Once upon a time, there was an alien residing in my house. This creature didn’t boast oversized, glowing eyes or multiple legs. He didn’t shed his skin at night to reveal a see-through form, nor did he consume food through a nostril.
However, he was a master of mood swings, flipping from uncontrollable laughter to ear-splitting screams and door slams in the blink of an eye. His method of communication was a mix of eye rolls, shrugged shoulders, and occasional grunts laced with words like “whatever” and “yeah.” He devoured food as if it might vanish before reaching his mouth.
If you have a similar being living under your roof, you’re likely familiar with the teenage boy. More specifically, the teenage boy who is too young to drive yet too old to be seen with Mom running errands.
“Just drop me off here, Mom. This is good,” he declares, as if being seen with his mother would be the end of the world.
His hormones surged through him like a roller coaster, turning him into a creature that felt utterly foreign to his otherwise normal family. He could polish off a tray of cookies, two pot pies, a burrito, and a quart of milk before dinner, all while lamenting the lack of food in the house. He also left bowls of Jell-O under his bed, cultivating specimens that no human should have to endure.
He was the center of his own universe, completely misunderstood by everyone else.
Over the years, I accepted his role in this alien reality. I watched him grow taller than me, transitioning from footie pajamas to jeans. I listened as he moved from the Muppets to rap music. I went from giving baths to reminding him to wash before heading to school.
And honestly, it was all fine—except that I often struggled to hold onto my own identity during his transformation into adulthood. A glimpse of his discarded clothes, an empty package of my favorite snacks, or just one of his signature shrugs and eye rolls would send me spiraling.
I looked in the mirror and saw an alien face staring back at me. What was happening? I would scream in frustration, ranting and raving without any clear point.
Logically, I understood this was a pivotal moment in his life—one that mirrored my own memories. I could recall the heartaches, the anxiety over a date, late-night phone calls, and that rush of excitement when a crush walked by without a glance. I had been there too, but it didn’t make it easier.
A simple “Thanks, Mom,” a kiss on the cheek, or an “I love you” would have gone a long way. And guess what? Those moments did happen! Out of nowhere, he would plant a gentle kiss on my cheek. Yet, in a flash, he’d revert back to his alien ways, communicating with some invisible spaceship.
There were times I wished for an extraterrestrial ship to take him away, let him grow up, and return him to me as a wiser, taller individual with kids of his own. Eventually, that day arrived.
I stepped into his now-empty room, surrounded by the remnants of his teenage years—the beeping of video games, late-night whispers, and the heavy bass vibrating through the walls. Standing there in what used to be his world, I realized how quickly time had passed. He had moved on to create new memories, some I had experienced, and some I had not.
Now, an alien occupies his space, devouring his snacks and aimlessly wandering around, as if no one understands his life. But you know what? That alien loves him just as deeply as I do.
For those navigating their own journeys, including home insemination, check out this post on couples’ fertility journeys. And for more insights on the process, explore this authority on at-home insemination. For excellent resources on pregnancy, visit March of Dimes.
In summary, navigating the teenage years is often like living with an alien. They may seem unrecognizable at times, but their journey is one we all share, filled with love, memories, and a few unexpected surprises along the way.
Keyphrase: Teenage boys as aliens
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