They are deeply emotional and therefore highly illogical. That means they are also capable of intense compassion and astounding (to me at least) problem-solving skills.
The oldest is learning to drive, the youngest sits fearfully, yet usually quietly in the backseat. He’s solving Chemistry equations, researching Louis Pasteur and mucking his way through Algebra II and Jane Eyre. She’s pressing through pre-Algebra and general science, can’t spell, and finds faith-based ministries like the China Inland Mission fascinating enough to read about.
They both have darling friends. We have 10,000 inside jokes, that we daren’t bring up in front of said friends lest they be thought uncool (or whatever hip phrase the youths are using these days). He makes a little money mowing grass, she by baby-sitting (we call her the baby whisperer). I have to remind both of them to tithe and save. They tell me they love me every night. Both are always appreciative of meals prepared. But they can sass me and roll their eyes if I interrupt them with something as inane as a chore. If I assign an intense school assignment, it earns me huffing disdain and later, when the light comes on, an intelligent conversation. Their physical changes and personalities offer me a glimpse of the adults they will one day become. It’s fascinating to remember these were once 6 lb brand new humans I swaddled in my arms.
So much about them is a contradiction. It’s frustrating and delightful. It’s exasperating and deeply joyful. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I love being their mom. (Drew 15, Abby 13)