Families are really annoying ...
“Why are you so moody?”, “Don’t take your tiredness out on me!”, “Don’t take that tone with me!”, “Where are you going?”, “What are you doing?”
I’m an only child, from a single-parent home, living in the middle of nowhere, so I often wonder: does every parent have the How to Irritate Your Child handbook? Or is it just me? Does every teenager have a family who knows exactly which buttons to press? Or is it just me? Amelia Salt, age 14
I am the youngest of five. When I tell people that, I’m always asked whether I’m babied and I tell them, unfortunately, no, I’m not. My family don’t bring me food if I cry or carry me to bed if I’m tired, nothing useful. Instead, they patronise and annoy me. For example, before crossing a busy road, my 24-year-old sister will often, unconsciously, attempt to take hold of my hand to “guide me safely” across the road. If I am watching something rated 15 or over and a sibling comes in wanting to watch something else they will automatically deem what I’m watching to be “too violent” then (most frequently using violence) extract the remote control from me and do as they please. I am babied, but not in any of the good ways. Gabriella Barnes, 16
I can’t say it’s easy to resist the temptation of beating my family with a plank. I have an older brother who is 18 and away doing work experience, and a 21-year-old, high-achieving sister, who loves to point out my faults and throw an occasionally house-rattling tantrum. I regularly come downstairs to find Mum doing Zumba and twerking tutorials she finds on YouTube, and Dad has a tendency to leave books such as The Multi-org*smic Man in places like the landing or the kitchen table, so home can be a very risky place to bring friends to. Pearl, 14
... but we still love them
When I hear the word “family”, a bittersweet feeling comes over me. For one, there’s the never-ending disturbance. My sister barging into my room on a Saturday, nagging me to wake up, Mum shouting to walk the dog and Dad shouting at me to go out and buy something. They are constantly getting on my nerves until I want to scream, picking on me at every opportunity and selecting the best (worst) possible times to embarrass me. But I forgive them because they are the people who have seen me at my worst and still stick by me. Ramya Zwaal, 14
Family is my mum shouting that we live in a pigsty, but I can tell her anything and she always seems to know what to do when I’m in trouble; it is my dad cracking jokes that nobody understands; it is my brother telling me that I can’t go out in a skirt that length, but then saying he’s proud of me after my exams; it is my other brother walking me home when I’m out late. Truthfully, I’d say that most of the time my family is pure madness, but it’s a madness that I can’t live without. Yelena Zylko, 16
As a young child, I looked at my family and saw only happiness. What reason would anybody possibly have to be sad? I felt loved and safe, unknowing of the secrets that rustled just underneath the surface of what my young eyes saw. They kept themselves hidden and only emerged when I slept.
As I grew older, I became more perceptive. I caught glimpses of the secrets scurrying through the house and as I learned more, my bubble of innocence popped. The jigsaw of family life no longer fitted together perfectly as I came to understand that families, as a rule, are complicated. My family was no exception. I am happy to be part of it, though – my strange, tangled family – because I belong in the knotted mess of it all. Ruby Simpson, 15
As a kid, you see your parents as these infallible, intangible perfect heroes and when you get old enough to know better, you become angry at them for lying to you about being perfect. Emerging from a kind of pubescent fog, you realise that they had no idea what they were getting themselves into by having you as a child because you hadn’t been born yet, so you become more forgiving and kind of half-friends with them. You rationalise this to yourself by pretending it’s just a method of getting more freedom and money. Joe Cooper, 18
I have one brother called Tom who is eight and from the moment he wakes up his mouth does not shut.
Earlier this year, Tom burned his hand (slightly) and poor him and all that, but there’s only so much crying I can take. So after two hours I guess I was in a pretty bad mood.
Monday nights are the worst. Everyone is tired and at the dinner table everyone argues, so by the end we are all itching to get out of our seats. However, I do love them.
