This Child

This child of mine tests me.

Celebrating her birthday last month.

She may look sweet and adorable, and she is for the most part. But she is what you'd consider a pre-teen.

She's 9 going on 13, and there are days when I don't know how I'm going to survive the real teenage years. For awhile now, I've told her that when she officially becomes a teenager, I am moving away. She thinks I'm kidding. There are some days that I'm not.

See, I remember what it was like to be a teenage girl. I was full of attitude. I rolled my eyes at parents and at high school coaches (and got in busted by all parties involved). I sprouted off sass so much that my mom washed my mouth out with liquid soap. I talked back to my dad and he lifted me up by the scruff of my shirt and held me up against the wall.

And if turnabout isn't fair play, she's dishing the attitude right back to me. *sigh*

And the poor husband doesn't know what it's like to be around teenaged girls all the time. He doesn't know what he's in for. Just wait for the slammed doors. We've gotten a taste with the whole "life isn't fair" mantra, but this is just the tip of the iceberg. 

On the first day of winter break, this darling child of mine was ushered up to her room for giving us too much attitude. And when we went up there to talk with her, she sassed back, earning her a few more minutes up in her room. And she screamed. And cried. Good times, indeed.

She calmed down, and then all I heard was that I never want to be with her and that I always want to play with Jeremy. Ah, the guilt trip. And I fall for it. Because I felt that way about my mom and my brother, that she favored him (no offense, but she did do his laundry well into his post-college years. Meanwhile I had to pay rent during the summers I was home from college!) I digress. But I believe she knows exactly what she's doing. It doesn't mean it doesn't break my heart. And then she halfheartedly apologized by sighing and saying "Sor-ry."

I know these years will be trying. She's trying to figure out her place in the world. And it doesn't help that she's at a school with kids up through 5th grade. And it doesn't help that she is growing up, whether I like it or not. It happens.

But I will always love her, even as she struggles to find the fine line between independence, asserting herself and following our rules.

I love you, little girl. Don't ever forget that.