I’m 35 and I have a 16-year-old and a 14-year-old. They’re good kids, mostly. I mean, they’re teenagers, so that comes with the territory, but I can’t complain. The best part is that I’m still young enough to do stuff with them without looking like the odd one out.
The weird part is that we’re the youngest parents at their school, and it feels strange for us and for them sometimes. My mom had me when she was 18. I’m 18 now, and she’s 36. She honestly hasn’t aged in ten years, and everyone assumes we’re sisters.
My dad, on the other hand, could pass for my dad, or if we’re out at a bar, maybe my sugar daddy. We go out sometimes and I never get carded. It’s like living inside a Gilmore Girls episode. It’s easier for me to understand what my daughter is going through because high school wasn’t that long ago for me.
I remember exactly what it felt like. Also, she’s seen me struggle through my twenties as a young mom, and that’s definitely set her on a different path. She volunteers at a women’s shelter, she’s on the honor roll, and she wants to go into law enforcement. Because the age gap is smaller, things haven’t changed as drastically between us as they would have if I were older.
It’s annoying when parents don’t get that things are different now. My mom is 35 and I’m 19. She’s way more in the know than my friends’ parents when it comes to pop culture. Sometimes I feel like she’s wilder than me because she never got a chance to get it out of her system when she was my age.
From what she’s told me, having me saved her future. We’re really close. Jump ahead a generation. When I graduated high school, my parents were in their early to mid-thirties.
My dad was 16 when I was born. I was a stupid 17-year-old and I thought my parents were old people. Now I’m 34 with my first child, and I can’t wrap my mind around that. Both of my parents were in their forties when I was born, and it wasn’t until I was 18 and they were pushing 60 that I realized they were actually getting old.
Today is my daughter’s 20th birthday. I’m 38. It’s weird for people like us because we didn’t have the same life most people did. From the time I was 18, I had the responsibility of another person’s life.
Most of my friends were out partying and being selfish, in a good way, living for themselves. My life was focused on giving my daughter a good one. I knew I didn’t want more kids, and now that she’s an adult, it’s great. I got to experience everything that comes with being a parent, and I’m 38 and the hard part is done.
I have friends who are just now starting to have babies. No thanks. It was always weird being in between. Among my peers, I was always ahead because I was the one going to softball games on Sunday morning instead of nursing a hangover.
Okay, sometimes it was both. But all the other parents were way older. Walking into my first parent-teacher conference, I felt like I was about to get in trouble. It also leads to some strange situations.
I used to go geocaching with my daughter on weekends, and I remember some lady grilling me because I was a 24-year-old guy walking out of the woods with a 6-year-old girl. Nobody ever thinks, “Oh, you’re her dad. ” I also had to bust up a house party she threw at her mom’s foreclosed house when she was around 17. I walked in and looked around for her, and nobody had the sense to realize I was a parent.
It wasn’t until I started screaming, “Everyone get the hell out before the cops show up,” that they figured out I wasn’t there to hang out. Though I have to admit, I was pretty proud. They had blacked out all the windows so no light escaped, and they had a full DJ setup with a sound system. Seventeen-year-old me would have loved that party.
It’s fun to go somewhere with them and watch people assume you’re a couple. Society can be pretty perverted. I married into a ready-made family that made me a grandfather at 39. My wife’s oldest child had a kid as a teenager.
By my mid-forties, I had four grandchildren. Personally, I didn’t like being a parent. I don’t feel like I was good at it, and I didn’t get any satisfaction or enjoyment from it. The teen years were rough.
My two oldest had serious behavioral issues, and my oldest has spent years in prison for drug trafficking and many more in juvenile detention for theft and malicious mischief. But I love being a grandparent. It’s been a complete shift for me. I don’t know why, but I enjoy spending time with my grandkids and offer to babysit pretty often.
I’m young enough to actually enjoy them without being the old man. I make enough money now to spoil them, and I have vacation time to take them to the zoo or Disneyland or whatever I want. My relationship with my two younger kids has improved a lot, but the oldest is still in prison and won’t take responsibility for his actions or the danger he poses to his children. That relationship is still strained.
