Teens 

Some days, I don’t like teen-agers much. Some days, I wonder where my darling little toddler went. Or the five year old who thought I walked on water and was always ready to sit down and do a craft with me or go shopping or was proud of something I’d made for her and would brag to all her little friends about how I loved pets and let her have a puppy and a kitten. She’s still the type of kid who can’t enter a room without every eye turning toward her. She’s always been one of those magnetic personalities. It took me forever to get through the store when she was a baby because of all the people who had to stop and look at her and talk to her. But now there’s this teen thing. Mom’s with grown children told me this is normal. They’ve told me stories of times when they had teens, loving them fiercly but dealing with guilt because sometimes they didn’t like them much. They assure me it’s all part of growing up, gaining independence, and this too shall pass and my sweet toddler is still in there somewhere and to remember that on those “some days.” Problem is, the farther we move into the teens, the more those some days occur. Don’t get me wrong, I have a great kid. I don’t have nearly the problems a lot of parents do. I watch my neighbors have screaming matches with their teen, who’s the same age, as she cusses them out and gets into a car full of boys, sitting on the lap of the boy in the front seat. I see that, and I thank God and anyone who’ll listen that I have the kid I do. But there are still some days………………..