I don't have a teen, but I coached middle school cheerleading for two years. Need I say more?
Each day Brooklyn is a little like those 12 teen-aged cheerleaders I had. First, she kinda talks back. Today Mr. LTM asked her to give him a hug. Her response was, "No thanks, I'm busy." Yes, it's cute right? But she wasn't sitting in her little Pottery Barn chair coloring like they do in the catalog. She was pulling on the baby monitor cord and attaching it to her My Little Pony as a leash.
She likes to hurt our feelings. . . on purpose. The other day I told her how much I loved her. Brooklyn's response was, "Mom, you are not my friend." Seriously! Just as I was sitting back and reflecting on how tiny she used to be. How I held her in my arms and rocked her bitty self to sleep. How I shot myself in the stomach for 8 days to go through IVF and she claims I'm not her friend.
She's hormonal. One minute she says, "Mommy, here is your good listener!!!!" And the next moment it's "No. NO! NO! I will not eat that strawberry because it's too HOT." Yes, her strawberries are hot, her bread has too many holes and her chicken nuggets are old. Where does she come up with this stuff?
Her toddler years must be a glimpse of the future. I know someday she's going to tell me she hates me (all teens do), but either way, she's my little baby, and I will continue to tell her that each day!!!