Angst

Conversations with Evan lately take one of two directions.

Conversation One
Me: Evan can you please _____. (Insert household chore here).
Evan: What?! I can't believe you are making me dooooooooo that! You are the meeeeaaaaaanest Mom the whole wooooooooooorld! You just don't understaaaand me!

Conversation Two
Me: Evan can you please ______.
Evan: I can't do anything right! I'm the worst kid ever!
Me: Evan, PLEASE do not talk about yourself that way!
Evan: But I can't even take out the trash right, so I'm not going to.

Ugh. It hurts my heart, to suddenly be constantly at odds with my sweet little boy. We used to be so connected, and so in tune with each other. I hate that we have to go through this stupid teenage angst. And that it started at 11. Don't we have at least two more years to go before the hormones?

I remember having these conversations with my Mom. I remember being a complete, annoying wreck when I was anywhere from 13-20. But, for the life of me, I can't remember why. Why in the world did I feel that way? Why did the world seem out to get me? In particular my parents? I feel like if I could just recapture some of that, maybe I could make this easier on Evan and I.

But maybe too, everyone has to go through this. I just hate it. I want my kid back. I want my relationship with my kid back.

And I wish I could take back every single rotten thing I ever said to my mother as a kid. I get it now, what it did to her, and how it made her feel.

Ugh.