One of my children texted me an angry message the other day, and it took a bite out of my heart. It’s the kind of thing that happens occasionally when you have teenagers.
Because I was hurt, my instinct was to text my feelings back. But I’m learning: I carefully put my phone away in a zipped pocket of my purse. Though my child was in the wrong, I would still be right if I waited an hour. I could do my correcting then, after my emotions (and my teen’s) had quieted down.
Waiting improved the likelihood that I would handle the situation in a way that would allow my words to be heard. When I did text back, I did so with gentle remonstrance. In return I got a genuine, “I’m sorry, Mom.”
I’ve survived seven years of being a mom-of-teens, and (oh my!) I’ve still got a decade to go. Slowly I’m beginning to grasp that the hardest part of parenting adolescents isn’t them, it’s me.
It’s learning to shut up when I want to lash back, to be patient when I feel the urge to protest or lecture, and to respond to my kids’ hearts before reacting to their behavior.
I find it kind of funny that God has set things up so that part of what helps my kids grow out of the “it’s all about me” stage is to make it all about me: about my self-control, my assertion that I want to grow in faith, and my willingness to set aside my desires in order to treat others with love.
No wonder being a mom of teens is a bumpy ride.
