Ramblings about teens

Everyone warns you about having teenagers, but I have to say, so far, I'm enjoying it.

Good. Got that out of the way. A disclaimer, in case you're reading this at some point in the future, 15-yo. Hello to you, now you've got children of your own and you're thinking it might be fun to see what your old mum whittered on about when she was writing that blog. *waves*

Seriously. The teenage years bring a new dimension to family life, for sure. There is loss (you hardly see them, and this loss is felt by younger siblings as well as parents), but there is gain. You can watch unsuitable comedy together, and discover a shared love of naughty humour. You can expect more help about the house. You see a person emerging in his own right. There are some rather nice hoodies to borrow if you get bored of your own clothes. You have a live-at-home babysitter for a Saturday night. They self-function, so you no longer have to remind them where to be at what time, what equipment to take, what to wear. There's no more chivvying in the morning, have they remembered this? have they remembered that? have they finished their homework? So if you hate that morning chivvying, take heart; it won't go on forever. They even tell you in advance if they need a particular piece of kit to be washed and ready by a particular date.

Although come to think of it, laundry... ah, laundry... that's actually my big sticking point. I know you people with babies and toddlers think you do a lot of laundry, and I don't want to do that irritating "oh, just you wait till they're teenagers" thing that used to annoy me so much when I had wee ones, but... at least the items are small and cute. A whole drumful of sleepsuits, vests with poppers, tiny socks... Now, it's a pair of jeans, a hoodie, a couple of t-shirts, some track suit bottoms, and the drum is already overloaded. (I miss that American way of putting "already" at the end of the sentence. The drum is overloaded already. There that's better.)

Then there's the other issue, which is the placing of the laundry. Dirty socks, pants and other smaller items, are strewn around the bedroom floor - well it's my bedroom so what does it matter? Large clean items, worn once, are put in the laundry basket - no it's not because I was being lazy and didn't want to put them away, it's because I thought they were dirty, see there's a mark there, um, there, um, somewhere, um, I'm sure I saw one.

But I wouldn't be the Iota you know and love if there weren't some laundry woes involved.

Brag alert: I came across this email the other day, when I was looking for something unrelated, and I forwarded it to 15-yo. It was written soon after he'd started High School, and joined the soccer team. His coach said "I want to let you know that 14-yo has been one of the best young men I have ever had the privilege to coach.  He is very polite and has quite a sense of humor.  He has also been a great impact on the team. With his quiet sneaky style of play he surprises people including us coaches on a ever more frequent basis.  I dare say he is probably my favorite all around player/student/personality on our team." Boy, I miss America. Not only that "already" at the end of a sentence thing, but also, people say gushingly nice things about your children on a regular basis. I add that in to tone down the bragginess of quoting this to you. You have to remember that in Scotland, the equivalent sentiment would be expressed to me with a sniff, and a "yeah, he's doing ok". I also have to add that I had been reluctant to let 14-yo (as he was) join the soccer team, for various reasons which were almost entirely those of cultural misunderstanding and disconnect (*waves and says sorry about that, Son, but it worked out ok in the end, didn't it?*), so I'm thinking that maybe the coach was trying to butter me up a little.

Anyway, I feel I've now prepared the ground well enough, in case he's reading, to be able to share one of those "hopeless teens" stories about my son.

The other evening, I was in the study on the computer. The kids were finishing dinner on their own. 15-yo came in and asked if they could have custard for dessert. Ambrosia custard is one of his favourite things in the whole world. (He has a point.) I said yes. A couple of minutes later, he came back and asked where the tin-opener was. I replied that I didn't know, probably dirty in the dishwasher. He responded, "How do I open the tin, then?" It was a moment for a personal problem-solving challenge, I felt, so I replied "I am confident that if you really want custard, and if the other two also want custard and start nagging you, then you will work out a way." And then I very deliberately didn't go and check up on the situation.

And the end of the story, dear Bloggy Readers, is that later on, I found the tin of custard unopened... and in the fridge.
.