I need you, Mom. I know that since I’ve become a teenager I act like I don’t, but really I do. I need you to take me to school and sign my permission slips and pay for sports. I need you to clean up after me and buy me clothes and make sure I get to the orthodontist. I need you to take me to the doctor if I’m sick, and make sure I take my medicine. I need you to make sure I have a comfortable bed and tasty food and the latest video games and cable television. I need you to go grocery shopping so I can have snacks I like and I need you to pack my lunch, whether or not I feel like eating it.  I can’t possibly be expected to do all those things for myself.

Sometimes I have projects; then I need you to drop everything and take me to the office supply store to get poster-board or chart paper or a glue stick. Sometimes I have clubs after school, then I need you to pick me up at a different time, and oh, by the way, can you drop off my friend at his house too? Sometimes I forget my book at school or at Dad’s or somewhere else so I need you to take me there, unless it’s too late. Then I need you to listen to how I didn’t know I needed it but I really do need it and I need you to believe that it’s not my fault that I have an impossible problem.

But you know what I need most of all? I need you to be my Mom. I need you to understand that sometimes I’m going to be a jerk, but I still love you. I need you to understand that you’re not the same age as me, and it’s embarrassing when you try to act like you are.  I need you to be nosy and know where I am and what I’m doing, even when I hate you for it. I need you to say no, and I need you to protect me from my own stupidity. I need you to know that just because I keep my distance from you, I still know I’m your kid, and I still know that you love me. I need you, Mom, more than I will ever admit.