Square Peg ● Round Hole







It isn’t a mystery that teenagers can appear to be aliens from another planet.  Bryce certainly fits into this category and after yesterday, I was ready to runaway until he is at least 25.    Not to delve into his story simply because that is his to tell, but I will tell you what my perceptions were as his mother, who is still recovering from an emotional hangover.

Let me start out by reiterating that parenting is not for sissies.   Yesterday could be compared to getting to the top of a roller coaster, pausing, and then right before you plunge down the steep track, you start screaming because, well, that is scary and so is parenting teenagers.   That was me, screaming.  Not out loud, but in my head along with the deafening thoughts of wishing the day away.

Like most teenagers, mine doesn’t really think things through nor does he plan well, if at all.   He had a social engagement that involved a girl, a dance, and other components.  Now simply put the pieces together….throw in being scheduled to work…..then finding a replacement…..then the replacement is voided because your manager might be an asshole….then the ever popular delay sharing that with your date because you have hopes of finding someone else to fill in for you at work.    The emotions went from angry, to crying, to a complete emotional breakdown…..by the way that was him.  I did the healthy thing by keeping my shit together by dealing with him in a calm, loving manner while secretly wanting to say, “What the hell were you thinking?” or something along those lines.

His consequences that he suffered were heartbreaking.  The dance was a distant memory as he fulfilled his obligation to work his shift.  Fortunately, his date was understanding, which is a miracle considering.      And while he seemed to move on, I was stuck with all the emotional residue.   Even as I write this, I have a headache and feel like I have been out all night.    But, here I am, being a mom, trying to navigate foreign terrain, all the while hoping I don’t have a nervous breakdown.

My consolation is that I know that he is a really great kid and that he had the best of intentions.   And while I recover from the events of yesterday, I am confident that the disappointment that he had in himself was far more intense than anything I could have delivered and that he learned a lot of life lessons in the process.

Today, I am armed with coffee, Tylenol and hoping that there are no dramatic surprises.  Momma needs a reprieve.