Mysterious

Yesterday I was included in a group text with two of my closet friends.  Both mother of girls, they were expressing the horrors of clothes shopping with teenagers.   I laughed not at them, but with them. Offering them a sanctuary to escape.   My own issues lie in dealing with those individuals – drowning in testosterone –  who think new clothes are a foreign subject and things don’t need to be thrown away.  The struggle is real.

In less than four weeks, we are leaving for Germany and Bailey is embarking on a journey to Florida.   As the organizer in the family – and let’s be honest, most men/teenagers don’t excel in this area – I keep asking them to figure out what they need.  Is it underwear?  Socks? Shorts?    The silence is deafening.

My guys believe that underwear is still viable even if their junk is making an appearance.  Shorts?  Well, if they are too tight or too short they are still wearable.  I bought Bailey some new Gap shirts for Christmas and I have yet to see him wear them.  Instead, he wears the same three outfits even though his drawers are full of clothes.

Let’s face it, whether we have girls or boys we all deal with a litany of issues.   I compare this phase as the “teenage toddler” years.   They still throw tantrums, but now they use words, are capable of slamming doors, and have the talent of confusing the hell out of us without the added adorable factor that a two year old holds.

If my guys are cool with tight shorts, their junk hanging out of their underwear full of holes, and they are wearing the same three outfits over and over again, then rock on, my friends.   I surrender.     I am waving a white flag that happens to be a brand new pair of underwear.  Maybe someone will decide to wear them.

 

 

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