The boy and I got into a roof-raising fight earlier this evening. For, seemingly, no reason at all - - not that I could tell anyways. I asked him to get away from his computer and mow the lawn before it got dark. He blew. He’s 15 years old - does he need a reason? Well…yea, he better have one helluva good reason to blow at me like that. He tells me he just has ’stuff on his mind’ and is ‘going through things’ that cause him to blow easily these days. I try to get him to talk about it. I get the usual ‘you wouldn’t understand’ and ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ - -typical teenage stuff.

So I stand my ground. I told him that if he is going to dare raise his voice to me and treat me with such disrespect and give me the reason that it’s because he’s ‘going through things’ - the he damn well is going to tell me what those things are. I’m not going to take the brunt of his issues without understanding what they are. Not me. Not this mother.

He refuses to talk.

So I ask. “Are you on drugs?”

He looks at me like I’m out of my frickin’ mind (encouraging). “No,” he says, “are you nuts?”.

“Nope, not nuts. You are ‘going through things’ and won’t talk - so I’m assuming the worst. Are you in trouble with the cops?”

Again - the ‘are you nuts look’ - - “You’d be the first to know, don’t’ you think?”.

“Ok. Is it a girl? A breakup? Did you knock her up? Venereal disease, perhaps?”

“MOM!! - - Geez!! No!”

“OK - we’ve eliminated drugs, cops, a break up, pregnancy and venereal disease. I’m thinking the worst here, kid, because you must have one hell of a good reason to be going off on me like that. So talk.”

He fidgets. Fumes. Makes excuses. Changes the subject. Ahh..but he does underestimate my stubborn streak, doesn’t he? I persist. Come up with outrageous things that I’m going to assume it is until he tells me. He keeps his lip zipped.

So, I get out the yellow pages and start looking. “What are you doing now?” he asks.

“Looking for a doctor to deal with nut case 15 year olds who blow up at their mother for no good reason except to say he’s ‘going through things’. It must be pretty bad if you’re willing to piss me off this much - - you won’t talk to me about it, so I figure I’ll schedule a nightly appointment for you with a psych doctor who will, if he has to give you shock treatments and a frontal lobotomy in order to do it.”

So he spills his guts. Poor kid - - he just doesn’t know me well enough.

My 15 year old son has the worst case of acne you’ve ever seen. Ok - maybe not the worst, but it is pretty bad. We’ve tried everything, it seems, from antibiotic treatment, herbal treatment and every acne treatment under the sun. Somethings work, somewhat - but it’s like his skin becomes immune to every treatment we try. Whenever we try a new one - it works pretty well for about 2 weeks…then he’s back to pizza face city again.

The doctor has told us that we just have to wait it out until those awkward early teenage puberty stages work their way through. I’m unsatisfied with that answer and feel that there must be some kind of better answer out there somewhere. I’m calling tomorrow to get him into the dermatologist and plan to stop screwing around with our general family practitioner.

This is his issue. Acne. Ben is starting his first year of high school in about a month and he is already stressed about his face. “It’s a monstrosity, Mom”

I feel bad for the kid and plan to move heaven and earth to figure this thing out. In the meantime, I swear if that kid yells at me like that again, I’ll be putting an advertisement in GoogleAds: “Free 15 year old with acne and issues - to the first caller!”