When we moved into this house 10 years ago, the basement was unfinished. We knew we’d eventually have to do something about it. The kids were young, but we could see where things were heading. They’d obviously get bigger. We would all need more space. So we finished the basement.
It helped. It genuinely helped.
And on a recent PA day when both boys were home, and I was trying to work, I was still at the dining room table in the middle of everything, laptop open. Yes, we have more space now. But the part that inevitably came true was that our boys became giant teens.
There was a point, not that long ago, when I was the biggest person here. I could pick them up and move them. If one of them was in my spot on the couch, I just relocated him. No conversation required. That era is over.
Now I share a house with two people who are roughly my size, eat like they’re in the middle of a growth chart emergency, and appear to own twenty pairs of shoes each. I have two. I’ve counted.
Let’s start with the shoes, because you literally can’t avoid them.
The front hall is a permanent installation. Runners, boots, slides, the occasional shoe with no visible partner. My two pairs are in there somewhere. I assume. I haven’t been able to confirm this in weeks.
I don’t ask anymore. I step around them like they’re load-bearing.
To fill those giant shoes, the teens need to eat more.
Spoiler alert: Teens eat A LOT more food.
I was a tall teenage boy once. I remember what I ate. I remember the volume and the frequency and the complete absence of any sense that other people in the house might also want food. I had full information going in. It still catches up with you. They’re bigger, they eat more, and things don’t last as long as they used to. Leftovers are no longer a safe assumption. And the grocery bill is what it is.
Even their noises blend in.
My wife mentioned she can’t tell whose footsteps are coming down the stairs anymore. It used to be obvious. Small feet sound different. Now it could be any of us.
Let’s talk about getting ready in the morning.
The bathroom is less philosophical and more logistical.
We have a bathroom on the top floor and a perfectly functional shower in the basement that nobody will use. It’s down there. It works. There is nothing wrong with it. And yet every morning, four adults of approximately equal size are cycling through one bathroom on a schedule that nobody has formally agreed to, but everyone is somehow aware of.
One person sleeps in a bit or zones out in the shower, and it’s a four-car pile-up of worrying about being late.
Let’s move to my favourite room in the house, the kitchen.
Recent development: my oldest son discovered that a dirty dish can go directly into the dishwasher. Not on the counter beside it. Inside it. This was just recently. The follow-up discovery was that a clean dishwasher doesn’t require a formal invitation to unload. You can just do it without being asked.
You may think this is small potatoes, but it’s been pretty impressive to watch. It’s one less thing I feel like I don’t have to say out loud anymore.
Watching a movie as a family is even different, and not just because we no longer watch the latest animated film and can watch something like The Hangover together.
I remember when the boys were small enough to move, when the couch had room to spare, and I was able to stretch out my legs (and it would even be okay if my feet touched them).
Now we barely all fit on what was once a giant couch.
It’s all different now. The stairs sound different. The fridge empties faster. There are twenty-two shoes by the front door, and I’m pretty sure only two of them are mine.
They’re not little anymore, and I am reminded of that every day.
Living with teens isn’t all bad, of course. Yes, they take up a lot of space, they eat the leftovers you had pegged for a weekday lunch, and they treat the bathroom like their own personal spa.
But, they also make up for it with their helpful nature, conversations that make me smile and reminding me that I should really enjoy it for all its worth.
Because just like when they went from little kids to teens, it’s going to happen faster than I want, they jump from teens to adults who leave the house and never look back.
Maybe it’s not so bad living with teens after all.
Want to read more about life with teenagers? Check out my archive over at the parenting hub. And if you haven’t read why every teen boy’s bedroom is a second kitchen, I suggest you check it out.
