Yes, I need to vent.
What’s the deal with teen angst anyway? Having never really experienced it for myself I honestly thought it was all a bit exaggerated. Sure, my parents pissed me off a lot of the time, and I felt unsure of myself sometimes. And I certainly remember some my friends having some monster battles with parents, friends, and boyfriends. But unless I’m experiencing the amnesia induced by nostalgia for a long-ago time, I don’t think either my friends or myself really got much of a taste of teen angst.
Which makes me wonder.
Is it a boy thing?
From what I have seen, the answer is a resounding yes. In fact, even thinking back to when I was a teen, it was always the boys. My husband (back in the days when he was my boyfriend, obviously) was definitely full of angst. His brother, who is my exact age, was so full of angst he was bloody scary. A cousin I can remember was tortured about almost everything (and tortured those around him in return). My older son had a brief phase of being anti-world, which was soon channeled into a love of punk rock, which ironically (or not) cheered him up.
The man of the moment, Mister almost-Seventeen, is absolutely, positively, insanely bursting with it. His brow is puckered into a permanent frown. He will descend from his secret lair long enough to see what’s for dinner, might or might not eat, will scowl and mutter, then go back upstairs. Heaven help anyone who is brave (or foolish) enough to try speaking to him. At best you may get a sarcastic, mumbled reply that doesn’t involve swearing. At worst? Well, let’s just say it aint pretty.
He’s away on a school camp for the next three days, and can I just say THANK GOD. Keep in mind this is the same child I didn’t see for two months, and we’ve only been back three weeks. He is a lot like the rhyme about the girl with the curl in the middle of her forehead: when he’s good there is no-one sweeter or funnier, but when he’s bad he’s a f***ing nightmare.
Bit harsh? Hmm…NO.
Harsh is the other day when I went into his room to take him a pile of freshly laundered and ironed clothes. He looked so cute that I went to give him a kiss on the top of his head. As soon as I came close he ducked and put his hands around his head to SHIELD HIMSELF. So I laughed, and ASKED FOR PERMISSION to kiss his head, which was denied. I then asked again if I could just give him a hug. Denied again. So I laughed again, grabbed him and kissed him anyway. He didn’t find it half as amusing.
My husband and I have a new mantra these days. It goes like this: “it’s just the age”.
I really hope so because I can’t wait to have the nice version of him stick around for longer periods of time. Like long enough to have an actual conversation, and talking to me just long enough to sort out his social life for the week doesn’t count.
I feel sorry for the teachers who have the pleasure of his company these three days.
I think I might send them a bottle of wine when they get back.