Tween girls. Well, someone should write a book about this shit. I am sure they have, but unfortunately I am too busy dealing with attitudes and hormones to have time to read the darn thing. My soon to be 10 year old daughter, though beautiful and loving, has slowly started to become what other people have warned me about, but I never believed possible, a pre-teen or tween as they call them now.

Tween, the term used for girls between the ages of 10-12, the preadolescent stage. Tween: termed for that “in between” stage. Tween: too old for toys, too young for boys. More like,  “I like some dude and have lots of attitude.” Tween, the precursor for the dreadful teen years, when boys replace toys and friends are much more important than mom or dad and of course, we could never understand.  Tween: what is staring me right in face

Yesterday my little girl was in pigtails, happily holding my hand when we walked anywhere, everywhere. She still loves to hold my hand, only now, it’s dependent on who is around. I still catch glimpses of that little girl every now and then. I mean, she is only nine after all. She still is my little girl. My little girl in size 7 shoes.

So exactly how do we handle these “tween” years? How do we keep our sweet little girls, sweet, as long as we possibly can? Lock her in a closet? Not legal. Force her to wear dresses with pink polka dots to school every day with a Hello Kitty book bag and matching lunch box? Too far and even I couldn’t stomach that much pink. What to do, what to do?

Well, here’s my plan. I will give her as much love as I can so that she knows that no matter what happens, she can always count on me to be there. I will give her as much guidance as I can so that she knows right from wrong and can make informed choices, but also know that even when she makes the wrong one, I am still there to help pick up the pieces. I will give her the discipline she needs because I am, in fact, her mother first and without discipline, she will never understand consequences for her actions.  I will give her as much freedom to explore as you can possibly, safely, give a tween girl these days so that she can find out who she is and what her boundaries are going to be in this life. I will teach her to have a vision, her own vision, so that she has something to strive for in her life. Finally, I will remind her that no matter what she does in this life, do it with a purpose and with passion so that she will always feels full.

My little “soon-to-be” tween, oh how I love her and want to tape her mouth shut at the same time. But, like all other phases that we have survived, we will survive this one, too. She will test her boundaries (and my patience) and I will love her even when it is hard to like her. She will make me question my parenting skills and bring me to my knees, but in the end, I will always win because that is the best part about being the mom. Ok, so maybe not the best part, but it is pretty dang cool.  I win. The end.

Take your crazy somewhere else. We are all stocked up here....

I sometimes feel like I am on the verge of a mental breakdown. Not the well planned and perfectly played ones that the movie stars like to have when their careers are in the shitters. But rather a full-on, bat shit crazy, running down the street naked in bright red lipstick and black eyeliner, meltdown. And trust me, that is something none of my neighbors would be happy to see, but I am quite sure one of them would film it and put it on youtube. 

It’s all the noise. It’s bad enough I have so many voices in my head, but now that both of my kids know how to talk, it’s their voices, too. Add to that a tv, and the dog barking and my husband barking and phones ringing and, well, I just want to freak the fuck out.

So one by one I try to eliminate the noises. Put some food in my husband’s mouth and that shuts him up. Put some poison in the dogs dish… (Just kidding all of you goddamned animal rights activists. Learn to take a joke and people might like you, too.) Get the kids in the shower because it is hard to talk with water smacking you in the face.  Turn off the phones. And for all of maybe 5 minutes it’s somewhat quiet. Even the voices in my head are cooperating.

It is so rare that I actually get to experience real peace and quiet that I would actually like to meet the person that coined that phrase and find out how they do it… and then kick them in the nuts. I assume it is a man by the way, because they can tune out a plane crash in the back yard.  

Even though it is unlikely that I will have an actual breakdown or find peace and quiet for that matter, my life has given me greater understanding of the need for the creation of certain medications. My kids may not be the "strong arguments for birth control" because I could not imagine life without them, but they are a pretty good argument for Valium. My husband is a strong argument for Vodka.