This week it’s official. Now I have three teenagers living at home. God help me. I say this as a joke and yet not. Teenagers are very unique creatures with changeable emotions and unpredictable attitudes, which from time to time show flashes of maturity and sudden outbursts of stupidity, and I can not imagine how my parents survived me and my brothers.

One day in the country of young people all is well, and the next day (or hour) it is like Armageddon, and woe to those who come under crossfire.

We recently returned from a family beach vacation. It had to be cut due to various teenage occupations and “social” responsibilities. Most of the trip was quite pleasant, if you do not pay attention to the sudden explosions of “Shut up!” from the elder and did not pay attention to the middle child, who declared the whole trip “lame” and wondered why he could not stay in bed. In the interval between the constant needles of the third son and the incessant whining of the younger ones, I wanted to drink my own wine to prevent the useful family time that caused the migraine, which slowly turned into a primitive cry.

The senior, who inflated most of the way because we didn’t let him drive his own car (and lately he’s been looking at gasoline prices?), Pulled out some of his frustration behind the wheel of the family van and had a mom-driver in the back seat yelling at him on ear most of the time.

The average boy, who really slept most of our vacation, took moments out of consciousness to reflect on the meaning of life and why it even exists. Sorry, but before a couple of cups of coffee in the morning I don’t know why WHO of us exists.

But then, on the third day, the sun shone brightly and the waves beckoned. So we chased our brood into the icy waters of the ocean. For more than an hour we jumped, dived, swam, rode a boogie board, went surfing and … fully enjoyed each other’s company. We warmed up on the hot sand and demolished a few packs of Oreos and Chex Mix and everything was fine.

This did not last long. The peace was over until we got to the parking lot, but my faith in our family was restored. We can’t always coexist peacefully, we can (every day) drive each other crazy, and we may not “get” each other at all, but we are family and deep down (for some of us deeper) we love each other . And in this crazy, unpredictable world we live in, it’s good. Very good thing, really.

And may God help us all.

Holly Fletcher writes for the Gettysburg Times and is a home-staying mother who wants someone to invent a machine that will turn vehicles (and children) upside down to shake the sand (and relationships) out of them.

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