Overtired Teens and Cranky Moms

One of the worst mixtures in the universe is the amalgamation of overtired teens and cranky moms. No comets burst quite so energetically, no suns nova quite so fundamentally, no stars explode with quite such force as does an exhausted middle-aged matron faced with her equally worn offspring.

In an ideal galaxy, both parents and children remember that whining is a sign of neediness, and that snarling is, as a rule, preceded by emotional, let alone physical, marathons. Neither parents nor children intend to be grouchy when they wake up, not usually.

Nonetheless, cups of hot tea prove to be a meek response, hugs are sloughed off, and soft words remain scant in such situations. Although after such events, the constellations ordinarily referred to as “family systems,” do eventually reorganize themselves into recognizable clusters, while so much power is shifting, it’s usually safest to hide in the bathtub.

More specifically, the small ones stared me down, the large ones repeated words that make me blush and for my part, I bellowed like a musk ox (you have to use your imagination since, admittedly, I, too, have never actually heard the call of a musk ox). Doors were slammed, books were thrown to the ground and threats of reprisal (guess who was responsible for that last behavior) were dropped like so many blistering bits of luminous plasma.

In the end, some semblance of peace was cobbled. The smallest of the folk were allowed to stay up a bit longer to compensate their bellies for the dinner they refused to eat earlier. The older teens were given brooms and sponges. The Mom, who was fighting a virus, a deadline, and a nagging feeling that she had misplaced somebody somewhere, was sent to bed.

In the morning, the youngest were still rebelling against the shop’s culinary selections, the oldest were still grieving the amount of tasks assigned to them, and the mommy was still sniffling, coughing, and spewing. However, equilibrium was restored.

Kisses were exchanged before buses were boarded. Well wishes were passed around. Promises to integrate nice words among the nasty ones were made, too. Even the imaginary hedgehogs, crepuscular creatures to a one, agreed to be tucked in for a nap.