The eye roll olympics

Teenage eye rolls should really qualify as an Olympic sport, and my daughter is a gold medalist. At first, every roll felt like a personal attack, as if she were saying, “You are the most annoying human alive.” I would snap back, and suddenly we’d be in a pointless argument about nothing. One day, instead of getting mad, I tried rolling my eyes back at her in exaggerated slow motion. She burst out laughing, and for the first time in weeks, the tension broke. That tiny experiment taught me that humor works better than lectures, and honestly, it felt pretty good to win the eye-roll war by laughing.

The messy room truce

Her room is a disaster zone clothes on the floor, half-empty cups hidden like archaeological treasures, and makeup dust everywhere. My old self would storm in like a drill sergeant, shouting about respect and hygiene. But I started asking myself: do I want to ruin both our evenings over a pile of hoodies? Instead, I made a rule: clean your room once a week and in between I’ll pretend the chaos doesn’t exist. Surprisingly, she actually started cleaning more often when I stopped nagging. Turns out, letting go of control saved me stress and gave her space to take responsibility. Plus, I discovered it’s possible to survive without knowing what’s lurking under her bed.

Breathing instead of barking

I used to fire off angry responses before I even thought. Now, when she tests my patience, I take a big, dramatic yoga breath. Sometimes I even make a loud “ocean breath” sound just to be ridiculous. She usually laughs and says, “Mom, you’re so weird,” which is still better than us yelling at each other. Giving myself those three seconds of breath stops me from saying things I’d regret and keeps the mood lighter. Anger may feel powerful in the moment, but it never actually gets her to listen. Breathing and silliness, on the other hand, weirdly seem to work.

Funny chaos

What I’ve learned is that being less mad doesn’t mean ignoring everything it means choosing what’s worth the battle. If I can laugh about the glitter explosion in the bathroom instead of flipping out, we both win. If I can accept that sarcasm is her second language, then maybe I can even enjoy the wit behind it. There are still days I lose my cool (I’m not a saint), but now I try to apologize quickly and reset. The more I show her that I can stay playful even when I’m frustrated, the more she opens up instead of shutting down. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll both make it through the teenage years with our sanity intact.