Dear Teen...

Dear Teen,

You didn't come with an instructional pamphlet or one single care instruction. And odds are I wasn't fully grown up when I started the long journey of raising you.

You've reached a time in your life when you think you get it. You think you know everything there is to know... or you know all you need to know anyway. Life... to you seems cut and dry, black and white.... simple. You tell me you hate me... you disrespect me. You hurt me more than you can imagine... and you think that you are the injured one... because I have tried to control you... I'm a dictator not a parent...you say.

If you only knew the sacrifice... the things I've done without so that you could have. The tears I've shed worrying when you were sick... the sleep I've lost wondering if I gave you the right advice... the stress of managing my own hectic work week while struggling to get you to do your homework in between cooking you supper and washing your clothes. The guilt I've felt over getting upset with you.... and the anguish I've felt because I can't give you everything you want.

I've cleaned diarrhea when you took your diapers off... let you throw up on me when you wanted to be held when you were sick... worn your snot on my shirt to work... played with you when I was too tired to move. Worked double shifts to pay for clothes and toys.

You see... I wasn't always a parent... I was once like you. But then you came into the world and my life changed. I stopped putting me first like you are now. I put away my old life and became a parent. I began living for you rather than for me. And I have done that for seventeen years. I want you to think about that when you choose which tone to speak to me in... or the language you choose to use when talking to or about me. Think of me holding you in my arms... worrying... wondering... hoping... loving... loving you more than I love life itself.

Respectfully,

Your Parent.