Keep trying, Dad. He’ll come around or he won’t. I’m 37 with a 16-year-old, a 14-year-old, and a 9-year-old. It’s awesome being this age with teenagers.
I have tons of energy compared to the older parents. When I coach my kids’ volleyball, basketball, or soccer teams, I can still get on the field and play with them. I love schooling teenagers. Teachers are usually friendlier to us because they see us as closer to their age.
I feel bad for my friends who are dealing with their biological clocks ticking and stressing about marriage and babies. The biggest downside has been trying to build real friendships. Most parents bond over the age of their kids, so we often feel left out because we’re still young and active and don’t fit the typical parent of a 16-year-old. We didn’t plan to be teen parents, but I don’t regret it at all.
I look forward to seven years from now when the kids are all out of high school and we’re 44-year-old empty nesters. That’s pretty sweet. My son is 14, and he’s almost three inches taller than me now. I’m the cool mom to all his friends.
He’s a really good kid and gets involved in everything he puts his mind to. I feel like it’s payback for all the crap society threw at me when I got pregnant with him in high school. Teachers wanted me to drop out, and the principal didn’t want me walking with my class because it would look bad for morale. Screw your morale.
I graduated high school and college with honors. My son knows my history, knows what I went through, and knows what he needs to do to keep it from repeating. But above all, he’s my son, and he knows that too. Someone commented that I’m the cool mom, but I’m 90 percent sure I’m the hot mom to all his friends.
I’m not 30 yet, but my husband is. I’m 27. We had our first child when I was 16 and he was 18. She’s 11 now and has that whole preteen thing going on.
We’ve been married 11 years and have three more kids, 10, 7, and 2. It’s definitely weird sometimes because most of our friends have one or two toddlers, and our daughter is already wearing a training bra. But there are cool things. We’re still young, and she thinks we’re cool sometimes.
We like video games and modern music. But if I even hint at dancing, I get the “OMG, Mom, you’re so old, that’s so embarrassing” routine. She tells us how old and decrepit we are. Her word, not mine.
But she also tells us how old her friends’ parents are, like, “So-and-so’s parents are so old, like 45, old like Nana. ”
I’m 59. My daughter is 42, has a 21-year-old who has a little boy who’s two, which makes me a great-grandmother. Unbelievable.
This early motherhood thing goes back in my family to the mid-18th century. We’re not living in a van down by the river, though. I’m a professional, and so are both of my children. Having a baby at 17 isn’t optimal, but it worked out for me.
I delayed going back to school until my kids were in high school. That was my choice. It wouldn’t be right for everyone. The best thing about having children young is youth itself.
When my son was born, I was 21, and I was young enough to play and run and crawl around on the floor and wake up the next day ready to do it again. I was 37 when I became a grandmother. I was young enough to have more fun with my grandkids than most people, and I took full advantage. This new one, the two-year-old, pushes my endurance in ways the previous two generations didn’t.
Would I change any of it if I could go back to being 16 and not pregnant? Not if it meant missing out on the specific people in my life. It’s been tough, though. It’s not all Sesame Street and applesauce, but the good parts are breathtaking.
I’ve lived to love seven descendants, and each one is unique and irreplaceable. I’m the teen baby. I can honestly say my mom is the best woman I’ve ever met and ever will meet. I’m 18 now.
I had a wonderful childhood. She worked her butt off for me and gave me everything I ever wanted. I know this doesn’t really answer the question. I just had to give a shout-out to my mom.
Have her read this, then give her a hug. I’m the product of a teenage mom. I could have gone the same way, since it seemed to be a pattern on my mom’s side, but given my upbringing, I knew what I didn’t want. My mom, my stepdad, and that whole situation showed me what not to do, and it did the same for at least one of my two sisters.
The jury is still out on the littlest one. So far so good. That said, I was still young when I had my oldest. I was almost 23.
I had married my high school sweetheart, and we just felt kids were naturally next. I don’t mind that my kids are a bit older than my friends’ kids. My oldest turns 13 this year, and it’s killing me a little more each day as it gets closer. I’ll turn 36 shortly after.
I’m happy for him to be more independent, but I’m still sad that he’ll officially be a teenager this year. I was 19, my wife was 18. Our kids are now 25 and 21. My son just graduated from Navy Nuclear Power School, one of the toughest programs in the world.
