Before you judge me, let me try and describe life with a brand-new teen, so you understand my frame-of-mind when IT first happened.
I went to bed one night with three lovely children who loved loved loved me, and woke up with two lovely children and one who hated me because it was raining.
And I didn’t even make it rain.
Since then I’ve suffered repeat whiplash from his mood changes. I never know which child is waking up or coming home from school.
The one who loves me, or the one who hates me.
That’s why I paid my teenage son $100 to help me move furniture around the house one stress-filled day. Because I just couldn’t deal with the drama of having to convince him to help.
I was only going to do it once. Famous last words, right? I’ve now done it eight times.
And it’s got to stop.
But going cold turkey seems so hard, for me let alone him.
For instance, earlier this week I urgently had to go to the shops and needed my teen to look after his little brother and sister for me for just a few minutes, which required him coming out of his room. I was in a rush and when he asked, “How much”, I didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll give you $20 when I get back,” I called out as I raced out the door.
Then the snowball kept on rolling.