in between. it’s hard to be a teen. (and a teen’s momma.)

I’m trying to remember.

Although I can’t honestly say that I recall it entirely.

What it was like to be 12. Or 14. 16. 

At odds with my mind and my heart and my body.

(I mean, I’m still pretty familiar with that in too many ways.)

But I watch my kids.

Long past the baby stage. Jetted right away from the toddler phase. My youngest turns double digits next month.  We all have conversations about novels and crushes, heartbreak and Marvel movies.

I watch their faces when they’re trying to get their way.  Hear their arguments trying to convince me that staying up late is the best choice or driving them to this or that, arranging a hang out sessions with their friends.  Sometimes they’ll make a pretend baby face to prove their point.  A throwback to some old family joke, hands tight in a fist formation, doubly shoved under their chin, head tilted, eyes open as wide as possible and a questioning look on their no longer baby faces.

Wildly caught in between Big Kid and Little Kid. The Already and the Not Yet.

(Now, that’s a feeling not only have I never forgotten, but one that I have yet to outgrow myself.) 

They want both. (Like all of us.) They want the Let Me Do It and the Do It For Me.

Teach Me How and I Can Handle It.

They want to be grown and they want to be cared for.  

It’s like the toddler who cries “Carry me” when their legs are aching from a long walk and then pulls at your arms and demands, “Let me walk.”

Yes.  Both And.

It’s so hard to be in-between.

So hard to be aching for freedom and terrified at what it will cost.

To be starving for it with no idea what it tastes like.

They’re asking the questions but they think they already know the answers.

Dying to stand out and be seen but terrified that they’ll be noticed.

It’s an aching feeling – nearly as painful to parent them through it as it was to live it the first go round.

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