There Are Always 200 Lights On

The teenage years are weird. Our oldest daughter is a teen now and I get to experience teenage angst all over again through her. Yes, now I remember that it requires a massive amount of sleep to wake up and do nothing whatsoever. Oh yeah- I do recall repeatedly “forgetting” to hang up my wet towels, put my dirty dishes in the dishwasher, turn off every single one of the 200 lights that I have on upstairs, feed the dogs and bring the three empty bags of chips downstairs that somehow ended up under my sister’s bed even though she doesn’t even like that flavor potato chip and I didn’t have a sister but I do have a gay brother and that’s kind of the same thing.

Our teenager, Jules, summed up, pretty perfectly I think, the extreme variance in self esteem that many teenagers deal with daily-sometimes hourly with this statement: “I go back and forth between feeling like I don’t matter and that no one cares what I think to feeling far superior to everyone else around me and that their thoughts and opinions are stupid but mine are genius.”

And then the yolk of the hard boiled egg she was eating fell out and rolled across the floor and she collapsed in a heap of tears because “Dammit that was the best part!” So she grabbed a bag of chips and headed upstairs where there are always 200 lights on.

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