Sometimes I miss being a teenager. Not often, but when I do, I get nostalgic for what defined my generation. No, I do NOT miss the mullets, or parachute pants, or the headbands, or the sleeveless t-shirts, or the skinny ties…well, ok, I do miss the skinny ties. They were rather cool. No, I miss the innocent angst that churned throughout our high school years. I miss the afterschool gossip in the hallways, the stinky bus rides, and even hanging out at the mall because it was Saturday night and there was no other place to go. Innocent angst that never really hurt anyone, stuff that you could cure with a calorie-fest and a Christian Slater flick. THAT is what I miss.
Now that I’m a mom, it’s tough to see my kids going through the same trials and tribulations. You know how things will turn out. You try to guide them, and warn them, and all you get is the same ol’ “You just don’t understand.” So, I do the next best thing.
I make them watch a John Hughes movie.
No one else understood teen angst as well as John Hughes did. NO ONE!!! I don’t care that they didn’t have cellphones or internet in the movies. Growing up is the same on the inside for every generation. In a small way, I’m glad I don’t have to experience teen heartbreak. But in a big way, I’m glad I know what it was like, and that at least my kids will listen to a movie, if not me.
After all, I was born a mom. What would I know about Life??