A Bitter Angry Teenager

On my way home from work yesterday, I had to pick up Nathan at his Dad's house. When I arrived, he lumbered out the front door with his backpack slung over his right shoulder. He opened the car door, plopped himself down, listened to the CD that I was playing, and then he sighed, rolled his eyes, and frowned.

“Hi, Nathan. It’s nice to see you, too,” I said knowing that he wished that he was in his own car and listening to his music. Unfortunately for Nathan, he was at his parent’s mercy when it came to cars; though, I noticed that he had no problem making our cars his own by the amount of personal belongings that he kept in each. Within minutes of Nathan entering either car, the Toyota RAV or the GMC Suburban (a.k.a., Big Red) became a slightly different version of what I’m sure his high school locker looked like most days.

If there weren’t stinky soccer clothes in the back seat, there were Subway wrappers in the front seat. I had also determined that Subway was to Nathan what Sephora was to me. I wanted to give Nathan a quick economics lesson and explain that he might have more spending money for his European trip at the end of the month if he chose to spend less money at Subway; however, I feared great retribution (in the form of Sephora and Zappos), because as of late, Nathan had changed somewhat.

It wasn’t a bad change; it even seemed like there was a higher level of confidence exuding from him, a level that I still hadn’t atttained. He just seemed to be different in a way that I felt in my heart but couldn’t quite verbalize with words. He didn’t suddenly sell all of his Magic cards, tell me that dogs were superior to cats, or give up on Marine Biology for college study in order to be a sushi chef; there was something else going on.

Yesterday, I tried to think about exactly when this change occurred. I think it began the day he wanted to drive on the highway by himself shortly after he had gotten his driver’s license. In the last month, this change had become more obvious to me during our conversations.

It seemed he knew everything; everything I knew was met with eye rolling, sighs, and exasperation. At this point, even though he knew everything, he certainly didn’t have everything, because he had already asked me three times if I would be contributing to his Spending Money for Europe Fund. I knew my money wouldn’t be going toward food; most likely, I’d be paying for Polish magic cards and a few Hungarian Dungeons and Dragons books!

During two conversations yesterday, the change in him was more apparent than ever to me. He was the adult; I was the child; And, doesn’t that usually happen when you’re pushing 80 or 90 not 50? I had at least 32 years until he could officially roll his eyes and get impatient with me!

In the car, I started a conversation about his trip by asking, “So, do you have the $50 in Lithuanian currency that you need?” I received a sigh, an eye roll, and then he said, “Mom, I’m not going to Lithuanian!” I said, “Oh. I forgot. Where are you going again?”

He rattled off “Hungary, the Czech Republic, and Poland!” in a “Please, write this down for once and for all, Mom.” tone. I then asked, “Would you like to get a new pair of sneakers for the trip?” thinking he might like a pair of running sneakers for all the walking he was going to do. I received a sigh, an eye roll, and then he answered, “I have sneakers, Mom.”

We drove into the parking lot of the supermarket, so I thought it was best to change the subject. I used what I thought was non-eye roll and non-sigh question and asked, “Do you want to come in?” As he opened the door and got up to get out, he said smiling wickedly, “And, by the way, Mom, Munch is not the capitol of Hungary, although we will be stopping in Munich on the way to Hungary!”

When we were in the store, Nathan picked up a jug of iced tea. I said, “Ugh.” Nathan I had often battled over whose iced tea choice was superior; his was sugar-filled and mine was artificial sweetener-filled. As we walked through the store, he picked up several other items that were on his internal shopping list but were definitely not the external one I carried in my hand.

As we checked out, something went flying onto the conveyor belt as Nathan walked by me. I looked down and saw a package of sugar-free gum. I said half kiddingly, “Anything else, Nathan?” He said his usual, “No. I’m good.”

When we walked out, he offered me a piece of gum. I said, “No, thanks. I don’t like that mint-flavored sugar-free stuff. Just then we passed the gumball machines, and I said, “This is what I like, the sugar-filled ones that taste like bubble gum.”

Of course, this statement was met with a sigh and a roll of the eyes, and then I heard, “Mom. I just don’t get you.” Inside my head, I said, “Well, that makes two of us. Sometimes I don’t get you either!” Nathan said, “You like diet iced tea but yet you don't like sugar-free gum?!”

At that moment, I knew this was not a battle between him and me nor was it him being disrespectful to me. I decided to say something insightful and compelling just then instead of trying to defend my likes and dislikes in under 10 seconds to him. I said, “Oh, we’re having kielbasa for dinner.”

When driving home, I thought about it more. I bravely asked, “Nathan, what’s up with you lately? You seem a bit different in your attitude towards things.” Before I could say anymore, he said without even thinking, “You mean why am I a bitter angry teenager?”

I laughed out loud. Then, I thought about my new and different Nathan again. And, I said, “Gee, I hope we have hot dog rolls for the kielbasa.”

In retrospect, while Nathan seemed different in some subtle yet obvious ways, I didn’t really think there was anything to worry about. He was at a juncture in his life, having some freedom but not having complete freedom; he had the car keys but they weren’t to his car. The change I saw was only due to the fact that he was temporarily caught in between the world of being a boy and the world in which he would become a man. ♥