Wife or Mother?

I woke up to a sad realization this morning. The past four years of my relationship has been practice for having a teenager. As I was visiting my MIL I heard several phrases that she used to speak to my 15-year-old brother-in-law. "Pick up your clothes", "Do your chores", "Close the door all the way", "Where are you going?", and "When are you going to be home?". Sadly these are all phrases in which I use on a daily basis with my husband. The realization came to me as he was getting ready for work. He told me he had ten minutes before he had to leave. I was nursing the baby and I asked him if he could get me a glass of juice. He then spent the next three minutes arguing with me about how he had so much he had to do and he didn't have time. Then he spent two minutes getting his stuff together. Then left five minutes early. At this point I'm thinking in my head that if he would have just shut up and got me the damn juice, he would have been done in less time than it took to argue with me. Then my brain went "oh no, I'm not his wife, I'm his mother".
This is the point in which I began to think about what a wife really is. Here is what I've come up with:

Loving someone unconditionally, even when they are being a complete idiot and you'd rather just smack them on the forehead.

Constantly cooking and cleaning up after someone else.

Calling and embarrassing them in front of their friends because they forgot to call, again, and you were worried.

Telling someone to do something for the five hundredth time, knowing you're just going to have to tell them again in five minutes.

Spending time figuring out how to phase things in order to avoid a tantrum.

Finding things that were in the same spot that they left them when they took them off and threw them in the middle of the floor, again.

And my favorite:
Hearing them use the phase "I'll be out in minute, I have to do my chores real quick."

Yep, it's official, I'm his mother. I've decided that the only real difference is that as a reward for doing all this, I get to have sex with him whenever he wants. Not, of course, when I want. Well hopefully I'll be better at raising teenagers once Joli gets old enough.
At least I don't look old enough to be his mother. I hope.