When Did We Become the Ghosted Ones?

Ah, the joys of raising teens! One minute you’re their hero, the next, you’re the ghost haunting their bedrooms, wondering where all the dishes, utensils, and missing snacks have gone. They’re nowhere to be found when you call them for dinner, but leave them in their room for five minutes, and every plate and cup you own somehow winds up in there. It’s like they’re running their own private bed-and-breakfast up there, complete with midnight snacks and a “no parents allowed” policy.

So, where did we go wrong? We poured so much love, attention, and (let’s face it) stuff into their lives to fill the gaps we felt as kids. (However, looking back I believe we had a great childhood, without all this Stuff). We gave them the video games, the gadgets, the phones—all the things we never had. We wanted to be the cool parents, the ones who understood. But now? Now they don’t answer our calls. They’re ghosting us like we’re a forgotten social media account.

I don’t know about you, but the only time I feel like I’m getting through is when I am banging on the ceiling (three times, to be exact, totally old school like my nanny would do when she was calling us) just to remind them that, yes, it’s still my house, and, no, I’m not above a full-blown utensil search-and-rescue mission. And let’s not even talk about the laundry! Sometimes I’m convinced they think their hamper is a mythical creature meant only for legends.

Can you relate? Are we all, the once-cherished parents, reduced to ghostly figures wandering the halls, quietly hunting down forks, plates, and maybe—just maybe—a smidgen of the connection we used to have?

If you’re out there, please tell me it’s not just me haunting the hallways. Tell me you’re also knee-deep in wrappers and missing mugs, clinging to the hope that one day, the mystery of the vanished cutlery might lead to some kind of resolution. Until then, I’ll just keep calling, keep knocking, and keep hunting for a little piece of my kitchen and maybe a piece of my heart too.

Just a quick note: this post is all in good fun, poking humor at our “search and rescue” missions for missing utensils and the chaos of messy teen rooms. My teens may have their moments, but there’s no shortage of love in our house—I get plenty of long, unexpected hugs that remind me how much we mean to each other.