My Teenage Daughter

                
My oldest daughter turned 13 on Wednesday. I have a teenager. She sure does act like one already, so my life is not jarred by this transition.

The night before her birthday, I went out to dinner with my husband and some friends. Afterwards, I picked her up from band practice. "Did you bring me home leftovers?" she asked. "No, but you can fix yourself something when we got home." She was hangry and was being a huge beeotch about it. "Mom! That's not fair, I only had a bowl of soup and I didn't get to finish it because you rushed me!"

Keep in mind, she knew ALL day that we had to leave at 5:40 but she decided to come downstairs to eat dinner at 5:34 because she was busy doing her hair. Not my fault.

She just kept running her mouth. Finally, I'd had enough. "I just want to remind you that 13 years ago, I pushed you out of my actual vagina so I'm going to need you to show me a little more respect."

She laughed, "You are grossest person in the world." Truth.

Thirteen years ago, she was born. I can see it so vividly in my minds eye- watching her head come out of my body, her bird-like cry, the way she curled up on my chest and fell asleep - night after night as she transitioned into the world. I remember the years in between then and now. Curled up with her on the couch watching Strawberry Shortcake, her tiny hands on my face, the pitter patter of little feet through the house.

But now, she stands before me, in a woman's body and stares me straight in the eyes and I find it hard to believe that she was ever a baby, that her heart beat inside of me. It seems like a lifetime ago now.

The past few years have certainly been challenging, as we have navigated this strange world of puberty and middle school and life.

Even though she was being grumpy the day before her birthday, she is mostly agreeable. I would say that we have a close relationship. We are very open with each other and while she doesn't tell me everything, she tells me a lot of things.
                   
I always offer my grown-up perspective on things which sometimes she appreciates and sometimes she hates. It depends on her mood. "OMG, mom! I don't need your lectures." I am quick to remind her, "I'm your mother, not your friend." (That's a whole other blog, for another time)

She loves doing hair and make-up. She can french braid her hair with no mirror - which I am amazed by because I can't even brush my hair good in front of a mirror. She is a little amateur make-up artist. She'll spend 20 minutes doing her eyeliner. We call her our Egyptian princess. Whenever she gets money she begs me to take her to Sephora. I don't know about that life. I wear lip gloss from the grocery store.

When she isn't sitting in front of a mirror, she is playing music. She is always learning some song on the flute. She loves to entertain us. She's been practicing her state solo, which is a beautiful piece. I'll be in the kitchen or doing laundry and she will run in with her flute and make me stop what I'm doing to listen. She plays the keyboard. She taught herself Moonlight Sonata and Swan Lake. We got her a violin for her birthday and by the next day she had learned Twinkle Twinkle little star. That is how she sends MOST of her time - playing music and listening to music.

She has a very eclectic taste in music. She LOVES classical music - Mozart, Beethoven, concert band pieces, soundtracks (The Kiss from the Last of the Mohicans is her favorite). She loves Lana Del Rey and BORNS. Sometimes it's Nirvana and Pink Floyd and sometimes it's shitty pop and hip-hop music. Her taste in music is the reflection of who she is as a person - so many different layers.

She is very outgoing and very confident (sometimes too confident and I'm like, let's take it down a few notches) and other times she is quiet and reserved. She is VERY sensitive and will shut down completely if you hurt her feelings. If you yell at her or when you call her on her shit, she can't even handle it. That worries me a little bit, she is going to need a thicker skin to make it through this life.

She is a little boy crazy, which I think will be our biggest challenge in the coming years. The boys....they started showing up at my house in 6th grade. They stand on my front porch, shifting nervously. "Is your daughter here, Miss B?"

                              
                Lord help me. I'm getting it back 3 times, for sure. The boys will be the death of us.

I have a teenage daughter now and while a piece of me mourns (you know that silent mourning, I often refer to), I remind myself that this is what we've prepared for. Older, more seasoned parents often tell young parents, "Oh! Just wait until the teenage years."

But the teenage years seem so abstract and so distant when you are a chasing toddlers and enduring sleepless nights. They might even seem glamorous - surely my life looks easy to a parents of young children. In a lot of ways it is. I don't change diapers, my daughter can do her own laundry and make meals. That part is easier. The part that is hard as your children grow- is that they have their own lives outside of you. They deal with problems that you can't fix. You will watch them struggle and deal with heartbreak and disappointment. It will push you to the brink emotionally, it will keep you up at night, it will make your blood run cold....and I'm just at the beginning of this coming-of-age time.

This time is a rite of passage, for her but also for us as parents. It's as eternal as time itself and at the end of it, if I do my job well, she will be separate from me. She will go forward, into the world, and build her own life. And one day, when she has children of her own, she will understand my love and sacrifice and she will realize that her heart never really stopped beating inside of me.