We have nearly the same conversation every single day.

My teen comes home to rummage through the pantry, and our conversations usually go something like this…

“Ugh. Mom, I seriously hate school. As soon as I’m old enough I’m dropping out.”

Or “I’m done. DONE.”

Or “I can’t do math. I don’t ever want a job that has anything to do with math. Math is the worst.”

Or “I’m not going to have a family anyway. I’ll just work at some fast-food place and snowboard.”

These complaints are typically interspersed with the daily declaration that we have NOTHING to eat. And every single day I do my best not to get sucked in.

Even as the complaints ramp up, I keep my voice even and say, “Ugh. That sucks. Yeah, math can be hard.” Or “I know it’s been a rough year. You’ve done such a good job under the circumstances.” Or “You know, I wonder how you’ll feel after you get something to eat?”

Then I run the list of possibilities…sandwich, hamburger, nachos, yogurt, cereal, grilled cheese???

He grumbles.

I remain neutral, “I’m sure you’ll find something.”

Every. Single. Day.

One day last week was a little worse than the others. And even as I know I shouldn’t ride the roller coaster of emotions with him, sometimes I can’t help wondering.

‘Is he okay?’

‘Will he ever get this life figured out?’

‘Have I done enough?’

‘What if he ACTUALLY drops out of school? What will he do?’

‘Maybe I’ve been too rough on him. Pushed too hard. Layered on too much pressure.’

‘Or maybe I’ve been too easy on him. Coddled him. Sheltered him from REAL pain and REAL life.’

‘What if I really haven’t known what I’m doing all these years?’

‘I mean, have I been a good mom?’

Down the hill I go. My stomach drops, and I grasp for ANYTHING I can hold onto. I scream, ‘Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh.’ Then lose my breath completely as my hair flies back behind. I grip tightly to life and parenting teenagers as I grit my teeth and pray for release.

It was only a few hours later that evening he found me finishing up some work on the computer.

“Hey, Mom. I think I’m going to try to get my EMT certification so I can work evenings and weekends during medical school.”

Ummmm.

Okaaaaaaaay.

Huh. It was only a few hours earlier he planned to drop out and become a ski bum.

I just smiled as I looked up from my work. “Oh. Yeah. That would probably give you some awesome experience. Sounds great, honey!”

Up we go. Round two. Another ride.

Sometimes I remember to loosen my grip.

Sometimes I even raise my arms and close my eyes against the wind rushing in my face.

As over and over and over I’m reminded to let go and enjoy this crazy ride…

Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!