When I was a teenager, my mom seemed to actually care about what interested me. Maybe it mattered to her, maybe it didn’t, but I felt it did.
Now that I have teenagers of my own, I try to treat them the same way and it helps that they like things I enjoy. I’m not sure that I could camp outside of concert venues with Claudia if it was to hear death metal or go to the theater with Emily if it was to hear German opera over and over. I like to think I would, but, ugh.
I assume there will come a day, maybe soon, when they won’t want to sit in the van in the driveway with me for hours listening to music while we sing along or worse, there may come a day when they would still be willing to but I might not be here to do it. In the meantime, I’ll be the super uncool mom who knows all the word to that one boy band’s songs and has the t-shirts to all the musicals.
It’s hard enough to be a teenager, you may as well have a mom who gets you.