Welcome to the Club

My sister called me this morning and asked me to lie to her. I don’t like to lie. I’m not very good at it and I honestly find the truth to be much more incredible, hilarious, and easier to keep up with. But she begged. So I did.

I told her that my husband and I were living the dream in our home with five kids (ages 16, 17, 18, 20, and 21) decorated with hearts, butterflies, and rainbows and that all that stuff we’d heard about how difficult these years would be is just a big box of hot air bought and paid for by pharmaceutical companies pushing their Xanax dreams. I told her that her two lovely early teens would be mature, pleasant, helpful, drama-free, productive members of society all throughout their teen years, just like mine have been and continue to be. I offered her my Groupon savings for unicorn rides at the next Mother-of-the-Year Awards Gala event.

And then I told her that they may want to consider upgrading that wine cellar they have and I’d be her designated driver if she needed to restock. Or I could load all the 12-step program meeting locations into her iPhone next time she came by here.

The truth is Dr. David Walsh wasn’t even remotely exaggerating when he wrote about the whole “teenage brain” thing. They are incapable of making rational and mature decisions. They’re just not equipped to make them. And it requires a hella lot of patience to stand by and point out why the choices they’re making are dumb or not well-thought-out or insane or whatever adjective you want to stick in here.

So, when my sister called and asked me to lie to her about this inevitable phase in her childrearing life, I did. I laughed all the way through it. But I did it because she just needed a little 30-second break from reality. Before hanging up, she said for me to tell my husband hi. He didn’t miss a beat when he replied, “Hi back. And welcome to the club.”



Definition of Teenager

As a frazzled mother of five kids under the age of 7, everyone I knew who had kids older than mine would tell me how it gets easier when they’re older. One of the side effects of Prozac, apparently, is selective memory. Those women are a giant pile of fucking liars.

The TRUTH is this:  Teenagers are nothing more than toddlers who can wipe their own asses. Everything else is exactly the same.

Symptom:                 Toddler                         Teenager

WHINING?                Yes                                Yes

TANTRUMS?             Yes                                Yes

DRAMA?                    Yes                                 Yes

NEED HELP 24/7?   Yes                                  Yes

WIPES OWN BUTT? No                                   Yes

That pretty much sums it up. I should know. I have had 5 toddlers. I now have 5 teenagers. My house is full of 3 non-thinking, testosterone-oozing, shouting, smelly, man-boys, 2 non-thinking, overly dramatic, menstruating, shouting, not-as-smelly woman-girls, and I’m perimenopausal.

My poor husband doesn’t stand a chance.