Trying to raise a teenager is like trying to nail Jello to a tree. It just seems to slip through your fingers every stinkin' time you try to drive in the hammer. I found out today, that maybe driving the hammer is not the best way to get the job done. At this writing, my 13 year old is still holed up at a friend's house--not wanting to face the conflict, and I let her go. I spend my whole life trying to not let her out of my sight, keep her safe and raise her well. I sent her out the door with a "see ya." Unheard of for me. "I love you" has always been the final word. I struggled with that. She arrived home, contrite and calm. I was the same. Turns out she was right--leaving was the right choice, even for a brief period of time. A time to sort it all out. Now we are headed to the family room to watch the results of American Idol. Did something just happen here or was it all just dream?