We've reached twelve again. Oh mothers complaining of the terrible two's wait until you get to twelve. There is something about this age where the push really begins. And while I have weathered twelve once already, it doesn't take the burn out of going through it again. The one thing I learned from the first time is that it passes. Now at fourteen my oldest is getting better, even actually closer though we still have our moments. Now with the youngest at twelve we are back to the eye rolls, the "I know"s, the "I don't care"s and "This is stupid"s, and the disappearing into the bedroom for long periods of time. I know what this is. I know this is burgeoning womanhood. I know this is hormones and testing boundaries and thinking for yourself. I know, I've read the books. I watched my oldest go through it. It doesn't make it easier though when they turn against you. When they hate you. When you are "the meanest mother in the world". But my dear friends whose girls are grown say that it passes. The next day, you get them back even for just a little bit (whew) and by the time they walk out the door for good, you will miss them.
Here's to the almost teenage girl. May we love them through their hormones, their drama, their crazy skin and hair, their fluctuating moods, their obsessions, their vicious independence and their intense hatred.
And may we borrow their sparkly shoes to feed the birds after they leave for school.