Tom makes me laugh every single day, Mum never fails to sort out my troubled plans and Dad is always prepared to give his honest opinion … even if it’s not exactly wanted. Holly Owen, 14
Once you reach seven or eight, it is assumed that you’re too old for someone to read you a story. But being a teenager with a younger brother means that I still live in a house where reading out loud happens. My brother will bring the book into my parents’ room, and soon the house will be quiet, the only noise being Mum’s voice and the swish of pages. As Paddington or the Moomins take life, my dad closes his laptop, and my sister and I remove our earphones. It is a precious time. Kate Taylor, 13
A reasonable portion of my childhood consisted of snuggling in a duvet on the floor in the back room of our parents’ chip shop, while my parents worked away, manning fryers and kebab machines. From a six-year-old’s perspective, their work seemed exciting, with junk food galore and all the late nights you could possibly want.
Unfortunately, that is not the case. The endless hard work takes its toll on my parents. They are stress volcanoes, waiting to erupt. But their problems are only a small part of them. They had an arranged marriage in India, and were married only three days after meeting, but they have stuck at it for almost 20 years. They’ve overcome cultural differences and mountains of stress solely for us children, and for that I am grateful. Priyen Morjaria, 16
Dads, siblings and grannies get a mention (mums don’t)
My dad recently moved halfway across the world and I’m fine. And if you’re trying to detect the slightest tear in my eye, the smallest crack in my voice, you’re wasting your time. Even before my dad decided to move back to Ivory Coast, my family life was never stereotypical. I’m mixed race, an only child, my parents have been separated since the age of four and I wouldn’t have it any other way – cereal-packet families are overrated.
In the past, I cared more about what other people might think. It was strange that my dad lived in London while my mum and I lived in Newport, south Wales. I remember crying when some boys in my class pulled my hair because they had never seen anything so curly. And I was desperate to hide any aspect of my life that was remotely different to “normal”. I hated writing my full name on anything because my middle name is unusual. And I certainly wouldn’t have told people my dad lived in Africa.
My attitude drastically changed when I went to a sixth-form college 40 miles from where I live. Being surrounded by a diverse range of people made me appreciate how lucky I am. I have family from Ivory Coast to Dewsbury. I’ve experienced endless languages, lifestyles and cultures. I’ve led anything but a sheltered life and I have my family to thank for that.
So, before you ask, yes, honestly, I’m fine. In fact, I’m incredibly lucky to have a dad who lives 4,683 miles away. It is just one more thing to add to the list of unusual and interesting things about me. My middle name is Ahou by the way. Pronounced “ah-oo”. I rather like it. Lily Stubley-Adje, 17
Meal times: “That mouthful looks too big! Put it down and cut it into smaller chunks.” (I try to ignore the churning sounds of him gulping.) “Stop talking with your mouth full!” (I watch the washing machine of food in his mouth.) “Put your cutlery down and finish one mouthful before you take another.”
What I want to say: “Dad, stop eating so loud it sounds like your throat is a boa constrictor forcing down a deer!” “Dad, stop making so much noise with your cutlery – it’s like nails on a blackboard!” “Dad, your mouth is full! Stop spraying me with mushy, chewed food while you berate me”.
What I actually say, as I carefully put down my cutlery and fold my napkin: “Lovely dinner, Mum, thanks. Shall I clear the table?” Beeban Jikiemi-Pearson, 13
Dear Dad, Mum has told me to write a letter to you. It’s lame, I know, but I think it takes the bigger person to address these feelings and just leaving them doesn’t help.
When you have had a bad day at work, I’m an easy target for you. I know I did the same to you and Mum during my end-of-year exam revision. I’m also jealous of Jack and would like you to treat us equally. I know you have more in common with him but we have some shared interests.
I know I’ve started to swear too much and I know I shouldn’t, but you know how to push my buttons and I know how to push yours and that makes us both angry and upset. I will try to stop swearing if you will try to get along with me.
