Updated: Aug. 20, 2023
Originally Published: Oct. 20, 2022
This week, my youngest child hits the big 1-3, officially making me the parent of three teenagers. (No wonder my gray hairs are multiplying like rabbits.) Navigating the teenage years is downright overwhelming. When they were small, I had the reins on their lives—what breakfast they’d eat, what shows they could watch, who they hung out with, and when they went to bed. How could I mess that up? Even if they indulged in sugary cereals, I could always balance it out at lunch. Now, however, they’re making choices that carry weighty and lasting implications, and I feel like time is slipping away to impart crucial life lessons.
And then there’s the constant anxiety about online safety, substance use, their futures, safe relationships, texting while driving, and whether or not they remembered to wear clean underwear—because, heaven forbid, if they got into an accident, everyone at the hospital would think I’m a terrible mother who raised a bunch of Neanderthals.
To all the moms of older kids who pitied me when I was a brand new mom, sleep-deprived and a walking zombie reeking of sweat and sour milk (because let’s face it, showering wasn’t on my agenda), you told me, “Don’t worry. It gets easier.” I grasped onto that hope, convinced there was a light at the end of the tunnel I just couldn’t see yet.
As the baby who seemed glued to my breast transitioned to being attached to my leg, I held tightly to those words. Through the years of diaper changes and Christmas tree disasters, I waited. After enduring the mess of being pooped on, peed on, and vomited on, you continued to reassure me, “Don’t worry. It gets easier.”
But I had trudged through enough of motherhood to realize it wasn’t going to ease up anytime soon. Still, I clung to that glimmer of hope. I was starting to catch a bit more sleep, which was essential for handling endless questions, rescuing the goldfish from the desk after the four-year-old decided it needed fresh air, and unclogging the toilet that had mysteriously swallowed socks, Legos, and a peanut butter sandwich. I had sung “The Wheels on the Bus” more times than I could count, while simultaneously saving my dog from a bag of chocolate chips dropped by my “helpers.” And yet, you insisted, “Don’t worry. It gets easier.”
Now, however, it’s all about slammed doors, eye-rolls, and boundary testing. It’s intense debates over my decisions and arguments about fairness. It’s that urgent moment when your teenager needs to talk—and they need it now. Helping with math homework, enforcing curfews, discussing social issues, and addressing the dangers of dating are now part of my daily life. There’s friend drama and concerns over why a stranger sent my daughter inappropriate pictures.
So, don’t you dare tell me it gets easier. I call bullshit.
I’ve traded wiping away tears for mending broken hearts. I’ve exchanged sleepless nights rocking a fussy baby for sleepless nights worrying about their choices when I’m not around—choices that could shake their world and mine. I’ve swapped “The Wheels on the Bus” for the oft-repeated mantra of “Be Responsible.” I’ve transitioned from answering endless questions about the world to contemplating how people can be so cruel.
Yet, the constant demand for food has remained unchanged.
On the upside, I no longer smell like baby vomit. So, there’s that.
Sure, there are aspects that have lightened the load. I can leave the house without little ones in tow, I catch more than three hours of sleep at a time, and I haven’t been on the receiving end of a vomit shower in months.
However, in many ways, it’s become significantly more challenging. (And let’s be honest, they aren’t as adorable or easy to forgive anymore.)
What I thought you meant when you said, “Don’t worry. It gets easier,” was that life would return to some sort of normalcy—that I could shower and think without interruption, make decisions for myself, and chase my own whims without a second thought about the kids. I longed for that pre-kid version of me, free from the weight of responsibility for raising humans.
But once you become a parent, you must find a new normal. Sometimes that involves wearing old sweatpants because laundry hasn’t been tackled in ages or dodging Legos while stashing chocolate on the top shelf. It’s about functioning without caffeine or a good night’s sleep while still loving your chaotic life. Sometimes it’s about bandaging scraped knees and answering the awkward questions that arise.
And when you’re a mom of three teens, it’s about setting boundaries and watching them stumble, offering reassurance, tackling difficult conversations, and resisting the urge to swoop in and save the day when they make mistakes (which honestly is one of the hardest things to do). The new normal is trusting your kids to make wise decisions and loving them even when they falter.
That’s definitely not easy. But it is what we call normal.
So to all the moms of little ones out there, ignore the voices that insist it gets easier. They mean well, but they’re mistaken. It doesn’t ease up, but it evolves. Those tiny humans are constantly changing, just like you. You grow, adapt, and become better equipped to face the challenges ahead.
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Summary
Navigating motherhood, especially during the teenage years, can be an overwhelming experience filled with challenges and constant change. While parents often hear that it gets easier, the reality is that it evolves. Each stage brings new hurdles, from managing friendships and independence to tackling tough conversations. Embracing this new normal—complete with sleepless nights and constant demands—while fostering trust and love is what truly defines motherhood.
Keyphrase: The challenges of teenage motherhood
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