Terrible Twos, Double Digits & The Harry Years

I feel like I am wearing Harry’s cloak of invisibility. Again.

I told my seventeen-year-old son Nic to wash the dogs four times in the past two weeks; I told him to change his bed linen the past two weekends -which is a regular weekend chore; ten days ago I told him to clean his room, to my level of clean; I told him to fill out two job applications a week, because I don’t want him lazing away the summer in front of XBox; and last week, I told him to clean the TV room, which is his own personal living space anyway. And he never did anything. Zero. Nothing.

Nic ignored me. Well actually, Nic didn’t ignore me. Nic says I never told him to do any of those things, which is ten-thousand times worse. Because I did. Tell him. Often. Nic just tunes me out.

And the worst part.. is Nic hears Hubs loud and clear. Nic remembers every conversation he has with his Dad. Nic hangs on his Dad’s every word. All Hubs has to do is say it once, in a normal voice, and BAM! Everything is magically done. No arguing. No forgetting. No excuses. No delays. Hubs is tangible. I’m just the Interloper with stretch marks.

I know, I know, it’s a typical teenage boy thing. A phase. I know it’s not deep-set womb-resentment, or general disrespect toward women. I know this. This is my third teenage boy, so really, I should be accustomed to this stage; be confident it will end, and simply get through it.

Except I was kinda hoping it would be different this time… because some of my friends have sons they are close to throughout high school. No really, I know it’s true! Seriously. They talk about it all the time on Facebook… and they post lovey-dovey photos with their teens on Instagram too. Really.

My friend Jan recently told me about a story she read; a woman turned invisible, and the woman didn’t know she was invisible at first, and she figured it out after she was consistently ignored by waiters in restaurants.

Obviously the woman in the story didn’t have a seventeen year old son.

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