You Know You Have Teenagers Of The Male Persuasion When:

Published on Friday, January 8, 2010 by Katherine

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You never have to change the sheets because your teenagers sleep on the couches.
There is drool on your couch and the arm rest smells like dirty hair.
Briefs are out and boxers are in.
Every month you find cut hair in the sink and on the floor. Nobody looks like they have had a haircut.
You see their eyes shift towards you as they quickly type a text message and flip the phone shut.
You haven’t bought a winter jacket for your child in years. The only thing in between your child and the bitter cold is a hoodie.
You find yourself almost instinctively saying, “That’s what she said!” in public or at work.
Your son hangs on you until it almost hurts, and often gets in your “space.” But you don’t want to push him away because you know this won’t last much longer!
You tell them something important. No response, glazed eyes. You tell them the same important thing again. No response, glazed eyes. You get in front of them and repeat AGAIN that very important thing. “Gosh Mom I HEARD you – you don’t have to tell me a million times!!!”
Can’t ANYBODY flush the TOILET around here!!!??
Your child has NO PROBLEM mentioning you have “old lady hands” or crater-like lines around your face. “No offense, Mom.”
Every time you hear about a car accident, you feel a knot in your stomach as you gaze at the child who will soon be driving.
Xbox 360’s equate to all nighters during vacations.
Morning showers take twenty minutes. Nineteen of those minutes involve them sitting in the tub half asleep while the water shoots over them. I assume the last minute might have something to do with shampoo and soap?
You don’t get to talk to your teen on the way to school anymore because he has his eyes closed and the ipod on.
Your teen looks at you like a deer in the headlights if you suggest they CALL somebody with a question.
You don’t even think twice when you find a month old chicken wing in a dresser drawer.
You walk in to the bathroom and find a perfectly shaped pair of pants and boxers on the floor, body outline completely intact as if your child shot out of them like a canon.
You find a pile of crumpled shirts tucked in a corner, and as you go for them your son blurts out, “NO MOM!! I’ll get them!!” <shudder>
Farting. It’s a way of life. Unless you are a Mom. Then you are labeled disgusting.