I thought I had a good grasp on this teenage parenting gig. I know I haven’t officially been a teen parent all that long; I know there is a long way to go, but I still felt like I knew what was what.
Then the past few days came by. Two parts great, one part WHAT THE?
When I asked The Blue Eyed Boy to walk the dog with his sister he flat out refused. Not in a yeah, in a minute Mum, way. More a look at my face there is no way in hell I am walking the d0g today, way. A way that made me realise we have stepped up a notch in the you can’t make me game. I told him if he did not go I’d remove his iPad and iPhone for the day. He did not budge.
I had a choice, go up against him, yell, fight, say things I would later regret, and still not win or walk away. Walk away it was.
The dog got a walk, with the Green Eyed Girl and myself. He lost the use of his precious iDevices for the day and the night.
When we returned home and walked up to the back door it was locked. We checked the sunroom doors. Locked. I didn’t know whether I should be pissed off, or out and out proud of him for having the guts to lock us out.
He let us in quickly enough. He looked embarrassed. I told him I was two parts pissed off and one part proud. In truth it was the other way round.
Yesterday was his first day of school holidays. The Green Eyed Girl and I still have this and next week. (While Hubby is at home, he has work to do, and is for the most part, down in this office). So, for the first time I left him a note with a household task to do. It was day one of his break after a long, hard year at school, so I went easy on him with just one task.
When we returned home the dish washer was on and he had just showered. Winning. Some housework got done and he spent most of the day online gaming. I’ll ease him into longer lists.
Then, just as I was beginning to unwind on the back veranda, I received a text. From my son. While he was in his bedroom.
Ah, it really has begun. This teenage thing.
I know there will be days when I am three part pissed off. Others when I’ll be three parts proud, and some when it’s a 1.5 split each way.
But at least, at the end of the day, if it all goes wrong, I know he’ll text me from the bedroom and ask what’s for tea.