Teenagers vs. Menopausal Moms: A Battle No One

Published November 14, 2025

There are wars. There are battles. And then there’s the daily, full-contact emotional cage match happening inside Canadian households everywhere: Teenagers vs. Menopausal Moms.

If you’ve ever found yourself sobbing because you can’t find your reading glasses while your teen angrily cries because their hoodie “feels weird today,” congratulations — you are living in the trenches.

Let’s compare these two majestic natural disasters:

Someone is crying every day… and sometimes it’s both of you at the same time.
Your house has two thermostats:
- One for your teen (“It’s too cold!")
- One for you (“Why does this house feel like the surface of the sun?”)

You’re wide awake at 3 a.m. eating crackers in the dark… and your teen strolls into the kitchen like, “Oh, hey.”
There’s a mysterious smell in your teen’s room AND in your hormone drawer — and no one wants to investigate either.
You’re both yelling “I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR!” while staring at full closets.
They slam their door dramatically. You close your door dramatically, but with joint pain.
Both of you have snacks hidden from the rest of the family.
(Yours: chocolate. Theirs: everything else in the house.)
A single comment like “Are you okay?” can set off a 20-minute monologue from either one of you.
You both prefer to communicate through short, annoyed noises instead of actual words.
You’re always too hot. They’re always too cold. Together, you create the humidity of a tropical rainforest.
Your teen takes two-hour showers. You take five showers a day because you’re overheating.
Neither one of you can remember why you walked into the room.
Someone always needs a ride…and someone’s always too tired to give one.
The Wi-Fi goes down for 30 seconds, and both of you spiral emotionally for different reasons.
Your teen rolls their eyes at everything. You roll your ankles because menopause stole your balance.
You burst into tears at commercials. They burst into tears when you ask what they want for dinner.
At least once a week, one of you whispers, “I can’t live like this,” and it’s unclear who said it first.
Both of you think the other person is being dramatic… and both of you are correct.
You’re Googling “perimenopause symptoms.” They’re Googling “Is my mom okay?”
Your partner quietly leaves the room when you two start arguing because he knows better.