On Thursday, May 26, my baby girl turns sixteen. Sixteen! And I have to say, so far there's nothing sweet about sixteen. For the last week and a half, she has been moody, rude, short-tempered, and ornery. She gives orders like Princess Know-it-all and seems genuinely shocked when I refuse to obey.
I like it.
She's behaving like any other typical teenaged, American girl, picking fights with her mother and believing with all her heart that the world revolves around her every whim.
The world no longer revolves around her mother (me).
I miss that little girl who used to cling to my legs with her tiny arms and giggle when I tried to walk. I miss the child who loved to sneak into my room and try on my hats. I miss the days when she and I would each wear one of her tiaras and have a tea party with her stuffed bear and Strawberry Shortcake doll. That little girl is long gone; now I live with a young woman who no longer thinks that I am a perfect symbol of womanhood and the greatest role model in the entire universe.
I'm glad. I want her to grow up, be independent, find her own path and her own identity. I want her to become her own person, separate from me. It makes me sad to feel her push me away, but I also feel excited and happy for her.
It's annoying though. Twice I've had to reprimand her for being rude: that was just today. And in the last week I've thought very seriously about packing her up and sending her to her dad's.
Why does growing up have to be so hard on the parents?
Happy birthday my darling, difficult, fabulous girl. You are wonderful.
I like it.
She's behaving like any other typical teenaged, American girl, picking fights with her mother and believing with all her heart that the world revolves around her every whim.
The world no longer revolves around her mother (me).
I miss that little girl who used to cling to my legs with her tiny arms and giggle when I tried to walk. I miss the child who loved to sneak into my room and try on my hats. I miss the days when she and I would each wear one of her tiaras and have a tea party with her stuffed bear and Strawberry Shortcake doll. That little girl is long gone; now I live with a young woman who no longer thinks that I am a perfect symbol of womanhood and the greatest role model in the entire universe.
I'm glad. I want her to grow up, be independent, find her own path and her own identity. I want her to become her own person, separate from me. It makes me sad to feel her push me away, but I also feel excited and happy for her.
It's annoying though. Twice I've had to reprimand her for being rude: that was just today. And in the last week I've thought very seriously about packing her up and sending her to her dad's.
Why does growing up have to be so hard on the parents?
Happy birthday my darling, difficult, fabulous girl. You are wonderful.
4 comments:
Happy Sweet Sixteen to the Queen Teen! I don't look forward to the adolescent years, but there is something to be said for being grateful for that rebellious streak! I can't believe she is sixteen!
Happy birthday, princess! Can't believe you're sixteen, but I suppose the math works out so I'll have to take its word and some junk.
I'm having a hard time believing it myself.
happy sweet sixteen to your beautiful, grown-up, girl.
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