Raising teenagers is… well, it’s a lot like trying to hug a cactus. You want to be close, but you have to approach with extreme caution and high-quality protective gear. I have learned that these years aren’t just about growth spurts; they are a masterclass in navigating “The Vibe” (which changes roughly every four seconds). Nothing is “ not that deep” but it is deep because of the reaction you get.

My 16 year old daughter has officially retired me from my position as “CEO of Everything.” I have been demoted to “Unpaid Consultant Who Should Probably Just Buy Snacks and Stay Quiet.” 

The last year has been a steep learning curve. There were days when I’d come home ready to “parent” armed with logic, solutions, and unsolicited life lessons only to be met with a sigh so heavy it could move mountains. At first, I took the side eye personally. I wanted to lecture them about being happy to see me as we’ve all been at work and school but NO. 

Then it hit me: I was treating their moods like a broken sink I needed to repair. But teenagers don’t want a plumber; sometimes they just want you to be like a reliable piece of furniture just present, supportive, and silent. I realised their moodiness isn’t a review of my parenting; it’s just the sound of their brains “remodeling.”

The biggest test of my new “Listen More, Fix Less” philosophy came this past Christmas. My 16-year-old, in a peak display of teenage stoicism, informed me she wanted absolutely nothing. No list, no suggestions, just “I don’t know, don’t get me anything.”

Old Me would have lectured her about the spirit of giving or panicked and bought a gift card. New Me decided to play detective. Instead of asking what she wanted over and over again, I just watched and stayed quiet. I noticed the way she lingered over a specific aesthetic online, the way she mentioned a friend’s hoodie, and the way she complained about how she wanted airpods rather than her headphones”

I took a gamble on buying them she hadn’t explicitly asked for, but I’d heard.

When she opened it, the “Too Cool for School” mask slipped. I got a genuine smile, a rare, 14-karat gold teenage smile, and an “Oh my goodness, how did you know?” That moment was better than any “I told you so.” It was proof that even when they aren’t talking, they are communicating, we just have to be quiet enough to hear it.

I have also learned the grueling discipline of “picking my battles.” Does the messy room matter as much as the fact that she actually sat in the kitchen and talked to me for ten minutes? No. I’ve traded my “Fixer” hat for a pair of good ears and a lot of empathy.

And finally, if you’re in the trenches with teens, remember: your presence matters more than your advice. The goal isn’t to “win” the argument or solve the mood; it’s to show them that you’re a safe place to land when the world gets loud. We aren’t just surviving the moody years; we’re building a bridge to the adults they’re becoming, one quiet, listening moment at a time.