I am a woman. I live with two other smallish women-in-the-making. It is from this perspective that I write. You he-men, macho types reading who wish to avoid any hint of feminine understanding may want to run away now. Or, if you’ve got the moxie, read on and I’ll throw you a bone every once in a while.
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Yes, today’s blog is about that
Now, because I love my girls so, and because I still want them to claim me in my twilight years, I would never deign to embarrass them. So instead, I’ll be discussing the daughters of a friend. Lets call them, um, Jill and Jane.
Jill and Jane have been going through quite a few changes lately and they haven’t been altogether thrilled.
Deodorant is no longer an option. At all. I know girls in the south are supposed to ‘glisten’ or ‘glow’ but these girls SWEAT! They aren’t happy about the new-found aroma, or the fact that they shower and wash their hair every morning, and it’s oily again by dinner.
New hair growing everywhere. Legs like Brillo pads, but mom won’t let them shave. Not fun.
Men: How 'bout those Vikings? Brett Vavre's back you know!
Some days Jill and Jane are ravenous. Others they’re like Gandhi on a mission. They gain a little weight here and there, but it’s starting to settle differently. Their tastes are also evolving. “Mom, this meatloaf is great!” (One week later. . .) “You know I hate meatloaf!!”
Enter the training bra. Jane couldn’t wait to get one. Jill would rather eat dirt. “Why are you so upset about this? You’ve never worn one. It might be comfortable.” (Yes, I lied. Don’t judge me.)
She said, “Once I start wearing one, I can never go back.” Well, she had me there.
Men: Did you see the hit Eli Manning took last week? What a crusher!
That thing at the end of a Declarative sentence.
Not even going to go there.
What really keeps you on your toes, or so my friend says, is waking the girls in the morning to see which personality will be gracing you with it’s presence. Apparently this can range from Mother Teresa to Attila the Hun . It also has the ability to change, without notice or provocation, quicker than a New York minute.
~ Mom, do you need any help? (Sweet)
* Sure. Can you put away the shoes in the living room?
~ Hey! These are mine! Jane, you didn’t even ask! You just took them! (Furious)
* No fighting! Just put them away.
~ She never asks for anything! She always takes my stuff! You always take her side! (Sobbing)
Three total swings of the emotional pendulum.
Total elapsed time: 12 seconds.
I honestly don't know which is worse - going through puberty yourself, or watching your kids go through it. Um, er, I mean my friends kids!
Men: Gym socks and monster trucks and power tools, Oh my!
It's a scary time for all concerned. My little girls aren't so little anymore. I have to start letting go a bit. I still want to be 'Super-mom' and keep all the pain and evils of the world away from them. I resent the fact that the older they get, the less innocent they are allowed to be. It's not just the body that changes, it's the perception of the world around them. When children's eyes are opened to certain facts of life, they can never be closed again. Frankly, this terrifies me and tests my faith more than anything else imaginable.
How do you prepare them for the world, while still trying to protect them from it? How can they defend against things to which they've never been exposed? How much should we expose them? Just in the last year we've had to discuss virginity, rape, sexual predators, child abuse, homosexuality, alcohol and drug addiction, and prostitution. There's also abortion, racism, war. . .God help us.
It all comes down to faith.
I have faith that God loves my girls even more than I do.
I have faith that God has a plan for their lives.
I have faith that God will help Joey and I raise them with the proper morals and values.
I have faith that when the time is right, God will help me let go.
Nothing to do now but smile and accept that my girls are going
|Mom, can I get just one more?|