God writes our story.
I am still learning to surrender the pen.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Youth is Wasted on the Young

(...Like a text message waiting for the send button to be hit, these blogs have been waiting in the shadows until a time they were ready to be released. Thank you so much for you patience and support during this time of seemingly silence.)

And yes, I am 24 typing that. I've always been told I had an 'old soul'... which you can never be too sure what that means. Can it mean that I'm mature for my age? Can it mean that I can sometimes be 'boring' due to my lack of interest to partying? Can it mean that the large volume of my friends list have daughters not much younger than I? Yes to all. So when I was asked by a friend of mine, to allow her younger sister of age 18 live with us for awhile, we very quickly said yes. Were we crazy to attempt to 'mother' a child only "SIX" years younger than us? Probably, but we (I, more of it) was up to the challenge. And Lord, has it been a challenge!

Firstly, let me say to all you new mothers out there... be thankful (other than obvious and painful reasons) that you deliver a cute and fresh little one VS a teenager. I'm pretty sure THIS is why we aren't born old and grow younger. :)

We put her on our cell phone plan, helped her arrange 'her' room the way she wanted, got her gifts and photos to decorate it and make it 'hers', gave her meals, and driving lessons (yes, she had not even learned to drive yet), and a computer user password, and trips to friends and the store... yet it seems as if we have given her nothing. She is ungrateful, and not once have we heard a 'thank you'. Sure, she is a teenager who feels entitled and sure, "Rome wasn't built in a day"... but when should we start to see a change in her? When can we begin to feel like we are actually HELPING yet instead of just being another spot to ENABLE her? It's been only three weeks, and we'll keep trying, but I'm just not sure where the line is...

This whole experience is helping a doormat like me learn where my buttons are and how many times I'll let someone push them before I break... but for now, I haven't said anything. Still a doormat, and being treated like one for now.

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