When your teen always has the last word

Let me tell you about a mom named Laura.

She has two boys, and like a lot of moms I talk to, she kept describing her younger one as “a good kid… but oh my gosh, he argues about everything.”

And she meant everything.

Walking the dog.
Doing the dishes.
Turning off the video game.
Reminding him to get off his phone.

Even the smallest requests came with a comment, a sigh, a “Hang on,” a “I said I will,” or the one that stung the most:

“Quit your yapping.”

She hated how she’d say something she didn’t love… and in the moment, part of her felt justified because at least it finally got him moving.

But afterward?
The guilt hit hard.

And here’s something important.
Laura had tried everything.

She’d tried asking nicely.
She’d tried being firmer.
She’d tried ignoring the attitude, hoping it would pass.
She’d tried the “this is your one reminder” approach.

Nothing worked.

That’s when it hit her.
Maybe this wasn’t about finding the perfect consequence.
Maybe she needed to show up differently, because what she was doing just wasn’t getting her anywhere.

And underneath all of it was this quiet truth she told me:

She didn’t want to yell anymore.
She didn’t want every simple request to turn into an argument.
She didn’t want to keep feeling walked on in her own home.

She just wanted her sweet kid back, the one she knew was hiding underneath all that attitude.

One night, she walked into his room to remind him (again) to get off his phone. A tiny, ordinary moment. The kind every mom handles ten times a day.

And before she even opened her mouth, she felt it.

The tightness in her chest.
The edge in her voice.
That familiar dread of, “Please don’t let this turn into a thing.”

He gave her the tone.
The eye flick.
The disrespectful “I said I will.”

Her patience started to slip.
Her annoyance bubbled up before she could stop it.

She could feel the whole thing snowballing fast.
The dynamic she kept swearing she didn’t want anymore.

But this time… she didn’t jump in.

She paused.
Just for a second.
She let her shoulders drop.
She looked at him… really looked.
And in a softer voice than she actually felt, she said:

“I’m not here to fight with you.”

Nothing poetic.
Nothing perfect.
Just one small moment of choosing differently.

And this is what we worked on in those first few weeks.
Catching herself in that split second between being annoyed and saying something she’d regret.

Not pretending she wasn’t irritated.
Just noticing it early enough to shift.

We also talked through her biggest fear.
“If I’m not strict, won’t he just walk all over me?”

Turns out, the opposite was true.
The calmer she got, the more he actually listened.

And before you think, “Yeah, but our situation is different…” this wasn’t happening in a perfect home.
Her son has ADHD.
Her ex wasn’t always on the same page.
Life was messy.

And it still worked.

Don’t get me wrong. There were still hard days.

Around week three, he tested her. He pushed back a little harder, almost like he was checking to see if she’d snap the way she used to.

She called me and said, “Maybe this isn’t working. Maybe he’s just getting worse.”

But here’s what most parents don’t realize. Teens test the new dynamic to see if it’s real. To see if you’ll go back to the old pattern.

She stayed steady.
And that’s when he finally started to trust that this calmer version of her wasn’t going anywhere.

Not overnight.
Not magically.
But slowly… predictably… things softened.

Her voice stayed steadier.
His reactions weren’t so sharp.
They had fewer blowups over nothing.
And she wasn’t spending her nights replaying arguments in her head.

And then came the night that changed everything.

Driving home from practice, he said,
“I’m sorry I’ve been kind of a jerk lately.”

She had to blink fast so she didn’t start crying right there at the stoplight.

Another night, he came and sat on the counter while she made dinner. Uninvited. And talked about a group chat situation. She didn’t jump in with advice. She just listened.

He stayed in the kitchen for almost twenty minutes.

Those little moments?
They were everything.

A few weeks ago, she told me something that stuck with me.
She said:

“I wish I hadn’t waited so long. I spent months dreading every tiny interaction. I didn’t realize how much it was wearing on me until things finally started to change.”

And no… things in their home aren’t perfect now.
No home with teenagers ever is.

But there’s less edge in his tone now.
Fewer arguments over the small stuff.
And she isn’t constantly bracing for a blowup.

More lingering.
More warmth.

More of those small, ordinary moments where your kid stays in the room a little longer… and that’s how you know something real is shifting.

If you're reading this and thinking, “This is us,” it doesn’t have to keep going like this.

Parents who come to me aren’t doing anything you couldn’t do.
They’re just tired of trying to figure it out by themselves.

If you want things to feel lighter at home, and you want a different kind of relationship with your teen, you can grab a call here:
👉 Book a Parenting Breakthrough Call

And truly… if this story sounds like your home, it could just as easily be your story six months from now.

🧡 Jeanine