Growing Pains

So, the blog has been a little quiet lately, but my brain has been spinning. Time to sit and compose.

Lucky you.

;P

If you've glanced at my sidebar lately, you'll see we now have TWO TEENAGERS in the house...with one more coming dangerously close. I've always vowed that the dreaded teenage years would NOT be that. That we would somehow bypass it all and grow side-by-side in perfect harmony.

I wrote about some of my learned wisdom here.   And, luckily, we've pretty much stayed the course. But here's the kicker.  EVERYONE is growing up. RAPIDLY. So.... that "one teenager" thing? Has now MULTIPLIED... and we are SO TOTALLY OUT-NUMBERED.

(sorry. I think my caps-lock button got stuck.)

Action Man is now 15. 15 is huge.... well, ok, maybe it's just him. HE IS HUGE. Taller than I am, he can barely take me seriously when I issue my proclamations about when he will be home and why he must grace us with his presence for this or that outing. Yes, he smiles and obliges... but it's maddening how I have to look UP to make my demands.

(this is the picture of him I prefer...)

He's had a few...erm...experiences. Harmless and innocent, yes. But totally unexpected and a wee bit... alarming. (When you answer the phone and the voice on the other end says "This is the ..name of city we reside in... POLICE department..." Yeah. I'm earning my gray hairs.)
And when his good friend from school shows up to DRIVE HIM AWAY somewhere??? Well, that's a whole other level of growing-up-trusting-God and Did-that-boy-just-drive-off-with-MY-BABY??? kind of hysteria.

(he prefers this one... Ugh)

 And that's what 15 looks like around here.



What about 13? Well, we've done 13 before. But it looked a lot different. THIS 13 is unique to Sports Fan. First off, it's much more aloof.  It's suspicious and unsure. 13 is still helpful and willing, but definitely just as intolerant this time around. We are surviving it, though.  As an 8th grader, Sports Fan earned himself a spot on the High School Basketball Team at his school. He wore his uniform proudly on game days... and sat the bench patiently. He needed this. To be included, but shown his place. Coach loves him and sees the promise there. They have an understanding, and it worked out beautifully.

(picture for the Mama....)

Sports Fan also has an understanding with our Little Dude. I stand firmly behind my opinion that there's nothing even close in efficiently erasing teenage angst like a toddler. All Dude has to do is say one thing, and the older ones chuckle, all stress gone. Magical to witness. And Sports Fan goes out of his way to cultivate this older brother mentoring.

(See? 13 all the way...)



Then there's 12. Oy. 12 is likely the single most difficult age EVER. It's the nobody understands me, everyone is out to get me, why doesn't anyone listen to me, and why are you all STARING at me!!! ...age.  Fortunately for 12, she is simply adorable. She helps out TREMENDOUSLY. Little (TALL) Dear bakes up a storm and plays with Little Dude. She is, quite literally, my right hand. I leave to go to a sports event, giving vague instructions for mashed potatoes, and when I come home...they're ready to go. It's awesome. Like cloning myself. :)

 (here she is with her mini-Me, Little Love)



Having teenagers is a lot harder than I had imagined, but not in an ALL IS BAD kind of way.  Funny, in all of my "figuring" I just never pondered the reality that my own children would actually be their own person. Have their own personality, complete with likes and dislikes. I've had to be flexible in my mothering....my expectations, and meet them where they're at. Being open and engaging with my kids, keeping the lines of communication open (and praying like mad)...stacks the deck in my favor.

And remembering to SMILE....the passing of time has officially reached warp speed.

Some days it's all I can do to hang on.

:)