Mornings can be downright chaotic for any parent, but when you have two teenagers, it feels like you’re battling an invisible force, akin to what Tom Hanks experienced when he bashed his abscessed tooth with an ice skate in Castaway.
Now, if you’re one of those morning people who bounce out of bed like a ray of sunshine with children resembling the Cleaver family, kudos to you. Honestly, though, I might be a little envious of your seemingly perfect morning routine. My mornings? They’re more like dark clouds rolling in—a storm of teenage angst that makes me question my life choices.
Every morning unfolds like a never-ending play. I groggily drag myself out of bed, wipe the sleep from my eyes, and approach the two bedroom doors of my once-adorable kids. With a smile that’s trying its best to be cheerful, I knock and brace myself, hoping to see the sweet faces of my little ones. Instead, I’m met with what can only be described as creatures from a teenage horror film.
Trying to wake a sleeping teen is like trying to rouse a hibernating bear. Groans, squawks, and the occasional tear (thanks to my daughter’s dramatic flair) fill the air as I navigate the disaster zones that are their rooms. Despite my efforts, I head back to my room, hoping to take a shower without incident. But no—soon enough, I’m embroiled in a shower-time showdown, as my daughter disputes her access to the hot water. As I stand there battling for mere drips of warmth, she decides her hair needs a second wash, blissfully unaware of my sacrifices during childbirth.
Finally, I escape the bathroom only to find my daughter dancing to Taylor Swift while my son yells at her to turn it down. I attempt to drown out the chaos with a cup of coffee, singing to myself that “the best part of waking up is Folgers in my cup.” Spoiler alert: it doesn’t work.
As I try to get dressed, the relentless “Mom, Mom, MOM!” echoes from the other room. Meanwhile, my son, the calmer of the two, ambles around as if he’s stuck in a time loop, completely forgetting where anything is. “No, I don’t know where your toothbrush is!” I want to shout, but I hold back, knowing it will lead to further chaos.
The only way to drown out the noise is to turn on my hairdryer, but soon enough, my daughter needs my help with her hair. This task resembles trying to tame Medusa’s snakes—do not, I repeat, do not make eye contact with a 13-year-old while handling her hair. After a dramatic attempt at a fishtail braid, I’m met with screams and tears, as she declares I’ve ruined everything. Great.
With mere minutes to spare, I’m still in my robe, feeling the weight of my daughter’s wrath while they head downstairs to prepare their lunches. I’m left scrambling to get ready, my coffee long gone cold, and contemplating why I put myself through this morning madness.
The next ten minutes are relatively peaceful—a rarity. As they finally make their lunches, I quickly apply makeup, savoring the silence before the storm returns. But, of course, chaos erupts again with lost jackets, missing shoes, and those eternally unanswered questions like, “How did you come home without shoes?”
Despite the struggles, I wouldn’t trade these mornings for anything. We may strive for organization and I may be working on my patience (it’s a work in progress), but I still find joy in the madness. At the end of the day, I look forward to being with my two favorite people, despite the morning chaos.
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In summary, mornings with teenagers can be a whirlwind of noise, drama, and a sprinkle of chaos, but they also come with love and laughter that makes it all worth it.