Girls, Girls, Girls

The past few days have been full of errands, chores, phone calls, appointments, etc.  I have been waking up really early to try to fit everything in and I’m beat by 8:00.  I think I’ve fallen asleep before 10 every night this week.  I am trying to do some spring cleaning in January and let me tell you, it’s not easy with the little guys.  Hopefully you can’t tell in my writing that I am exhausted, but who am I kidding…..it shows everywhere, especially under my eyes.  I have dark circles because although I fall asleep before 10, I am up putting one of the boys back to bed about 12 times before I get up at 5:45.  I’m only up for a minute, but constantly waking up makes me feel like I haven’t slept well. 

Something has been on my mind the last couple of days.  I am noticing a lot of changes in Lindsey lately.  She’s moody, moves at a snail’s pace, doesn’t listen, clumsy, and extremely ditzy…..I realize finally that she’s hormonal.  I had to have a more in-depth puberty talk last night and I sounded like a nervous, bumbling idiot.  Those of you with young girls, just wait.  You think you know what you’re going to say, but it is not as easy as you think it will be.  I was trying to say things while leaving out really important details, all while keeping my cool and not embarrassing her.  I hated my mom when she talked to me about puberty.  Even that WORD, “puberty”, I wanted to jump out of a window when she said it.  Really, any of the scientific words completely grossed me out.  Remember “budding” ladies?  Ewwww!  It’s so gross!  Oh, and I threw a temper tantrum when she wanted to take me shopping for a bra.  I hated her for making me go with her and I pouted the entire time.  It wasn’t an act.  I really did hate her in that moment at the department store.    I was so embarrassed and I did not want to grow up.  I still played with dolls so how I was ready for boobs?  Oh, it’s such a horrendous time.  I would never want to go back to that age.  And here I am now, my daughter is nine and it’s me on the other end.  The bizarre thing is that Lindsey is so different than I was and she’s much younger.  She makes “ewww” faces, but she’s curious.  I can tell that she wants to grow up and be like me and that’s the thing that is the scariest to me.  She’s anxious to grow up and I wasn’t. 

I’ll tell you the truth, if you would have told me when I was in high school that I would be having this conversation in ten years with my daughter I would not have believed you.  It seemed so far away.  Also, she is NINE years old.  I thought she’d be 12 before I had to explain anything.  Long story short, she wanted to know what the word “S-E-X” is, she spelled it because she couldn’t say it to my face, and I told her that God invented it as a way to create life but it’s only for married people, and I got away with it.  Can you believe that?  She didn’t ask for any specific details!  That means that she’s not ready to hear anything else, which is good.  I was literally sweating through the conversation.  Thankfully I only have to do this once.  I don’t have to handle the boy talks.  I would rather crawl in a hole and die than to have puberty talks with my boys….I’m sure they would too. 

It is strange that this conversation happened yesterday because the fact that Lindsey is getting older was already on my mind and it was already upsetting me.  Actually, it’s been upsetting me for the past week, or year.  Two boys were checking her out at the library last week, they were probably 14.  The poor thing was hiding behind bookshelves and whining about it.  I gave them dirty looks.  I gave CHILDREN dirty looks.  Can you believe that?  It came very naturally, believe it or not.  Since that moment in the library I have been researching all-girl schools in our area and considering that insane idea of holding her back!  (I say insane because that’s what my brother said.  Actually, he said it was “terrible.”) 

I was in Pilates yesterday morning talking to a woman who I’d met this past football season.  Her little girl and Lindsey cheered together.  She told me that the school that they are going to next year (which is only 5^th and 6^th grade) is a different experience than the school they’re at now—something I have already been suspecting.  She told me that her friend dropped her little girl off on the first day and was shocked to see the other girls with their hair and make-up done.  Lindsey does her hair or I do it for her, but make-up?  These girls are at the youngest 10-year-olds and at the oldest 12-year-olds.  I can maybe see the 12-year-olds wearing make-up, but even that’s too young in my opinion.  I told Lindsey that we will talk about make-up in 7^th grade, but she’ll probably only be allowed to wear lip gloss and mascara, maybe blush.  What’s the hurry?  I don’t care what everyone else does, she isn’t wearing make-up.  She is nine and looks 14 with make-up (I’ve applied it for dance recitals and Halloween) so if she’s 12 wearing make-up what will she look like? 21?  No thank you!  Plus, I heard about that study that says that the younger a girl wears make-up the younger they are when they have sex.  Lindsey has like a 95% chance of having twins or triplets.  This is no joke; I will not be having twin grandbabies in five years.  Can you imagine that?  I’ll still be within MY child-bearing age.  And a grandma at 35?  Um, no.    Lindsey will be 28, married, and then she can have her twins.  If that study is true maybe I shouldn’t let her wear make-up until college!  She’s probably just like me, a walking baby factory! 

What makes me feel the worst though about this is that it’s my fault she doesn’t mind growing up.  The only girl she has in the house is me and I am a woman, so I think she tries to emulate me a lot.  She wants to dress like me, wear perfume and make-up like me, act like me, etc.  The bad thing is that I don’t notice her watching as much as she does.  That means when I complain about feeling fat and I do the unattractive self-loathing that we girls tend to do, she sees it.  It doesn’t matter what I say to her about her body, she thinks it’s normal to poke at herself.  I feel really bad about that and that she doesn’t have another little girl in the family to just be little with.  I’m her playmate.  And although I play with her, most of the time she just hangs out with me and the babies.  On top of that, she sees things on TV.  I just wish I could turn the clock back and maybe change some things.  I love her so much and I will do my best this day forward to make sure she stays little, but I know eventually, no matter what—I have to let go.  And that will be very hard no matter how old she is.