Here it comes again! 1 3

My first experience with teenagers in the home came from being a youth director at a young age and continuing to be in charge of youth at church for a decade in my twenties. As a young adult, I had boundaries for the children, however, unaware of it at the time, I also had the advantage over their parents that I was their ticket out of the house…..had no idea at the time that compliance to my requests were based on this well known fact:

And here I was thinking I was doing good because the youth ALWAYS said yes. My second phenomena with youth came as a teacher in public schools. Vastly popular as a young teacher, I was closer to their age than their parents. I was strict as a teacher behaviorally, but enjoyed thoroughly getting to know their individual lives and finding creative things to do with them for competitions. Again, I had little understanding that:

So why is it when I remarried and had stepchildren who were at the time 12 and 17, I never saw them coming? Why is it when my son on his thirteenth birthday began volunteering to work with the young choir afterschool Wednesdays, afterschool until 5, I was not suspicious. Such pride and joy I had for 4 fabulous weeks as I thought to myself “I’m rearing the best children/stepchildren in the world…see we’ve done something RIGHT…he v o l u n t e e r s with the children’s choir” Naively, proudly, I was puffed up like a peacock until my brand new stepdaughter at 17, burst the bubble as I was bragging at the fence (the rural Southern internet) on the red headed stepchild for volunteering to our neighbor. My oldest stepchild heard my bragging and promptly plucked my feathers of maternal pride….”HIM? Love Helping? Yeah right, you are SO naive….Choir is his get out of jail card for his chores, Wednesday afternoon is the day you usually make us help you with the house, he goes there, gets praised for it, gets free food, and hangs out with a Mountain Dew the choir director pays for until you pick him up” I simply.could.not.believe.her, how cruel to say, how could she?…surely she was just being mean to my.special.boy….so I asked the red headed golden child(the one who could do no wrong until this point) In a second, his innocent eyes went from twinkling proud with a gleen I should have noticed was a wee bit too bright, too sunny….to that look of a cat hiding a bird in his mouth who has been newly busted by the undercover police….. Yeah, right, I should have known better, but I had been a mother of a teenager, a stepmother even…. for less than 8 weeks at that point, there’s a reason God gives you thirteen years to prepare….I see it now but, I never saw it coming. In my estimation that the boy was steadfast, heartfelt, a future noble peace winner in service to the children of the world…..Uh hmmm..it was the free Mountain Dew and…you guessed it….

Here I am forty four years of age, battle worn and weary, after all three little darlings have taken me previously through the hormonal civil war that their bodies go through in puberty…..I’ve survived the testosterone poisoning that takes over the boy’s brain, causing perfectly well spoken boy children to regress to grunts, humphfs and an inability to turn in completed homework or take out trash without an insurrection. I’ve lived through one female child’s hormonal rages as she rode the rollercoaster of adolescence supremely enough to have us considering investing the college money in a Hollywood apartment and an agent because she had serious contentions for an Academy award in Drama…

..and about the time I have begun to recognize and realize that the patterns of this happened as these formerly sweet children turned thirteen…..I woke up yesterday to the fact that it is less than 90 days until that dreaded transition with the our last child begins … I was sure that this child would NOT be the same as the older three siblings….that her sweetness, purity and light would continue forever…that somehow, we had overcome the natural processes that turn these children into something…well….somehow we could avoid the years of power struggles, identity crises, and homework turning in avoidance…..and I had convinced myself of it too……the rebellion had been prevented, the conflicts avoided…..yahoo, we had learned from our experiences and this child and she was going to be different….then we came home from a perfect afternoon at her favorite thing to do…the Botanical Gardens, got ready for church and in an instant I saw her in the afternoon’s pictures…..there was a flash of instant recognition….I saw it….positive proof in her pictures from the Botanical Gardens…..and then the phone call came…..and I heard my sweet child say in a voice foreign to me, akin to the intonality of a Valley Girl “Yes…..since we got home from the Garden I’ve beeen soooooooooooooo bored (what?? that was 14 seconds ago????) “Sure, I’d love to help you tonight…..yeah, me too, ANYTHING to get out of the house”