Going through a stage

Written by Jen Monday, 04 August 2008 00:00

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Teenagers bring out the worst in parents. I know this for a fact because I have two teens and lately I've been, well, in a perpetual stage of "freaking out," as my son would say. The latest came after a missed curfew indicated to me that certainly my eldest child was 1) involved in a terrible car accident 2) carjacked in a parking garage 3) lost on the road three states away 4) purposefully ignoring the rules 5) too involved with a female companion to notice the time.

And of course there were slight variations to these options, most involving the sheriff and/or the back seat of the car. I am not proud of such visions but I am a mother and they happen. In my mind (and a perfect world), the grown-ups make the rules and the kids obey-all the time and without excuse. If they are not where they are supposed to be when I say they should be there then it is due to tragedy or defiance.

My husband gently claims that this little game our teens play at times is just "going through a stage." That's a nice way to say they're trying to kill us. Yeah, I know how boys have to seek independence, make their own choices, pull away from mom...yadda, yadda, yadda...

Well, I've decided it's time for ME, the mother, to go through a stage. I call it the I WANNA BE IN CHARGE stage. Here's how it works: I am allowed to freak out at any given moment because I gave birth. Period. That really should be more than enough reason to demand compliance. "The stage" begins when children are born, accelerates as they hit puberty and ends when they leave the house with all belongings and a paying job, whenever that may be. "The stage" gives me the privilege of entertaining all sorts of illogical ideas about what my children may be up to when they're not sitting in front of me fully engaged in an enlightening discussion or at church.

And best of all, "the stage" gives me the freedom to stifle my tears when my son comes home safe, but late because he didn't anticipate construction traffic. He thanks us for letting him have the car for the evening, and goes off to bed baffled by my worry.

Hey, it's just a stage I told him. It's called motherhood and it never ends.