My daughter is married and on her own. No kids. So at 44 and 42, we’re empty nesters, except for our two crazy French bulldogs. Life is good.
I knew someone like this. A friend tried for a mother-daughter threesome. It didn’t work. And while that’s a common scenario in porn, I highly doubt those actors are actually related.
So your friend sounds kind of like a pervert. I was 19 when I had my son. You’d think we’d be generationally closer, but there’s a chasm between a 14-year-old and a 33-year-old today. I feel it’s wider than it was between 14-year-old me and a 33-year-old back then, mostly because of technology.
The years haven’t been kind, but I can pass for early forties, which is a blessing. I don’t get as much stigma as I used to when he was younger, from teachers and scout leaders and so on. I also have two small children. I love them dearly, but I’ll be the parent of someone under 18 for almost 30 years.
I got pregnant at 19 and gave birth two months after I turned 20. I’m 29 with a 9-year-old now. I’m the youngest mom at her school, but that’s only because we live in a beach city and it’s expensive here. If I moved inland, I’d probably meet younger parents.
It’s pretty awesome that when I’m 38 I’ll be done raising kids, assuming I don’t have any more. It’s nice to have a 9-year-old because I wake up most mornings to a cup of coffee she brewed and put honey and milk in for me. We get our nails done together, and she’s like a little best friend. She’s ridiculously well-behaved, and I’m so happy I refused to abort her, like at least five people suggested and two offered to pay for.
Her dad owes just under 60 grand in child support. He was 19 too and handled it badly. Anyway, it’s awesome having a preteen at 29 because she’s like my little buddy and she lights up my life. Not quite teens, but I took my sons, ages 20 and 24 at the time, on my bachelor party to Amsterdam when I was 41.
My ex had my eldest when I was 17. There were 20 of us, including my sons. Much fun and hilarity was had. I had my son when I was 15.
He’s 14 now, and I’m 29. Everyone thinks we’re siblings because I look younger than my age. Most people think I’m 21 to 25, which doesn’t help. Most of his friends’ parents are well into their fifties, so I don’t exactly hang out with them or know them well.
People have questioned whether I’m his parent, mainly because I’m young. We’ll probably get mistaken for girlfriend and boyfriend when he’s in his twenties. I had my son at 15 too. Now that he’s in school, it’s funny that some of his teachers taught me also.
When he was younger, people would say, “Your brother is so cute. ”
I’m a stepdad. My wife had her first of two kids at 19 and is a few years older than me. So now I’m a 30-year-old with a 14-year-old boy.
For context, I’ve been living with them for five years and around them for six. It’s wild. Sometimes I kick butt as a dad, and sometimes I feel like I blow it. That’s probably par for the course.
For what it’s worth, I don’t have a lot in common with my teenage son, but a little more with my stepdaughter, who’s a couple years younger. Probably helps that I’ve been around for half his life too. Not that my relationship with my son is bad, but we have to compromise to hang out. I’ve never been a video game person, so we’ll play Halo together because he likes it, and I struggle through it while he struggles with how much I suck at the mission.
I’m also not sure that at 30 I’m ready to be challenged by a teenager in the way they typically challenge you. So I just try my best to be real and honest and to listen. I look young, so it’s hard forming relationships with other parents. Usually I get pegged as the much older sibling.
Sometimes I feel like I lost the last half of my twenties. I’d have liked to travel more, had more time for hobbies, and enjoyed my money when I started earning it. It feels like half my paycheck goes to groceries because of a teenage son. I can provide a middle-class life for my kids at this age, but my biggest regret is that I probably won’t be able to help much with college, if at all.
I won’t have hit my peak earning potential yet. On the flip side, they’ll be adults earning for themselves by the time I’m 40. I’m really excited to relax and do adult things with my kids. They’re good kids, and I hope they’ll be good adults with solid values.
I think it’ll be a lot of fun to do silly things and share a few beers. I have to be so serious with them sometimes. Meanwhile, I’m less than ten years out of college, and I did some funny stuff in my twenties. They think I’m old and don’t even know.
Both kids were accidents. I love my sons anyway. They’re turning 30 this year, and if my kids move out by 18 or 20, being early to mid-forties will be glorious. I’m 32 and my wife is 36.
