I love teenagers. I really do. I have them. I write for them. I've even mentored them. I love their sweet vulnerable insecurities. I love their blustering and posturing. I even love the way they change their minds about things depending on the set of circumstances they find themselves in.
I do not like the way my own particular set of teens expects me to rescue and save them from everything. "Mom, I left my makeup at my best friend's house, get dressed at 5:30 am and run over and get it!" "Mom, I have to be there in fifteen minutes and I know I forgot to put it on the calendar or tell you, but I have to or I'm off the team and I need a fifty dollar check, too!" Or my personal favorite, "Mom, my teacher hates me. Go beat him up!"
I know, I know. I've read the books. It just seems like independence is two steps forward and five steps backwards, right over the top of me. I am ready for empty nest syndrome. Of course, I'll probably bawl like a baby, but right now, it's looking pretty good. I'll probably never leave the house again!