Love Bites
I sniff my teens. Seriously, when they come home at curfew I take comfort in the 'All Free and Clear' mixed with 'Degree Men's Sport' armpit, which is where my head lands these days. I admit, I also like to see the whites of their eyes. These are the only clues I have when my greetings are inevitably met with hasty grunts and shuttered doors. Rest assured, if they want to drive the car, they must check-in for a clandestine sniffing at curfew. Love bites, as a mom to four teens, and that is where my secret interrogation begins... Peri-menopause exhaustion turns into a caffeine-like buzz at bedtime when my teens are out, despite whatever melatonin induced coma I've attempted. My husband snoring beside me, the warmth of the bedsheets is little comfort to a mama bear awaiting her cubs. The beep of the car door lock outside alerts me it's 11pm on the dot. Not even the two sleeping Schnoodles hear the footsteps up the stairs as my son approaches our bedroom. I sen