But would you confess to loving them less than you once did? The action that had triggered such indignation? Asking if she wanted to join me and our three dogs for a walk. She barely looked up from her phone, but I definitely spotted an eye roll as I closed her door and headed out into the elements with my dogs Huck, Bluebell and Luna, who still love me unconditionally.
Despite the combined 68 hours I spent in labour, becoming a mother was the best thing I ever did โ until now. That golden era of cuddles and dreamy-eyed looks as they fell asleep in my arms โ now replaced by sassiness, eye rolls and sarcastic comments. Multiple studies have found the hardest age to parent is 15 years old and with a child on either side of that magic number, I wholly agree.
Our teenagers seem to push us to breaking point almost daily, which makes it hard to love them like I did when they were easier and adored me โ rather than cringing at my very presence. Put simply, I honestly wonder whether I love them as much in their teen incarnations as I did when their little hands fitted into mine and I was the centre of their universe. This from the boy who โ at four years old โ made me a whole box of Lego kisses because I was his favourite thing in the world.
I tell myself I am their boxing ring. My infinite patience taught them to ride bikes, tie their shoelaces, say their pleases and thank yous. No parenting task was too much. My love for them was limitless until I started annoying them โ despite my behaviour not changing at all. Even J. Lo has teenage kids that ignore her. By the age of 12, Annie had gone from wanting to hang out with me to telling me I wanted too many hugs and was embarrassing her when her friends came over.
I started feeling like she was the cool girl at school and that I was my goofy, nerdy teen self again. I love all three of my kids equally, but I find myself feeling increasingly sick and tired of the way they treat me. Was my parenting love for them only based on their unconditional love for me?
