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You guys are the luckiest to have me writing this brand-new fabulous column for teens about teens. I’m such an expert on teenagers you cannot imagine. Here are my credentials. I used to be a teenager and I am now a parent of teenagers. So what you say? What do you mean So what? Hey who can write such a column except for an ex-teenager and parent of teens? I mean who knows teens better than me? 

You’re saying anybody can write this column? Oh yeah. Right. Like your mother maybe? Still skeptical? Okay I will tell you everything. 

I wasn’t just a teenager; I was a lousy teenager. I was moody and depressed and anxious and rebellious. I was surly and obnoxious and selfish and snotty. I was a horror at home and I was a terror at school. So that’s the first part. 

The second part is that I grew up. (Whew what a relief to all of Mankind. And Womankind too for that matter.). And then this weird thing happened that from one minute to the next I had three teenagers living in my house. Supposedly mine but I totally did not recognize them. I tried to tell my mother that maybe they were her kids and would she take them for a few years — and maybe if I recognize them better once they graduated from high school I would take them back. She refused. She said something like “Payback time darling!” I had no idea what she was talking about. 

Now I must tell you I’m really kidding about my teenagers. Because I was such a horrible no-good terrible very bad teenager (something like Alexander and his horrible terrible no-good very bad day) I knew exactly how to parent teenagers! It was great. And my teenagers were great. I had a wonderful time with them and I actually liked it much better when they were teenagers than when I had to change their diapers.

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