Ah, my baby boy. Born to me in 2004 when I was 23.
He was an accident, I got pregnant after being with his dad for only 6 months.
For the most part, I enjoyed being pregnant with him. I was only sick for a very short time, only the first 3 months.
I enjoyed feeling him moving around in my belly, he would put his legs up into my chest cavity, where it felt like they were in my lungs and then stretch them as far as he could.
I was so excited when he was born, but very scared because I had no idea what to do or what to expect.
He was a healthy and happy little baby, so beautiful and precious. I didn’t know what that tiny little baby could do to my anxiety level. I had no idea of the powers that little baby could wield, that he would give me the inability to sleep at night, melt my heart in one moment and make me want to pull my hair out the next.
I didn’t understand love, until the day he came into my life.
Parenthood to me has been a roller coaster of feelings and emotions I never imagined I could have. It’s difficult to love someone so much more than yourself, and then have them tell you that “Grandma’s mac & cheese tastes so much better than yours does”, and still love them as much as you did before they opened their mouth, shamed your cooking, and broke your heart.
I question the fact that he is actually my kid, he is very good looking, smart, and very social. He has many friends, part of a fairly popular crowd, he loves to be active and do things outdoors. If it wasn’t for others always saying that he resembles me, I would have taken him back to the hospital and demanded the correct baby. Will they take babies back after 14 years?
Because of extenuating circumstances, my son doesn’t live with me. He lives about an hour away, in the next town over, with his father.
It broke my heart the day he asked me if he could live with his dad, and it crushed my heart into a million pieces the day it became permanent.
He may not live in the same house I do, but I still treat him as if he does. He is a part of me, my first born. He was my first real adult accomplishment. I make sure that he understands that he will never be rid of me. I will track him down, trace his foot steps, and find him, no matter where he goes.
I see him just about every weekend, that his friends are unable to hang out with him, and I make him spend school holidays with me.
At this sweet age of 14, I can understand how important friendships are to him, and how lame a mother’s love can look to those friends.
See, I say that I can understand how important friends are, but what I really mean is that my heart hurts when he hasn’t seen me in two weeks and would prefer, instead, to go to the movies with Tyler. I “understand”.
What I don’t understand is when I tell him to do something, and then find that 5 hours later that task was never done. I go ask him about said task and he tells me “Don’t worry, I’ll do it”, so I tell him to “do it now!” And he replies, “Stop yelling at me, it’s not a big deal.”
So I calm down, maybe I am over reacting. He’ll do it. He told me he would.
Cut to the next day.
The task was never done. Mom looses her mind. She yells at her son. He says he forgot… He gets up and gets it done while I stare at him with flames shooting from my eye sockets.
Cut to a week later.
The teenager asks his mom for a favor, to bring him his outdoor shoes so he doesn’t mess up his brand new, very white, Nikes to go dirt biking.
I seriously consider forgetting the shoes to teach the boy a lesson, but I don’t want to be an a-hole on purpose. I decide to turn this into a teaching opportunity.
I explain to the boy how angry he would be if I had forgotten the shoes. Very very irrationally angry. I describe to him how I get irrationally angry when he forgets about the things I ask him to get done.
It takes a minute for it to sink in, but then I kind of see a lightbulb turn on, and his expression changes. He tells me that he “understands” what I’m trying to say.
I am still waiting to see if my son has absorbed any of that vital to stay alive information I passed along.
I really hate how this makes me think back to my childhood and question if I made my parents feel the same way.
My teenage son doesn’t live with me, and that scares me.
If you’re a mom, or in a similar situation, you can imagine how you’d feel if your child was not with you everyday; to watch over, to make sure they eat right, to teach life’s lessons, and to them help with homework (that I, myself, don’t understand). You know, the usual mom crap that we all enjoy.
I worry about these things all of the time. I wonder if he’s actually using soap to clean his body and shampoo/conditioner (or possibly a 2 in 1) when he bathes. I have to be concerned if he’s even brushing his teeth on a regular basis. But, as any parent of a teen knows, there is never a promise that their kid isn’t just using water to clean their smelly bodies or just water to brush their teeth, they’ve got more important things to do with their time. In and out, as quickly as possible, is the name of the game when is has to do with something they don’t really want to do.
Probably one of the many, many, many things I’m concerned about, because I don’t see him every day, is the amount of effort he’s putting into school and his grades.
