Ruminations on tweens. Or tweening. AGAIN.

Catch Me Mom!

Tweening: the act of becoming a tween, traversing the space between little girl and teenager. It is a very murky place, rife with the tween fighting to grow up and the parent wishing they wouldn’t. I WISH SHE WOULDN’T. It's being there to understand your little girl when all of a sudden she is speaking a new language, albeit one of pouting, irritability, and annoyance. With me, with dad, with her brother. WITH EVERYTHING. But you still have to be there. You still have to look into her eyes and say: I've got you.

Mom. Mom. Mom!

As a little girl she was so sweet - she is still sweet. Then she hoods her eyes and starts glaring at me. And I hardly recognize her.

Anyway, it’s awful. I don’t know who has it worse, me or her.

Right now it feels like me. Uh oh, nope, it’s her, poor thing. (because in the last few minutes acne has made another appearance)

It’s knees and elbows, literally, like they said it was. Ow, that hurt!

It is: brush your hair please, oh, um, when did you last brush your teeth...that shirt is dirty you need to change.

It is brushed! It looks AMAZING!

She turns around and I am certain I see a bird fly out of it. Brushed them last night.

Hmmm, really?

This shirt is fine. Emphatically: My friends won’t care, THEY LIKE ME FOR WHO I AM.

Oh brother. The hair - well peer opinion/pressure should eventually take care of that, right? The teeth? This has always been a battle. And the clothes? Changed.

Sound familiar? Well if it is, it is because we are ON LOOP. Same conversation repeated regularly. Ad nauseam.

Time for someone to modify their behavior, and fast. Turns out it’s me. UGH.

I have identified these as my top need to work on issues.

ISSUE: LOUD VERY LOUD CHEWING

Maybe it is just me but my daughter, this sweet little thing is the loudest grossest consumer of food and drink that I have ever met. I don’t get it. See my previous blog where I wonder if she is just playing me, that is how bad this is.

SOLUTION: DON’T SAY A THING. JUST WALK AWAY.

ISSUE: WILL NOT REMEMBER TO TAKE DAILY MEDICINE. TWICE.

Can’t remember. Won’t remember. Whichever.

SOLUTION: ALWAYS REMIND HER. FIND A WAY TO ALWAYS REMIND HER BEFORE ALL SYSTEMS COME TO A HALT. DOESN’T MATTER THAT YOU CAN’T REMEMBER YOUR OWN ALLERGY MEDICINE. REMEMBER HERS!

ISSUE: BEDROOM MAY BE CONDEMNED BY THE HEALTH DEPARTMENT

I would not be surprised to see the producers of A&E’s show Hoarders filming an episode inside of her room. Thankfully the hoarding is limited mostly to her drawings of cats, miniaturized examples of well, everything, Warrior Cat books & manga, and multiple cat posters. Note: we do NOT own a cat, as we are all mostly allergic. We do have a dog. I am not sure she notices, though.  

SOLUTION: YOU CLEAN HER ROOM TO AVOID POSSIBLE CROSS CONTAMINATION WITH THE REST OF THE HOUSE.

ISSUE: HAIR

Actual text: “Mom, I’m getting older, and I was thinking about changing my appearance a little bit. So I was wondering if maybe this weekend or around that time you could take me to the hair salon and I could get some blonde highlights in my hair?

I know that it seems like a crazy request, but I’m starting to care about my appearance more, so I was thinking I needed a little change.”

Hahahahah. What?! Face palm.

SOLUTION: ASK SOMEONE FOR HELP. YOU ARE NOW VERY CONFUSED AND THIS IS ABOVE YOUR PAY GRADE

ISSUE: THE THREAT OF MENSTRUATION

Paraphrase: Mom, the book you got me about periods, remember? Yes, yes I do. Well, it suggests that I honor getting my first period with a period party. A what? A period party. I invite my friends and we have a sleepover to celebrate this important event in my young life.
She really said that!

SOLUTION: FETAL POSITION, MAYBE SOME HYSTERICAL LAUGHING.

