Lately, I feel as though there should be an announcer in our home, yelling over a microphone,”Let’s get ready to RUMBLE!”
I say something, I get a snarky comment. I make an observation, I get a rude look. I ask for something to get done, I get an argument. I demand for something to get done, well, let the battle begin.
Nothing is easy lately- not that it ever really WAS, but it certainly isn’t getting any easier. People told me it would get easier once kids get older, but now I have to ask- how old? 13? 16? 18? 21? The day they have their own kid hit their tween years and they get it? HOW OLD???
I can’t even ask for a simple request of,”Can you please put your dishes into the sink?” without it turning into a throwdown worthy of Pay Per View. Suddenly, I’m the witch from a thousand Disney movies, all rolled into one horrifying mother figure, all because I’m trying to teach my son skills that will keep his future wife from maiming and/or killing him.
Its a scary thing, puberty. If the changes could JUST be confined to his voice, we could all just have a laugh and call it a day, but no. Suddenly, along with the hair, height and hilarity, there are evil things called “Hormones” lurking about. Testosterone runs wild, waiting for the chance to take a joke too seriously, overreact to an everyday situation, or duel to the death over an imagined injustice.
Its enough to make a mom want to throw up her hands and ask,”Brangelina have adopted so many kids- maybe they’d be interested in 1 more…?”
And, I know, “This too shall pass”, but- really? You’re going to put your brother in a head lock because he messed with your deck of Pokemon cards? Come on.
Soooo… yeah. Now that puberty has hit, its apparent that everyday will be a battle; sometimes us parents will win; sometimes heads will roll; but in the end, I’m almost certain the hubby and I will win the war and our obnoxious tween will come out a mature young man.
I think. I hope.
How long does puberty last again?