It just is. Everything grows at odd angles and nothing works right. The brain is fueled mostly by brilliant ideas and good intentions. There's a lot you don't know yet, but you're pretty sure you do. I get it. It's hard. I have empathy for 13 year olds everywhere.
But I also have a whole lot of sympathy for the mothers of 13 year olds.
Dear heaven, give us peace.
Block our nostrils and our ears
so that we may see the beauty in the discovery
over the stink in the bedroom or the snarl of the reply.
Help us teach them how to bend without breaking,
and forgive us for occasionally thinking
that maybe breaking them wouldn't be such a bad thing.
Grant us the ability to really hear the jokes they tell,
and really listen to the things they share.
Help us remember that our sweet babies are still in there,
trapped by the hormones and oil,
wanting to be loved and appreciated.
Help us appreciate them.
Also, Lord, help me not lose my tihs when he hasn't done his laundry again, slept in, and yet managed to grab coffee and slip down to the basement while I was in the shower. Again. He's a good kid. He's not burying bodies or building bombs down there, and for that, I am truly grateful. But that laundry's gotta get done...
Be encouraged (if only in knowing you're not alone, or that it could be worse, whichever fits)!