We have a 16-year-old, an 8-year-old, a 4-year-old, and a newborn. I’ll be honest, having a new baby at this age is exhausting. Yeah, it was scary the first time, but we had the energy to cope back then. It helps that they’re all great kids.
I have to work hard, up to 90 hours a week, to keep up with the bills, but it allows my wife to stay home so the kids always have a parent around. My father died when I was seven, so hopefully I’ll have more years with my kids than I had with my own dad. If I could give new parents one piece of advice, buy a dining table. It’s probably the most important thing in our house.
Sitting down and eating together as a family is what keeps us all sane. My wife and I are in our mid-thirties and we have three teenagers, 17, 14, and 14. Not twins, different marriages. Our oldest graduates this year, and I’m excited for her to become an adult and start college.
In four more years, all my kids will be in college and we’ll be empty nesters. I’m 40, and for some reason that makes me feel awesome because we’ll have a long time to enjoy our middle years without kids. Obviously we’ll always be there for them as they go through adulthood, but now we can travel and not worry about what to do with the kids. I’m 35 and my son is 16.
I like him. It’s good to know that when he’s 18 and off to college, I’ll only be 38 and have plenty of time to have fun. I didn’t miss out on parties and drunken shenanigans because that’s not my style. I’ve already got an established career, so I’ll get to do things I never could have afforded or enjoyed in my twenties.
On the other hand, I’m not sure what I’m going to do without him. It’s just been the two of us for so long. He’s kind of my partner in crime. I get a little panicky if I think about it too long.
I know he needs to go live his life. I’ve raised him to be a good dude, and I trust he’ll be okay. I’m just not sure what I’m supposed to do with myself when he’s out there on his own and not home hanging out with me. No more weird teenage boys at my house.
Nobody to clean up after. Nobody to nag about laundry. Nobody to DJ for me while we drive aimlessly on back roads all night. Nobody to laugh at my stupid jokes.
Nobody to fuss over. On another note, I’m 16 and my mom is 31. Her family completely wrote her off and didn’t talk to her for years. My dad is 32, and his family was super excited about having a baby.
We lived with my grandparents until about five years ago, when my dad finally got his degree. I actually like having young parents because they have tons of energy to do things with me that I’ve never seen any of my friends’ parents do. My parents had me as high school seniors, ages 17 and 18. I’m in my twenties now and finishing college, but growing up was rough.
Both parents struggled to make money. They didn’t stay together, and as a kid I always felt behind. My friends had nice clothes, fun houses, cool toys, and supportive families. I was making my own dinner at age seven while my mom worked, and I’d see my dad about twice a month.
I grew up feeling like a guest in my own home because I bounced from house to house so often. Now they’re both remarried with kids, have successful jobs, and are happy. We have a good relationship, but I can’t help feeling like I’m just a leftover artifact from their troubled past. Like they’re just waiting for me to graduate college and become fully financially independent so they can wash their hands of me.
I’m not a parent, but my mom had me when she was 15, and she loved it. She said there were a lot of struggles, but overall she doesn’t regret it. It’s also been nice being the kid of a younger parent. It’s easier to be close, and they can relate to me more.
I have more fun with my mom because of how young she is. I never felt like she was a bad mother. She pushed me in school and is paying for my university right now. She had four kids by 30 and loved it.
I got pregnant with my oldest at 17 and gave birth at 18. I had my second at 23 and my youngest at 25. I’m 40 now, so the kids are 22, 17, and 15. I loved being a young mother.
I had energy and enthusiasm. I wasn’t as cynical, and I had more patience. When I was in my thirties with a teenager, a preteen, and one a bit younger, my friends and neighbors were just starting their families, dealing with sleepless nights, spit-up, and child-proofing the whole block. I was happy to be past all that mess.
I’m 32 with 14-year-old twins. It’s weird. People who meet me at work or elsewhere assume that when I talk about my kids, I mean young kids, under 10. The first time a newer coworker heard my son on the phone, she genuinely thought it was a man calling me and that I was just messing with her when I said it was my teenage son.
