When I found out that I was pregnant with our oldest child, I made the decision to breastfeed my baby.  Now, I made this choice pretty much the same way one decides to have toast for breakfast.  It sounded good.

And like a very naive first-time mom to be, I thought it can’t be that hard.  Good grief, it’s feeding my baby, and I eat all the time.  I mean, my hobby is eating, so I certainly should be able to feed my baby any old way I want to.  My doctor’s office offered classes, but I thought “why bother?”

Then Dylan was born, and thankfully all went well.  But I went blindly into feeding a newborn without any information other than “it sounded good”.

Now, I am two years away from having a teenager, and this whole time I’ve been thinking that Eric and I would be fine.  I mean, Eric and I have been surrounded by teenagers for the last 14 years.  Surely that has prepped us or something, right?  We have taken up to 80 teenagers on trips to the mountains, sometimes on 14 to 15 hour bus rides.  We should breeze right through this, right?

NO!

I am starting to get glimpses of what is ahead.  I realize that these are teeny, tiny, slivers of what is to come, and I am a little panicked! I had significantly more knowledge on breastfeeding and newborns than I do about how to raise a teenager.  And I knew nothing!

And, what’s worse is no one is really offering a class for us to take.  I have zero ideas on how to prep for this.  

How about rules and boundaries, where do I get those from?  Curfews, driving and dating have me so freaked out, just the thought of dating makes me want to curl up into the fetal position (See? More newborn info.! Who knows what position a teenager would curl up into).

And the worst part is, when you “get” a teenager, there is no “teenager shower.”  No registry, no presents, no cake.  It looks like you pretty much get a quick shove in the butt into that stage without so much as a pep talk.

Oh mercy.  I am going to get into the fetal position.  This is too hard to even think about ...