He, being a social sort of fellow, has always had an issue with talking and socializing with friends during class.
Since kindergarten, his teacher’s #1 complaint has always been talking. How can anyone have so much to say?
And then he gets in my car, in my house, or I call him on the phone and it’s like I’m talking to a mute… I get “yeah, uh huh. Ok Mom.”
I get it, I hated school. But school is not in place to make sure we all have a good time.
He doesn’t seem to understand that.
So I, from living an hour away, am still capable, and willing, to put the Iron Fist of The Concerned Mother down.
With the threat of canceling of his xbox membership along with promise of the destruction of his social life, I am able to make sure he understands where his priorities should be.
You can see that, despite the fact that he is not with me, I am still able to be a somewhat present, constantly communicating, “understanding”, teacher emailing, caring, supportive, rule defining mother from afar.
My teenage son is handsome and it frightens me.
I was hoping that he would have some sort of adolescent, pre-teen to eighteen, hormonal disfiguring characteristics that would help keep the opposite sex at bay until the appropriate age came along. Where at that time, his body would start to morph into a handsome young man, but only when the time was appropriate for him to move his attentions away from his studies and into a reasonable and responsible relationship.
My 14 year old son is tall, thin but muscular, has beautiful hazel brown eyes, thick eyebrows, long eyelashes, he’s going to have a rockin smile as soon as his braces come off, and now sounds like a man.
He would also say that he has good taste is clothes, but I would beg to differ. He has expensive taste in clothes. I have to shop clearance to purchase jeans that normally would buy me 1/2 of a weeks worth of groceries, but the jeans look like they were dug out of the dumpster.
He used to have shoulder length hair that made him look, from the neck up, like a desperate teen in need of conditioner and a comb. And then about a year ago he got his hair cut. I regret it now, asking him over and over again to get it cut, because his short hair makes his beautiful face more noticeable to pretty young girls out to take my son’s innocence away.
Though he doesn’t like to talk to his sweet and totally “understanding” mother about girls or the relationships that he may, or may not, have. I do hear him discuss these things between his friends. Sometimes he’ll tell me stories about his friends and their soap opera-like relationships.
He talks about relationships as if he is 30. He calls it “dating”.
“My friends Ethan and Caden got in a fight because Ethan hit on Emily during lunch. Caden and Emily have been dating for 3 months, they’re pretty serious” type of talk.
I have tried to explain to my 30 year old teen that you can not “date” someone unless you are able to take them out on an actual date, not just practice your kissing skills behind the lockers at school.
“I would go on a date, but you or dad won’t take me anywhere!”
Darn straight, kiddo. Ain’t no way in this life time I’m taking you and a girl out somewhere unless I’m going to be there with you.
“That’s so lame, mom. Why can’t you just trust me!?”
My son has actually been sans girlfriend for sometime now, and I’m happy with that.
He doesn’t like talking to me about it, and quickly tells me there’s no one at school that he likes, when I bring it up. I just hope he’s scared of the opposite sex.
I try to tell him on a regular basis to make sure you know someone well before you go entrusting your heart to them, that relationships are serious business, and can mean serious feelings. I have also thoroughly explained to him how crazy girls can get and it only gets worse as we get older. I think his father has also expressed the same opinion.
My teenage son shocks me because he is smart.
His intelligence is shocking only because he does not use his brain for the things he should, like school, making good decisions, listening when he is told to do something, and the benefits soap can provide.
My kid is lazy, that’s how I know he is his father’s son. He would prefer to barely glide through his classes at the lowest possible grade than put his mind to work and seeing how good he could actually do.
Like I said before, he is social. He goes to school to hang out with his friends.
It scares me to think that he will continue to just piddle his way through life if he doesn’t start taking school seriously and further his education beyond just graduating high school.
I got a job at 16 and moved out when I was 18, I never thought about exploring more beyond high school. I myself, despised school. I was eager to get out, and now I’m barely getting by. Sure, I have all the necessities in life, and I’m grateful for everything that I have, but I try to use the facts to make sure he understands the importance of education and the benefits it can provide:
-I can’t buy you everything you want because I don’t have the money to do so because of my horrible life choices.
-I can’t buy you everything your precious heart desires because your grades suck. I don’t reward suck.
-I can’t afford your annual xbox membership, because I thought I would be able to afford life at minimum wage.
