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.