lot of therapy and takeout.
(Teen reading this: yes I know the dishwasher is full. I’ll do it later. Or you could. Just saying.)
