It’s the private, only-for-Mom’s-eyes tantrums that bring me to my knees. “Our family is dysfunctional!”

Sometimes my teenager makes me cry.

It’s not the fact that my kid is a confused mix of toddler and adult. It’s not the endless shopping, eye rolling, or mood swings. Not even the help-they-didn’t-cover-this-in-parenting-class moments that happen daily, though all those are bad enough.

It’s the private, only-for-Mom’s-eyes tantrums that bring me to my knees. “Our family is dysfunctional!”

“That is totally S.O. (socially off)!”

“Something is seriously wrong with every single kid in this family! No, really! If you don’t take all of them for help, then all of them are going to be messed up for life!”

If you have teens, or have survived teens (can I contact you for support?), you’re probably nodding your head sagely, with sympathy in your eyes. Thanks, I’ll take all the sympathy I can get.

If your oldest isn’t a teen (that description varies — the definition is negotiable. But when it happens, you will know. Trust me. You. Will. Know.), you might be, a. thinking you’ll be smarter than I was — you’ll read parenting manuals and be prepared, b. wondering why I take these things so seriously, or c. putting down this magazine to ask your mother if she is the author of this piece.