Having a teenager is similar to having a newborn all over again. I sort of knew what I was getting involved with, but not really. The vague outline was there but not all the minute to minute details about how much it was going to suck. With a newborn I didn’t grasp how much it was going to hurt to get no sleep whatsoever or exactly how painful scabby nipples would be after a toothless human sucked all the skin off of them in ravenous searches for food. A teen is little better. He is supposed to be in one spot when I go to pick him up and when I call on the cell phone to tell him I am two blocks away he informs me he and his friends decided to go to somebody’s house. I don’t know this person. I don’t know where they live. Loren’s answer: well he lives up that one hill just around that one corner with the brown house on it. Yep. Or when I ask him to clean his room for the 28th night in a row I might find all his crap piled in his sister’s laundry hamper and all the trash simply scooted behind his computer monitor. And the mood swings. Fuck. They are nearly as bad if not worse than the crusty nipples. The mood swings are killing me. He bitches and moans and whines like nothing else.
Tonight I forced Loren to attend Ash Wednesday Mass with me. Cass and Devon are with their dad tonight so Loren had the choice of cleaning his room or getting dust on his forehead. He must really not want to clean his room if he chose church over tidying. The sermon was on how no single person is the center of the universe and how we need to spend Lent scooting our asses away from the center and making room for the rest of the world. I wanted to jump up and scream, “Holy effing yes! I get it! I sooooo get it!” Instead I pinched Loren on the knee and got an eye roll of an acknowledgment.
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