Terrible Teenage Years

Kids are great, particularly at about 2 or 3 years old.  At this age they are still cute, they can use the bathroom themselves, and they still idolize you.  Something happens around 12, that they either become oblivious idiots, if you have boys, or snarky attitude riddled jackasses, if you have girls.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids, but boy do they try my patience daily.

The boys can’t seem to remember anything, they would forget their head if it weren’t screwed on.  I do not remember being that oblivious, but I am sure my parents have some stories to tell.  The boys can’t seem to get their homework turned in, and no matter how close they are to failing, they still procrastinate and fail to manage their time properly.  They would rather stare at the ceiling than open a stupid book, you can take everything away, and they will go up to their room and just stare at the ceiling.  Trying to motivate the boys is almost impossible, you name it I have tried it.

The girls on the other hand just can’t seem to ever be happy.  Even when they are smiling there is a “but” coming your way.  Everything must be debated, ask a girl to do something, be prepared to have a long discussion about why they shouldn’t do it.  Even when you give them what they want, it still isn’t good enough.  Girls seem to always be looking over the fence and wanting the neighbors house, because that grass is just so freaking green, you just don’t understand how green it is.

To be fair, I anticipated all of this, so I set the bar really low for my kids.  I don’t give them what a lot of my peers do.  My kids must get jobs and do chores, to be able to earn their privileges.  They pay for their own cell service, because the 80s and 90s were a thing, and we all survived.  I want to promote communication, and not seeking forgiveness instead of permission.  They want to drive, they better have a job to pay for the gas, insurance, and maintenance.  They want to play sports after school, and they aren’t 16, then they need to maintain my house.  I support them in whatever they do, I believe they must learn to be responsible, and they everything they want has a cost. 

At the end of the day, I just don’t want my 40-year-old kids living with me.  Some people might be ok with that, and that may be fine for them.  But one day I won’t be here, so I want them to be able to take care of themselves.