I finally realized that I wasn’t losing my sanity alone; it was a shared experience with my teenagers. I often found myself questioning my own memory. I’d get into the car only to see the glaring “E” for empty on the fuel gauge and wonder, Didn’t I just fill the tank? I’d open the pots and pans drawer, only to spot my white measuring cups tossed in haphazardly, as if I had space-out mid-task.
Searching for juice glasses became an everyday scavenger hunt. Where did I leave them? Were they in the bathroom? They usually go next to the larger tumblers, but now they’re nowhere to be found. It felt like I was losing my grip on reality.
I’d open drawers and find the can opener stuffed in with pot holders and I’d exclaim to my kids, “Who put this here?” Then it dawned on me whose turn it was to put away the dishes that day—my teens, who seemed to delight in cramming items in drawers only to slam them shut.
When they empty the dishwasher, it’s like watching a silent rebellion unfold. They stow things away in such chaotic manners that I often question my own faculties. Just the other night, I made my famous meatloaf, a family favorite. For those interested, I use apricot jam—trust me, it’s a game-changer.
I prepped a double batch of meatloaf early in the afternoon, knowing my boys would return home ravenous after their swim practice. I popped the meatloaf in the oven at 3 p.m., set the timer, and headed out to pick up my younger child. By 4:00, the meatloaf was cooling on the stove, ready to meld with the flavors of the BBQ sauce, while I prepared mashed potatoes and a salad.
But when I returned to the kitchen, my Pyrex loaf pan was suspiciously empty. Did I even make the meatloaf? I was struck with a wave of confusion—did I really double the recipe? Then I remembered my boys had come home early and helped themselves, leaving behind a half-eaten slab of meat instead of the planned meal.
Forget the buttery garlic potatoes or the fresh salad—just a chunk of meat was all they craved. Had I lost my mind? Was early Alzheimer’s creeping in? Where did my meat go?!
So, before you embark on your own frantic search for misplaced items or wonder where all your coffee mugs have disappeared to, ask yourself: Do you have teenagers at home? If the answer is “yes,” then you may find a sense of relief in knowing you’re not alone in this chaotic journey.
If you need to vent, you’ll find me on the kitchen floor, pondering why I shoved utensils between the cutting boards.
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In summary, living with teenagers can often feel like a test of your sanity, as their habits lead to confusion and chaos in the household. But knowing you’re not alone in this experience can bring some comfort.