Love, your 13-year-old daughter x
I am a middle child with two sisters. My elder sister, Katie, is the golden sibling: top marks in every exam, first team for sport and recently accepted into Cambridge. I have never failed an exam but I’ve never had the top mark, either, nothing that could outshine Katie. Recently, I had a cold and lost my voice. A day later, Katie returned home from a trip with mumps. I remember joking about how she always had to be better than me at everything – including being ill.
It’s always been like this, ever since we were young. I remember in primary school I was awarded a golden certificate for working hard. I couldn’t stop grinning all day – until Katie reminded me that she had received not one, but two golden certificates.
When I moved to high school, I was no longer Beth but “Katie’s sister”. I had one teacher who would spend ages fawning over Katie and telling me to pass messages on to my sister such as, “Tell Katie I’m very disappointed she dropped a mark in her exam, one mark off 100%!” I can’t really remember much from that teacher’s lessons, but I could write a novel on the merits of Katie.
A few years ago, I moved to a new school where nobody knew Katie and so I stopped being compared with her. I was no longer judged by her standards, but my own. This motivated me to work harder. But even though others weren’t comparing me with Katie, I still was. Having a golden sibling has shown me that you have to work hard to get what you want: I have seen the hours and dedication that Katie puts into everything that she does. It has also given me a goal in life – to one day beat Katie at something.
Beth Archibald, 15
Being a youngest is great … until you find that the elder sibling has flown the nest, leaving you with just your parents and no one to roll your eyes across the table at when that indescribably dull argument about whether there’s been an over-purchase of cheese that week is revived. Rosemary Evans, 16
Visiting Gran
My gran is getting old. Every time I visit, she’s older. She goes to bed earlier and earlier. Everyone to their beds at 10pm and no talking, or else!
Every time I visit, she seems to worry more. When I go out, she worries that I might get lost. I have to carry her number on a slip of paper in my back pocket. But it seems to me she’s really worrying that she will be lost without me.
She remembers the days when I was just a toddler, running around with all that childlike excitement. And the family card games where she and I formed a very effective cheaters’ alliance. I think we both want those days back and we’re beginning to realise they’re not coming back.
Her quirks seem irrational to me, but although we don’t always see eye to eye I know she has my best interests at heart. After all, she is my gran.
Oisin Lyons, 14
It all went downhill into a ditch after my maternal grandmother died. I did not realise how imbalanced everything had become. Not only did I lose her, but the breakup of my parents’ marriage was announced.
It all happened amid the dismantling of furniture and the selling of my grandmother’s house, an institution for strays and waifs, of kin or anybody who’d talk, a house that was there to stay in and visit on the way home from school, on holidays, and just because she was there, usually with a tin or five full of biscuits and a comb. I was legally an adult, but my teenage angst got the better of me.
Mollie Davidson, 18
Teenagers are under pressure
I do understand that family should come first but school is forcing me to slave away for hours, leaving family in second place. It is midnight and I have been doing course work since 8pm. I have done two hours of cello practice.
“We work hard too,” is my parents’ daily mantra. But I am only 17, and constantly inundated with mountains upon mountains of work: a multitude of expectations carelessly slung alongside constant overhanging thoughts on whether I am too fat, too tall or too blonde.
I want to go to Oxbridge. One night off is a giant leap backwards from my goal. I just wish, you, my loving parents, could understand that I must do everything I can to get there, which sadly means for now, family is going to have to take a backseat. Poppy Kemp, 15
I don’t go out every night with friends or have a consistently riveting love life, which sometimes is depressing (as in looking out of a moving car window while listening to music, pretending to be the protagonist of a movie kind of depressing) and can feel boring as hell. However, family is where I can remove myself from the pressures of my social calendar, release tension and anxiety, and feel comfortable enough to decide that, yes, I will wear my glasses today instead of contact lenses, and no, I will not wear makeup. I’ve learned that most of the typical pressures that come with being a teenager come from yourself, and that embracing family life as a positive, comforting reality increases your appreciation of your family members and your friends.
