My oldest daughter will be nine-years-old next month. Nine. Wow. Where did the time go?
She’s a sweet kid with a very kind heart, always creating something, dancing or singing. She has an array of costumes that she likes to put on and is a born actress. She’s always been independent and I like that because it will serve her well in life; though I wish she wouldn’t exercise it against me.
There’s a new aspect leaking into her nice disposition, darkening things a little. She has started foot stamping with fists clenched at her sides as she growls at me before stomping upstairs and slamming the door. And the mouth. She back talks me like she never has before. It’s not necessarily what she says, but how she says it (wait, I hear my mother’s voice saying the same thing about me so long ago). I have put limits on The Family Channel because when she watches too many of those shows with the perky, smart mouth children she starts acting like them.
I’m not ready to give up my little girl to the pre-teen years, forget about the teen years; I’m in total denial about those.
I’m not ready to deal with the drama. She’s always been dramatic, but most of it has been cute until more recently. So many things are now the end of the world and the drama between her friends is never ending. I remember what it was like, maybe that’s why I’m so terrified. I survived it once and never want to go back.
She has started busting out, “I hate my life.” Oh boy, if you only knew how bad some children have it. She has told me I’m a mean mom. When this happens, I fix her with the “you want to challenge me?” glare and say, “You think I’m mean? You haven’t seen anything yet. Keep pushing and I’ll show you mean.” That tends to quiet her down. I am very thankful I haven’t heard, “I hate you.” At least not yet.
I know she’s trying to assert herself as an individual and I’m all for self-exploration and being who you are. I let her wear what she wants, providing it’s age and weather appropriate, and encourage her to explore different activities. She accused me of not letting her be herself, which almost made me fall over. Her reason was that I didn’t let her talk the way she wanted. I had to explain that it’s fine to talk however she wants as long as it’s not rude or disrespectful.
When I talk to my mother about these emerging pre-teen qualities, she laughs, quite hard actually, and tells me it’s my karma. I remember being a crazed teenage bitch, screaming that life wasn’t fair. I had hoped my daughter would miraculously avoid it, or at least go through a severely toned down version. I cringe when I think of what is to come and wonder how I will make it through.
I've always said the older she gets, the more fun she is. As she grows, we are able to do more things together and that will continue. There are movies I look forward to watching with her, books I want to share, and places I long to take her. Hopefully, we can find some peace through sharing.
