The trouble with teens ...

My close friends already know I'm having a bit of a tough time with my teenager at the moment. He's 13, and testosterone has just begun to kick in big-time. If you remember Kevin the Teenager from the Harry Enfield sketch show in the 90s, you'll have a fair idea of what he's like on a bad day ... except there's more swearing in our house. Sometimes I wish I had a BBC sound editor living here to bleep it all out. They could join my 'fantasy parenting' team of essential support staff, along with the cleaner, the cook, the counsellor, and whoever can get here first with a large bottle of whisky.

But I don't want to give you the impression it's always Hell at home. A lot of the time he's lovely. He still talks to me (there's no grunting yet!) and he can make interesting conversation, too. He does his share of the housework, sometimes without even being asked. On my birthday, he cooked tea for the whole family - grilled salmon, new potatoes and veg - and it was delicious. And I've just eaten the fried egg sandwich that he made me for lunch, while I got on with this.

Out and about, he's usually pretty good too. Other mums tell me how helpful and sweet he is with their smaller children. Local shop-keepers regularly compliment me on my son's good manners (really and truly - I'm not making that up!). Sometimes, indeed, he is almost heroic: he carried shopping for a struggling neighbour recently, even though some other boys were watching and scoffing at him; and he jumped in the canal a couple of weeks ago to rescue someone's struggling dog.

So what am I complaining about, eh?!

Well, the flip side of this loveliness is sometimes pretty grim. School doesn't suit him, and while serious trouble is rare, there are a whole string of minor problems, and he's more likely to bring home stress than homework. Then, as well as the day-to-day stomping and Kevin-ness, there are occasional bursts of very stupid or dangerous behaviour. At the moment, for example, he and some friends are excluded from school (that's 'suspended' in old money) for bringing in a lighter and playing with fire in the sports hall. Exclusion brings a whole pile of hassle and - since he's a boy who doesn't like school anyway - it is certainly more of a punishment for me than for him.

Then there's trouble that descends and lands on him, unexpectedly. A couple of weeks ago he was robbed in the street by two thugs who threatened to kill him if he didn't hand over his 'phone. He was physically fine but we were all a bit shaken, and for me that also meant stressful conversations with the local police, the CID in the city where it happened, and the youth worker who was supposed to be looking after him at the time.

The trouble with teens, from a parent's point of view, is that it's an emotional roller-coaster. When I wake up each morning, I don't know whether to expect shouting or smiles, trauma or delight. Almost certainly, by the time I get to bed, I will have been though all of these, and a fair few other feelings too. Teenage emotions are dramatic... and my teenager seems to change like the weather, blowing through my day, leaving me storm-tossed or sunburnt!

Angel or devil - superhero or villain - or even ordinary mortal boy - it's all absolutely exhausting.

Which brings me to the real trouble with teens. There are lots and lots of rules and systems in place to control them and punish them when they do wrong, but there's very little support to help them do right. It's more-or-less all down to me, and I'm pretty much on my own. As a single parent, I find it particularly hard sometimes ... But don't get me started on absent fathers now... And I'll save my rant on how society is failing boys for another blog.

Being a parent of a teenager is certainly a lesson in learning to 'go with the flow', and I know I'm not very good at that yet! A wise friend once said, after listening to me let off steam, "Yes, it's shit, Flow ... but it doesn't have to be our shit!" And as I sit on my life-raft and watch the flotsam and jetsam and smashed-up cargo of teenage life float past me, I need to remember that a lot of it isn't his shit either.




Flow x