Sometimes I can’t help thinking that my teenage son is playing me, but then I think back to my teenage years and I give him the benefit of doubt.
I was having a conversation with a friend recently regarding our children. Specifically, we were comparing notes about their propensity to listening, tidiness, motivation and levels of laziness. Both our children recently stepped into teenage.
This conversation was triggered when I complained about my son’s untidiness and having to repeat something a hundred times before he actually does it. Mind you, he never says no; he readily says yes, in fact, and does not ‘give’ you ‘attitude’ when you ask him to do something.
But a few minutes later, or when you return home in the evening, chances are that you will find he didn’t do what you asked him to do, and when you ask him why, he says that he forgot, sounding shocked that he actually forgot but then promptly gets up and does it. And by doing so I am appeased, and the ‘msomo’ that had been upcoming dies a natural death. Sometimes I think I’m being played, but then again he seems so honest…
Anyway, I was talking about that conversation I was having with a friend, who also has a fresh minted teen. When I was done venting, she exclaimed, “Thank God, I thought I was failing as a mother!”
It turns out that her son was exhibiting similar symptoms, and she thought that her parenting skills were so wanting that she would end up raising a spoilt brat. As we swapped experiences with our children, we found ourselves reminiscing about our teenage years, and it turns out that we were not better off than the children we were complaining about – we were lazy, we slept too much, and went about our duties at home in a grumpy manner, convinced that our clueless parents hated us.
And we had turned out just fine, and could say without doubt that we were responsible adults whose homes were tidy and clean. Immensely relieved, we concluded that there was nothing wrong with our children, and that we hadn’t failed as parents.
That said, what is your home like now that the month-long holiday is over and your children are back to school? I bet that it is quiet, clean and tidy. I cannot even begin to count the number of times I used the words ‘tidy up’, ‘sweep’ and ‘wipe the table’ during this holiday.
I have to admit that I lost my temper once or twice, after walking into a house that looked like a tornado had swept through it, yet the culprits were stretched out on the seats, impervious to the chaos around them, living their best life. I was about to explode when I remembered that in a few years’ time, they will be gone, and the house will always be clean and tidy. And silent. Children grow up, and you and I are testimony to that.
And so I walked around the tornado-like damage, managed to find a spot to sit on and asked them how their day was. Of course they cleaned up later on, but at that moment, I allowed myself to ignore the chaos and simply spend time with them.
