For what it's worth you will find your kids will probably turn into wonderful older teenagers. I remember the horror that I was at that age. My 'favourite' way to punish my parents was door banging. If I stormed upstairs (which happened regularly - I had two younger siblings and was convinced mum and dad always stuck up for them) I'd bang my bedroom door. If it didn't get a reaction I'd bang it again, then the wardrobe door and so it would go on. Mum or dad would come upstairs and just say 'banging the door isn't helping, when you're ready to talk call downstairs and we'll come up' then turn around and go back downstairs completely ignoring my tantrum. Within 5 minutes I'd be downstairs very sheepish, offering to make a cuppa. Mum loves to tell that story (over and over again - even with dementia she remembers that! )
I'd leave my PE kit festering in the gym bag. Mum would ask for it after school on PE and, if it wasn't given over then it wouldn't get washed. She worked full time and had two younger kids to look after so that was that. After one PE lesson with mud splattered shorts which mortified me I used to unpack as soon as mum asked. My sisters learned the rules as they grew up - I think we all had at least one PE lesson or school day in clothes that hadn't met the washing machine and that was it. After that the laundry was in the basket at the end of each day.
I was also the most untidy person I know. Mum and dad had a rule of tidying the bedrooms every Saturday and, of course, at a certain age I'd sneaked off to our local market (favourite place to go at that time). I got a telling off, banned from going into town the following Saturday. Then, the next day, my very tidy friend came round. Instead of giving me warning so I could stuff things in wardrobes, my mum sent her up...her look of utter amazement at the state of the room did more than mum and dad's nagging ever did.
I guess, reading this back, mum and dad were very big on us learning WHY we were expected to do things and very small on the constant nagging.
Our DS is now coming up to 12 years old and the cheek has started. DH gets into verbal 'fights' - I try not to. My way is very much my parents way. 'When you speak to me in a proper voice instead of shouting I'm ready to listen', 'Can you come up here and pick the towels off the bathroom floor or you'll be drying yourself on skanky one's this evening' (then ignoring the protestation). Apparently DH reckons I'm good at getting DS to do as he's told. I don't know about that - I just refuse to converse with someone shouting at me. I don't ignore him but I try not to shout back, in fact I tend to drop my voice so he has to shut up to hear me. It's working at the moment but we're not into full battle zone yet! I'll be eating my words soon I bet.
Oh and I'm now in my fifties. I'd visit my mum and dad every week when I moved out at 21 years old, paid for them to go on holiday with my first pay packet at 17 years old, would give both of them a hug as soon as I came home from school when I was in my late teens. So they must have done something right. I'm still messy though!