I am certain sometimes that I must be ruining this kid, with my expectations, my imploring looks, and how sometimes when she asks me something that is so utterly basic I just stop what I am doing and stare in another direction, allowing her to realize I am really really close to losing my mind. Or like the time when I told her if she didn't practice her violin I will put her up for adoption. (Looking back, although slightly funny, was probably NOT the best thing to say and really just my frustration talking. Don't worry - we went over this in counseling.) I know I forgot to say how awesome she is - but if you have read any of my other blogs you will already know - she is the bomb.  

This face. I mean come on. 

And then this happens:

Mom, I love you soooooo much!

I love you too babe.

You are the best mom in the world.

Um, unlikely. But I try my best.

I know.

Being a mom to a tween challenges me to be a better person. Or, wait, what?

Tween. noun.  A youngster between 10 and 12 years of age, considered too old to be a child and too young to be a teenager.

Tell me about it. 

The dichotomy of a tween is the height of unfairness for parents. Managing the expectations, YOUR expectations of what you think your tween should do or how they should act or look or talk or smell or anything - well it is a tremendous challenge. Let's face it, the tween stage is something akin to aliens replacing your child with a freshly cloned facsimile who is trying to learn what it is like to be a human being with zero experience and ultimately, limited success. Emotional, highly sensitive, easily irritated, full of attitude and prone to tear-filled outbursts... sounds eerily similar to my previous posts about toddlers. I mean you got through that phase only to be lulled into a false sense of NORMALCY, and now it is clear that Pixar's Inside Out movie is really your life. Your daughter is growing up and has all of these emotions and she is not a little girl anymore and seriously, wtf is happening? And now she is crying. Why is she crying?!

I have a tween.

She is sitting next to me at the table right now, chewing VERY LOUDLY with her mouth open. Despite my many protestations asking her, guiding her, willing her to close her mouth while she chews. Sigh. She is clueless to the fact that she is doing it.

At least I think she is.
Maybe she is just messing with me. I mean that bodes some investigation. If you have
a. been told
b. been shown - I mean I demo this
c. been instructed
I don’t know, umpteen times...and you still are not doing it...then...do you not care? Do you not think about it? Or, help?

Sometimes I look back at the blogs about her when she was five. She is so much the same. So challenging. But harder now. Because now she is challenge laced with sass, and with a little bit of I know better - but only a little bit.

I wonder if other moms are going through what I am. I mean I am sure that they are faced with the mood swings, the cheek, the normal-ness of having a tween. I wonder if they feel it as sorely as I seem to. This bundle of raw emotions that I am regularly faced with - that the whole family is faced with - does it take up so much space for them, too?

My daughter has many special gifts, she is very silly - a wonderful quality in my eyes, and she is brilliant, she is kind - especially to animals, not so much to younger brothers, and she is a talented violinist. She is also hard.

K thanks.
She just texted me that. We text now. I mean why wouldn't we, she is just UPSTAIRS.

She is suspended between child and teenager. One minute I can see the young woman she is becoming...the next minute a little girl. Whip smart, sassy and starting to get boobs. Yet prefers shirts with cats on them and books about cats. Weeeee, loves cats! Even meows to me on occasion instead of using words. Can’t be bothered to brush her hair - or even to make sure that her socks are not sitting on top of her leggings. Or that only one is. Please brush your teeth. JUST PLEASE BRUSH YOUR HAIR. And yet, has shown an interest in boys.

Actual conversation:
When did you take your last shower?
Just did.
Well your hair doesn't smell like you did.
Oh, I didn't wash it.
Why not?
The potential for water getting in my eyes is too great.
So you last actually washed your hair WHEN?
Let me think...

Cut to me:

But of course I can't say that. BUT I WAS REALLY THINKING IT. Do other moms think that, too? They must. Someone please tell me they do, because one minute everything is great and the next minute I don't know what happened and she is in a fury-flare. And I should do what? 

I find myself sighing A LOT. Oh, and wishing I had the unlimited patience of my mother to see us through this madness. 

Meow?