We Thought We Knew Motherhood… Then We Had Teenagers

I used to think I had this whole motherhood thing figured out. When my kids were little, I was the proud CEO of my well-run household. They listened (mostly). They followed directions (eventually). And when they didn’t, I had a whole toolbox of tricks to get them back in line—whether it was a firm look, a countdown from three, or the classic “Do I need to call Santa?” threat.

Back then, parenting felt… manageable. Dinner was whatever I put on the table, and they ate it without protest (or at least, they knew protesting wouldn’t get them anywhere). Shopping for their clothes was a breeze—Target, a few no-name brands, and they were good to go. Fashion opinions? Nonexistent. Attitudes? Mild. The occasional tantrum was usually solved with a hug, a snack, or a nap.

And oh, they were so cute. They loved us loudly, unconditionally, and without ulterior motives. They would climb into our laps just to cuddle, scribble adorable “I love you” notes, and tell us we were the best moms in the world. Our presence alone was enough to make them happy.

Then, they became teenagers.

Now, every request is up for negotiation, and my well-run household has turned into a constant game of emotional chess. Dinner? It’s a battlefield. I cook, and they sigh dramatically like I just served them a plate of poison. “Why can’t we just DoorDash?” “Ugh, this again?” “Is there anything else?” No, sweet child, there is not.

And clothes? Gone are the days of easy Target runs. Now, their wardrobe must be curated with precision, featuring only brands I’ve never heard of but somehow cost more than my entire teenage closet combined. And heaven forbid I pick out something for them—because, obviously, I have no idea what’s “cool.”

Let’s talk about affection. Once upon a time, they would hold my hand in public. Now? Now, I’m lucky to get a head nod from across the room. Hugs are reserved for desperate moments, and their words of appreciation? Those only come when they need something. “Mom, you’re the best!” is usually followed by “…can I borrow the car?” or “…can I have $20?”

And the language. Oh, the language. Not in a swearing way (although, let’s be honest, that too), but in a way that makes me question whether we even speak the same dialect. “It’s giving…” “No cap.” “Rizz.” What even are these words? And why do they look at me like I have three heads when I ask for a translation?

The shift from cute, cuddly little humans to eye-rolling, sarcasm-wielding teenagers is a wild ride. And some days, I miss those simpler times. But as much as they push our buttons, as much as they challenge us, I know they still need us—just in a different way.

They might not climb into our laps anymore, but they’ll text us at midnight when they need to vent. They might roll their eyes at our jokes, but they secretly love that we care. And as much as they act like we’re the most embarrassing people on earth, we’re still their safe space, their constant, their home.

So, to all the moms who thought they had it all figured out—only to be blindsided by the teenage years—you’re not alone. We’re in this together, one sarcastic text at a time.