Generational Mexican Standoff

If they say it's easy - they are lying. And if they say it's because you had kids later - that's poppycock.

I am talking about the mother (and possibly the father as well) slipping into perimenopause and the progeny waltzing into teenagedom (a.k.a. blasted puberty).

One starts a tantrum (or gets into a funk, or goes silent) and the other one does exactly the same, possibly on a different scale. It's like looking into a mirror, albeit at a reflection of a younger self that is not sure what is happening and that can't find their butt with both hands. 

Sure, I know I need to be the bigger person and reign it in, but the hormones are simmering just beneath the surface, pushing my limits. And so is the mirror image: pushing my buttons. 

Oh, well. I am only hoping we meet on the other side a bit ruffled, but generally unscathed. Yep. Hoping.