I’m also told I look 25 to 27 rather than 32, so that adds to it. At school sports events, people think I’m the aunt or older sister instead of the mom. I can see other parents trying to figure out my age. Did I have them as a teenager, or do I just look good for my age?
And how old was I when they were born? It’s awkward making small talk with people 10 to 20 years older than me all the time, but sometimes it works. One of my best parent friends is a woman in her late sixties raising her grandson. My kids, especially my 11-year-old daughter, are a little self-conscious about my age.
My twins are boys, and I know they’d sooner die than tell me, but I think there have been a few “the twins’ mom is hot” comments. I also took all my kids to a coffee place I usually stop at alone on my way to work, and the barista made a big fuss about not thinking I was old enough to be their mom. My 11-year-old nearly died of embarrassment. I had my oldest when I was almost out of my teens, two months before turning 20.
She turns 16 next month. It’s been a roller coaster. The first couple years were hard because I struggled with severe postpartum depression that went undiagnosed until I got into therapy when she was about 18 months old. I missed out on a lot while I was sick, including building the parent-child bond that’s critical for a baby.
Fortunately, my mother held it together until I got better. But she was the one who bonded with my daughter in a parental way, and reintroducing myself as her mother was awful for all of us. My relationship with my daughter is pretty fantastic now. I remember clearly what the teenage experience is like, and that informs a lot of how I interact with her.
I remember wanting to be treated like a person at her age instead of everyone demanding I grow up while not giving me the agency to make my own decisions. I talk to her as a person, not a child. Some things I keep to myself because they’re need-to-know, but I don’t shelter her from the realities of life and how much being an adult can truly suck. My parents didn’t do this, and I grew up thinking adulthood was a magical fairyland of freedom and money.
Being shoved out of the nest at 18 was a rude awakening. We share a lot of interests, like music. I introduced her to the Dresden Dolls when she was five, and she got me into Panic! at the Disco and Fall Out Boy a couple years ago, plus expensive makeup.
She and her friends think I’m cool or whatever, but I don’t care. I’m not trying to be anyone’s friend. I don’t want that. I can still be a hard-ass mom.
I just want to share what I’ve learned since I was her age without a lot of cryptic “you’ll understand when you’re older” crap. There’s some of that, but I’ve found it’s far less than my parents led me to believe. My mom had me when she was 18. I don’t think she ever actually grew up.
As a kid, I was passed around between family members but never lived with my mom. Now I’m 18, and she’s pretty cool, but I honestly don’t think she’s a good mom. I feel horrible saying that. I love her to death, but still.
It’s surreal. I had my son when I was 16, and he’s now 18. He turned last month. He’s a good kid, and he’s off to college for engineering, is in the robotics club, speaks three languages, and plays violin and bass.
His mother and I got married and had a daughter who’s 10. She’s more the creative type. All in all, while there are things my wife and I miss that we can’t get back, I wouldn’t change it for the world. They’re here, and they’re pretty terrific.
We got extremely lucky, though. I wouldn’t recommend being a teen parent as a life choice. The struggle was real, and there were a lot of near breakups between us. But if you get through that, you can have something truly great on the other side.
Normal, I guess. I was able to claim independence on my FAFSA and get a zero expected family contribution, so I got a lot of financial aid for college, which was nice. I’ll be 36 when my daughter turns 18. Most people my age, 30, are just having toddlers.
I have a four-year-old and I’m done making tiny humans. I’ll be young when my kids become adults. I can’t really compare it to anything because being a parent with responsibilities has always been my adult life. I’m excited to get to a place where I don’t need to care for the physical needs of minors.
I’m 35. My daughter just turned 20 this week. I have an 11-month-old grandson. I’m 35.
My wife and I met in high school at 14, and then, wouldn’t you know it, she got pregnant. Raising a child as a teenager is easy. It’s raising an adult when you’re a teen parent that’s difficult. My wife and I are together 21 years later, and we have a great family.
I didn’t graduate high school, but I’m very successful. We’re not perfect, but we did a good job with our daughter. She’s happy. My son-in-law is great, and I’m proud of her.
We also have two sons, 4 and 12. It was like having three only children to some extent, and I love the time we got with each of them individually. I’m not sure what you’re looking for exactly. It all feels very normal to me.
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