As a mother of nearly 13.5 years, one phrase has defined my journey: "I was not warned." It's rivaled only by "Let me sleep, damn it!" and "I love you so much, my little hearts."
No one prepared me for the delivery room realities—hypoglycemia and exhaustion over instant ecstasy. Or that the baby blues aren't just music. Babies do sleep, but in 10-minute bursts.
I wasn't warned about the emotional rollercoaster: the endless crying, pure joy, more tears, aching longing, overwhelm, constant worry. And it intensifies.
Sure, well-meaning parents of older kids chime in with "Enjoy it! Little kids, little worries." But when you're buried in paperwork, nanny schedules, and doctor visits—head in the chaos, not on a pillow for four straight hours—those words fall flat. You have real struggles too.
Both sides are right. Parenting isn't a competition for the biggest worries. As Norman says, there's always worse or better—despite social media's highlight reels.
Scrolling Instagram's polished "instamums," one in 100 photos hints at the mess and fatigue. We laugh, but we get it. Especially as parents of young teens.
Two middle school years down—flown by like a Concorde, crash and all. I thought I was prepared, open-minded, knowing life's unpredictability (don't drink fountain water or sell the bear's skin). But it's tough.
I barely recognize her. I've devoured books on adolescence since my own was different. I understand the confusion of these years, yet I worry, search for answers, yell, cry, rage. No manual exists—just like with infants.
Motherhood unfolds daily, adolescence included. You question your parenting: What went wrong? Why the opposition to her former self—and to you?
You mutter like a child, "This is so unfair." Adolescence is a tsunami—waves of emotion upending your hard-won balance. Brief clearings of joy are treasured fiercely, though the falls hurt more.
Not every family rides the same waves, and I know there's worse ahead. Still, it hurts deeply—hating behaviors, not her, as they disrupt family harmony and drive us mad.
We're navigating blindly, trying everything: test and learn. No giving up. My latest read, My Teenager, My Battle by Emmanuelle Piquet, offers fresh perspective. I'll share if it works.
