Everyday is A Surprise When Opening Pandora’s Box: Where Did My Sweet Kid Go?

I’ve heard the phrase that, “Raising teenagers is like nailing Jell-O to a tree.” Until recently, I was sure that people were just exaggerating. I mean, I wasn’t that bad… or, was I? Abby has always been such a sweet kid, even if she didn’t always follow the rules Grubby and I had laid out for her. We always assumed this was a side effect of her not having any sort of disciple or routine when she was at home.

When she came to live with us, it wasn’t easy at first. Grubby wanted me to do it all, and I had never wanted to be a full-time parent. With a lot of patience with each other, and some honest and open communication between the two of us, we managed to get the three of us settled into a routine, and within the first three months, things got much smoother for all of us. We finally got her to conform to our rules, took her off the caffeine altogether, made her eat vegetables, and took control of her phone and Kindle, and she began to blossom.

When COVID was flying across the nation like Sherman through Georgia, and many schools and government employees were sent home to work remotely, Abby and I got even closer since we were both holding down the fort at the house while Grubby went out into public to play Buford T. Justice of Pittsylvania County. It was during that time that Abby asked me to adopt her. I told her we should take some time to really think about that and we would have to talk to Grubby about it first of course.

By this time, she wasn’t only eating her vegetables, she was ordering such exotic things like broccoli and asparagus, and even Brussell sprouts, when we would go out to eat! What 13-year-old kid does that? What 13-year-old kid turns up their nose at Kraft Macaroni and Cheese while declaring that mac and cheese shouldn’t be orange? Well, ours did!

Obviously, I agreed to adopt her, and even after Grubby died, she told me that she wanted to stay here with me. When the adoption was contested by her biological grandmother, she told me that she wanted me to fight for her, so fight, I did.

All through this time, Abby was sweet and cheerful most of the time, and except for being a bit of a hoarder and more-than-a-little messy, she was a pretty easy intro to parenting for me. I taught her how to pack for trips, so that she could do that on her own, and I taught her how to do some simple chores around the house so she could help me out. My brother warned me that this would probably change and that one day, I would wake up to a hissing, spitting monster that looked like my child, but in no other way resembled her at all. Okay, he didn’t use the phrase “hissing, spitting monster”, but I do think he used the description “child from Hell”. Either way, I assured him that no, Abby would never be that way. Ohhhh, how I am sure that he laughs at me from afar when I fuss about yet the next transgression in our ever-growing list these days!

It’s true! One day, I woke up to a hissing, spitting, blue-haired short person – one who has her father’s Cheshire grin, thus making it impossible to be too mad at her when she smiles. It’s like opening Pandora’s Box: which version will I get today? Raising Abby for the past year or so really HAS been like nailing Jell-O to a tree, and every time I think we are getting to a place of mutual respect and understanding, a place where she follows her daily “To-Do List of Things to Keep Jeanne from Yelling at Me”, I start to relax a little. This is where it gets dangerous, friends and readers! As teenagers, they become adept at giving us a false sense of security. Just when we loosen the reins a little, they are like a Pug with the Zoomies, and there is no stopping them!!! Much to my chagrin, all of her teachers tell me how nice and good-natured she is, and what a great job I’m doing with her. Apparently, they don’t make her mad by just breathing!

I’ve watched my dear sweet niece, Hallie, mature into a smart, strong, sweet-natured young lady who clearly loves Steve and Shana, and even Connor. She has come back full-circle to the sweet nature of her younger years, so every time Abby smiles at me or does something nice without being asked, I keep waiting and hoping that this is it – my girl is back. Every time, she probably laughs at me behind my back when she snaps at me because I woke her up so she doesn’t miss the bus (again!), or when she leaves her empty food wrappers laying on the kitchen counter less than three feet from the trash can (again!). I’m sure that my parents are sitting back laughing smugly as well, knowing all the things I put them through when I was 16.

Unfortunately for Abby, I know all the tricks because I did them. Fortunately for me, I’ve made no bones about it with her… “Every time you see that line you’re thinking about crossing, remember this: I have stared at it, tap danced on it, and gone over it every. Single. Time. I know every trick in the book, so when you look at that line, you might want to remember that.”

My dear girl (at least I think you are still a girl under that hissing, spitting, blue-haired thing that left here this morning!), I love you more than you will ever know. That matters a lot because that love is what saves me from going straight nine-oh-one on you when you are testing me. That love, your dad’s smile under that sullen exterior, and the song “Try Jesus”, have saved you a lot recently!!! I know you’ll come back because we all do eventually, so I keep on loving you, and trying to give you the 11 to 1: 11 Atta-girls to 1 You’re a jackass. Some days are easier than others, but I’m stubborn, and I won’t give up.

To my parents, I am sorry for acting like a little shit so much of the time. I know I wasn’t easy to raise, and I did way worse things than Abby does, so I guess if she doesn’t try doing the things I did, I’m pretty lucky. In the meantime, please excuse me while I find another nail for my Jell-O.