In the past, there resided a peculiar being within my household. This creature lacked the stereotypical features of an extraterrestrial—no oversized, luminescent eyes or multiple limbs. It didn’t shed its skin at night to reveal a ghostly exterior, nor did it consume nourishment through an orifice in its nasal passage.
However, it did exhibit erratic emotional shifts. In mere moments, this entity could transition from fits of laughter to intense outbursts, often resulting in the slamming of doors. Its communication style was predominantly non-verbal, characterized by eye rolls, shrugged shoulders, and the occasional grunt punctuated with dismissive phrases like “whatever” and “sure.” When it came to food, this being would devour everything in sight, as if convinced it might vanish before reaching its mouth.
If you are cohabitating with such a creature, you are likely familiar with what I refer to as the teenage boy. More specifically, this is the boy who has yet to reach driving age but is too old to be seen in public with his mother.
“Just let me out here, Mom. That’s good enough,” he insists, clearly mortified at the thought of being spotted in the vehicle with a living, breathing maternal figure.
His hormones fluctuated wildly, transforming him into a near-alien, entirely disconnected from our otherwise ordinary family unit. He could consume an entire pack of cookies, two pot pies, and a burrito, wash it down with a quart of milk, and then complain there was nothing left to eat in the house.
He left Jell-O cups under his bed, allowing them to morph into unrecognizable fungi, something no one should have to endure. He was the epicenter of his own alien world, profoundly misunderstood by all who inhabited it.
As time progressed, I began to accept his role in this alien existence. I observed as he grew taller than me, transitioning from footie pajamas to jeans. I listened as he shifted from Muppet melodies to rap music. I moved from bathing his pretend companions to reminding him to take a shower before school.
And it was all fine, really. Except, at that time, I struggled to maintain my identity while he navigated his transformation into manhood. The sight of discarded clothes, the empty box of my favorite snacks, his innocent shrug, and that eye roll would send me into a frenzy. I would catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and see an unfamiliar face. What was happening to me? I would scream in confusion, ranting without clarity.
Logically, I understood the situation. He had reached the stage of life where my own memories began. I could recall the heartaches—like discovering a pimple before a significant date, late-night phone calls, and the racing heart as the boy I admired walked past without notice. The uncertainty, the insecurity, and that relentless drive were all too familiar.
I had once experienced it myself, but that realization alone wasn’t sufficient to ease my struggles. A simple “Thank you, Mom,” a kiss on the cheek, or an “I love you” would have been a welcome gesture.
Surprisingly, those moments did occur. When I least expected it, he would plant a gentle kiss on my cheek. Yet, almost instantly, he would revert to communicating with his imaginary spaceship.
At times, I would even pray for a different scenario. “Take him away to grow up, then bring him back,” I would plead, hoping he would return taller, wiser, and with little ones of his own. Eventually, it happened. He matured.
Upon entering his now-empty room, I was met with echoes of his past presence—the beeping of video games, whispers in the dark, and the heavy bass reverberating against the walls. Standing in the remnants of what was once his domain, I realized how swiftly it had all transpired. He had traversed through my memories and embarked on new adventures, some familiar to me, others not.
Now, he faces his own challenges, as an alien dwells in his home, consuming his food and behaving as if no one comprehends the complexities of his life. Yet, despite everything, my alien loves that child just as fiercely as I do.
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Summary:
The article reflects on the challenges and transformations of parenting a teenage boy, described metaphorically as an alien. It explores the emotional rollercoaster of adolescence, the mother’s struggles to maintain her identity, and the bittersweet nature of watching her child grow. The piece serves as a reminder of the complexities of familial love and the inevitable changes that come with growing up.
Keyphrase: teenage transformation in parenting
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