Teenagers

If there isn't a self-help group for parents of teenagers, there should be.

I have two of them; teenagers, that is. Feel sorry for me. Oh, make no mistake, ultimately they are great kids - and I'm fortunate to have one of each gender. And even though I was one once, I swear as God as my witness I was never as difficult as a teenager as what I see from kids (mine and their friends) today.

My son is 18 and he's a World of Warcraft veteran. He apparently has mad skills as a warrior in a virtual realm, but he's unable to defeat the dirty clothes strewn about his room or conquer taking out the garbage. His lightning-quick reflexes that allow him to battle and crush enemies generated by his computer magically disappear when it is time for him to get up to go to school; not only does he not hear his alarm (which wakes me from across the house), he needs to be poked, prodded, and shaken about ten times before he realizes someone is trying to awaken him. Did I mention that those reflexes are lost as well when he drops his cellphone? He can't seem to hang onto that device while talking, much less catch it when it slips out of his hands and breaks. How can he be so quick on the computer and so slow in real life?

Speaking of my son and his cellphone, times have certainly changed. Back in my day (a phrase I use to swear I'd never use but find myself using all the time), it was the girls who talked on the phone incessantly. Now? It's the boys. My son, his friends, I have no idea what they need to talk about so frequently but he uses more minutes each month than the rest of us combined - and that includes his sister. I read once that the male of the species is getting more feminine over time, since we really don't need for them to go out and kill a tiger with a stick and a rock to provide for a family. Maybe I'm watching evolution as it happens.

On to my daughter. I recognize this creature I see before me, but I'm convinced an alien (or satan) has possessed my daughter's body. Nothing is easy. Even the simplest of events can turn into a drama worthy of the big screen. She can be sweet and even hug me, expressing love; but more often than not, I am the enemy, a lame and stupid entity who knows nothing. She wants to be left alone - that is, until she needs 1) money 2) a ride somewhere 3) money 4) a favor 5) money 6) a new shirt - well you get the idea. She is the star around which the rest of the universe must orbit. Apparently.

I know that someday she'll apologize for being difficult. That deep down she really does (and did) love me. That she couldn't have made it through her tough teenage years without me. And I'll hug her and tell her that she wasn't so bad, because, well, that's what Moms do. We protect our young and care for them and lie to them, all in the name of molding a productive member of society.

I love my kids and couldn't live without them. Well, maybe for a few weeks. Summer camp, anyone?