Desperate

Last night my friend's sixteen-year-old daughter asked her if she would take her to Lowe's in the middle of dinner. It was 7:30pm. She'd cooked for an hour. We were all tired. The trip was completely frivolous. And that momma said yes.


Why? Because our kids are sixteen. They barely like us anymore. We only see them in short glimpses as they speedwalk from the front door straight to their bedrooms. They text with us more than they talk to us. They are happy when we give them things, and then… At best they disappear. At worst they wear a permanent scowl.


Listen, we have great kids. They are amazing and beautiful and confident and smart. They are kind and helpful and competent. But they are teenagers, so they just don't need us like they did when they were eight. They need us to be cooler. More aloof. Less needy. They still need someone looking out for them, someone paying for them, and someone to be stable and strong, but they don't love cuddles and Uno and bedtime stories. It's very sad, but also a solid sign they are developing the way they're supposed to.


So when they ask us, "PLEEEEEEEEASE can we go to Lowe's?" we say yes because it's an hour of time they willingly and happily spend with us in the last few years under our roofs. I'm proud of my kids. If them beginning their launch means I feel a little lonely, I'm good with that.

Unsplash photo cred: Sam Dan Truong

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