Fifteen. Yeah. It needs to be a club. One that provides around the clock support, secret passwords, a gift registry, and tons of tips on how to survive the year that practically breaks a parent. Terrible twos? Yeah, I miss those tender moments. The incessant ‘no’s, the ‘why’s, the tantrums, the poop rubs on the walls, and not being able to eat in a restaurant due to any moment scream sessions if the cheerios run out. Freaky Fifteens are so much worse. These kids are effective communicators now. Well, I guess the occasional grunts could echo a two year old. But at fifteen, you get verbal rejections. The constant reminder that you know nothing and they know everything. You’ve never been there. You were always a parent…a dumb one with dumb rules. And I get it…these kids celebrating fifteen years on earth are nothing like the fifteenth year I walked around. Now they have devices that make them dumber. More insecure. More attention seeking. More approval seeking, I should say. Everyone is watching everyone. And everyone thinks everyone else is doing much better. When the truth is, no one is doing well at all. They all suffer from lack of focus, lack of individuality, and constant checking in. I caught my son taking pictures of his food the other night and uploading it. Yeah, I’m happy I was 15 when I was.
So yes, I’m suffering through the 15th year with my fourth child. You think I’d be a pro. 
The fact is, all my kids were slightly different. They all wear the chip on the shoulder the same, but they all had their little issues unique to them. This boy is no different. But today, things went too far.
Warning: rant approaching! So, you know how you can’t go to a store and apply for a job anymore? Like before things went screwy and changed? Now you are directed to go online to apply. Even though you know paper exists. Applications could be a thing. Managers interviewing applicants is still something. Yet it’s not. So onto my rant. I called for a refill for my son’s medication. I was told to get an online chart. I can’t just call and leave a message for a nurse or doctor to check a chart and give the nod. Nope, I need to set up another password to forget and need to call support just to get another refill. So I called the number she gave me to do this. The man on the other end asked how old my child was. (emphasis on the term ‘child’) I said, 
To which he asked me if my son was around. I replied that he hadn’t got off the B U S yet. You know, the school bus? And he said I would need to call back when he was here and able to give authorization for me to create a chart. 
Did I stutter when I said the kid was on the bus? Nope. It turns out that along with all the other crazy crap that’s going on with the world, I have to have my 15 year old kid give his blessing for me to create a chart. The kid who thinks they are already much smarter, less stupid, and know it all more than me. I wanted to reply to the man, who clearly thought it was perfectly fine to request something so ludicrous, that maybe my ‘child’ should drive himself to his appointments, purchase his medicine, and pay for future visits. Because why couldn’t he? Because he’s a kid, riding a bus, and nowhere near the maturity he needs to be to be giving ME permission to create a chart for him.
Anyone else, other than 15 year olds, see a problem with this? What in the world would I be doing on his chart that would need his authorization? Last time I checked, 18 was the magic number for independence.
So anyway, 15 year olds are challenging, and they will remain forever. Luckily my fifth child, who has witnessed each one before him turning 15, might be my easiest of all. He’s seen my gray hairs marching faster, heard the trembling in my voice, and shared hugs in the evening when I needed them most. He is the one I’m holding out hope to break the 15 year curse. Anyway, he went through something horrific two years ago that I bought endless self help book to rewire his brain. It must’ve helped…look at him now! It could be he went through it early. Good news, if that’s the truth!
Enough about 15. No, really let’s find an island and ship any 15 year old that needs their ticket punched. We could send criminals to go and chaperone. That would teach them! The criminal, that is. lol Seriously, I hope everyone has a good week. It’s spring like weather in my neck of the woods. My blooming flowers are as confused as my 15 year old. 🙂
