Parenting teenagers and a pre-teen feels a lot like wandering through the wilderness—only instead of wild animals, you encounter savage one-liners and unexpected emotional ambushes. Let me explain: children are vicious. Hilarious? Yes. Heartwarming? Occasionally. But vicious all the same.
As a mom to two teenagers and one pre-teen, I’ve come to accept that I am not just raising kids—I’m surviving them. Let me share a few of my favorite (and mildly traumatic) encounters with my beloved tiny humans.
The Bike Ride Burn
When my youngest—nicknamed “Little Bit” because she’s always been on the petite side—was around 5, we were riding bikes in our old neighborhood. I was in the lead, and she was behind me, pedaling her little legs as fast as she could. I cheered her on:
“Come on, Little Bit!”
Without missing a beat, she yelled back:
“I’m coming, chubby!”
I didn’t find it funny. You know who did?
My husband. The man who’s supposed to be on my side.
The Hair Fairy Incident
This is the same child who once pulled out her own hair because she was jealous her older sister got money from the Tooth Fairy. She was determined the “Hair Fairy” would visit her too. I had to explain—with a straight face—that no such fairy exists and that we do not rip our hair out for profit. She didn’t care. She just wanted to cash in.
Sassy Spirit Activated
This child is the one we warn people about. She’s a sassy evil genius. We frequently tell her siblings,
“If you make her mad, sleep with one eye open.”
Her grandpa once got a front-row seat to her sass when she warned him:
“Don’t make my sassy spirit come out on such a beautiful day.”
What do you even say to that?
Thick Stick at the Steakhouse
When my son was 12, we went to a local steakhouse. He told his sister she was a “non-buff Hercules who gives hugs” (whatever that means). I jumped in and said,
“Look who’s talking, stick boy.”
His comeback?
“Look who’s talking, thick stick.”
Guess who was laughing so hard he nearly spit his drink out?
Yep. My husband. Again.
To be fair, he did tell our son he was in deep trouble—but not before the damage (and humiliation) was done.
The Walmart Swimsuit Saga
About two years ago, we decided last-minute to take the boat out before selling it. I needed a new swimsuit, so I dragged my two girls to Walmart. Thanks to some new meds, I had gone up a size and was feeling pretty low. I mentioned it to my husband, and my sweet, sweet Little Bit tried to comfort me:
*“Mom, you’re not chubby-chubby, you’re just chubby.”
So… progress?
Mean Girl in Training
I swear, this girl lives to mean-girl her own mother. It’s become such an epidemic that my best friend now steps in and corrects her whenever she sees her forget her sweet side. She’ll gently remind her to reign it in—and sometimes not so gently.
But here’s the thing: beneath all that sass is the biggest mama’s girl. She struggles with separation anxiety and doesn’t like sharing my attention. She’s just got a bigger personality than she knows what to do with.
Middle Child Magic
Now, you might’ve noticed I haven’t mentioned my middle daughter much. That’s because she’s the quiet one. She tends to observe from the background, rolling her eyes or giggling at her siblings’ drama. She’s the classic middle child—caught in the shuffle, but deeply loved.
She’s also a huge daddy’s girl. My husband makes sure to carve out one-on-one time with her, whether it’s working on the car or tackling yard projects. He’s the one person she’ll talk to nonstop, and I love seeing that bond grow.
The Real Secret to Surviving
If I’ve learned anything in this jungle of parenting, it’s this: the key to survival is snacks.
That old Snickers commercial? Spot on.
You’re not yourself when you’re hungry—and neither are your kids.
Singing Like A Canary 