Rosanna Martin, 16
We need to talk – but it’s hard
I love my family to bits, in the same way I know they love me. But there are problems within our little unit that I think most families must suffer from: miscommunication, a lot of frustration, and a lack of understanding.
There is space between all of us – large and unbridgeable – that we cannot close. I would like to, but cannot, reach out and tell my parents about the things that give me nightmares, that make me loud and possessive, or about the real reasons I need counsellors at school. What I am talking about is not the usual “no one understands me” teenage trope, but a deep sense of longing.
Anonymous, 16
My parents have always worked very hard to establish strong and honest communication within the household. Nearly every night before I went to bed, one of my parents would come into my room, sit at my bedside, and simply ask me, “How are you? Anything you need to talk about?” This was something good for me because it meant that my parents were not just parents, but also my friends and confidants. Another custom they had was to take me out somewhere each month or so, perhaps for a coffee, to have some quality time and talk about how we were doing.
They do the same with my younger brother and although this may not be common in many families, I fully believe good communication is crucial for healthy relationships among members of the family. Samuel Frith, 17
Adolescence is hard (sometimes, but not always)
Adults seem to believe that once their bright, inquisitive, innocent child turns 13, it morphs into an antisocial, argumentative, Neanderthal-type who is only capable of selfish and stupid acts: suddenly, everything changes.
Not only do adults cling to this annoying and slightly ridiculous idea, but there is also the equally annoying notion that my parents and lifelong adult family friends no longer “know” me because of the music I like and my appearance. Which, admittedly, have at times been somewhat intriguing.
Somewhere along the line, adults have forgotten that it is not how we rebel that they need to understand, but the feelings and thoughts that compel us to do so. Tallulah Hoffmann, 15
When my older sister became a teenager, she started having very strange mood swings (as my mum calls them). As in, one minute she was stomping around having a tantrum and the next she would be happily reading a book or watching a film. She would shut herself in her bedroom (dark like a dungeon) for hours on end.
Now it’s my turn to be that teenager. My sister still is one, too (and getting better at it), but now I know how it feels. You can’t control your temper – it just happens. It hurts me sometimes because when I snap out of one of my moods, I realise that I’ve hurt someone else. Rachel Trew, 13
I have Asperger’s, dyspraxia, dyslexia and dyscalculia and attend a specialist residential college. I come home at weekends and during school holidays: it is the strangest feeling, coming home. When I first walk in, I honestly don’t know what my role is. Mother’s role is looking after everyone and cooking. Father’s role is going to work. Brother’s role is to sit on his laptop and my sister’s role is to watch whatever rubbish is on the TV. So what’s my role?
When I am back at the weekends, my role is to sit in a corner with a laptop and be a bloody miserable teenager for 48 hours – that I can do, but not for six full weeks. At college, I’m a student and you can’t be a student at home, so what can you be? The loving brother and son for four people you rarely see? A hunched-back teenager in a corner? A stranger in the house?
George Nicholls, 18
Am I the stereotypical teenager? I don’t think so. I’m not even sure it exists. Certainly, I find my parents embarrassing. My dad dances in the car and sings to the Frozen soundtrack (loudly), my mum yells “toodlepip” to the boy I like and calls me those forbidden nicknames in front of the headteacher. My little sister’s always in my room decorating her face with my makeup. My brother’s always laughing at my hair. Yes, I argue and lose my temper with my family, but I don’t slam doors, stomp up the stairs or grunt. We get on well and nothing changed from 12 to 13 that I am aware of. Lottie Quinn, 13
Growing up, leaving home
Children are told they can be whatever they want to be when they grow up. However, when these children become teenagers, everything changes. Nobody tells you which GCSEs an astronaut must take, or the type of work experience that will aid a pop star. Dreams become unreasonable. How am I supposed to follow my dreams when everyone around me is trying to hold me back? Jemima Pain, 14
I’m attempting to figure out what my family life will look like when I move to university. Will I still be able to talk to my parents in the same way? Can they still help me when they’re not there with me? Will I be able to manage on my own? Keziah Watson, 17