-You won’t be able to afford any type of membership anywhere if you don’t do well in school.
-No I can’t take you and your girlfriend on a date because I don’t have any money until next payday (again, poor choices…yadda yadda, yadda)
-No girl will ever want to go on a date with you because you don’t make enough money and can’t afford a car. No one wants to go on a date riding on the handlebars of your bicycle.
You just can’t argue with the facts.
I do what I can with my fear tactics of life and I use the power I wield over his social life and wifi password for making sure he keeps his grades up.
My teenager is very social and loves doing things with his friends outdoors, this is terrifying.
I don’t know about you, but when my son tells me he wants a dirt bike, I immediately picture him having an accident and my instinct tells me to answer him with a strong and resounding “NO”.
It scares me to death. My mind gets filled with horrible and horrifying images whenever he’s out riding with his friends.
I understand that millions upon millions of people ride bikes of all kinds on a daily basis without getting hurt. But, from the day we took the training wheels off of his bicycle to today, all I think about are the possible ways he’s going to get hurt if he’s not in my sight.
My anxiety actually gets worse if I watch him, because I don’t want to see him get hurt.
My mind is a constant whirlwind of “What Ifs”.
What if a car comes speeding around the corner?
What if he rides over a large hole in the ground, then gets thrown off the bike?
What if he tries to do a stupid trick?
What if…..the brakes go out?
What if….. the gas tank blows up?
I really hate all of these thoughts. So I try and replace the “What Ifs” with “I Knows” instead.
I know he wears a helmet.
I know he was taught by his friend’s dad, who would never let the boys get hurt on one of his dirt bikes.
I know my son is careful…. He tells me he’s careful.
But I also know my son is just a dumb teen out playing with his dumb teen friends, doing dumb teen things. I know because I used to be a dumb teen too.
They also like to build forts and go swimming, and all kinds of other stuff boys do that are not as dangerous as dirt bikes. And I know they do stuff that they don’t tell their parents about. Dumb teen stuff.
I’m happy he’s outside and having fun, he would rather be outside any day over playing those brain retarding video games. But sometimes I would prefer he be inside with the games and not outside in the danger. That’s horrible of me, isn’t it?
Yeah, I know.
What panics me the most about my teenage son is the eagerness he has to get a job.
Over these past few years my son has been badgering me with questions about how to get a job. When do you get paid? Will he get minimum wage? How many hours can he work? etc.
He has also been voicing his interest in moving out of his fathers house and living on his own when he turns 18, which has quieted down a bit since I tried to scare him with the reality of bills, full-time work, and being trapped in both for the rest of your life if you don’t think about a decent career path, and stay at home while you take your sweet time coming to that decision.
Now he wants to get a job so that he can buy his own stuff, mainly shoes.
He wants to be able to buy his own stuff because, as he says, “I’m tired of always asking us for money and you tell me no.”
No, son. I will not buy you everything that your lazy, handsome, smart but don’t use it, heart desires.
No son. I will not take you to the mall to buy clothes. Your birthday is in 3 months.
No son. I will not buy you McDonalds or Panda Express, I just made dinner.
No son, I will not purchase those Yeezy Boost 350 shoes that cost $550 (they are so ugly!) EVER!
The boy has an abnormal love of shoes that has grown, along with the price of these shoes, over that past 2 years. He has a complete girl fit if anyone gets his brand new pair of white Nikes dirty. It’s actually pretty funny to watch. Oh, the many things that boy has destroyed of mine over these last 14 years. I just smile.
He thought he would be able to get a summer job this year, but our state laws say not until he’s 16, which I am grateful for. I want him to finish his experiences of being a child before he goes into the work force. Plus, a few years of high school might do him a bit of good on the whole “lazy” issue he’s having. The kid has plenty of shoes now, there’s no rush for him to get a job just so he can’t put his money into a $500 pair of shoes.
I can’t wait until he gets a minimum wage job and then realizes how long and hard he has to work to get that paycheck. I want to see his face when he realizes how much of it goes into taxes. And then realizing, when that money is gone, he’s got to work another 20-40 hours before he can get another paycheck.
It will be a sweet day in Welcome to the Real World, for me.
I remember when I moved out at 18. I am still dealing with the snowball of consequences because of that decision. I don’t want my son to make the same mistakes I did.