Struggling to grow up

The appointment last week went well. Queen Teen was her usual trooper self and the doctor was actually helpful. And then a trip to the Disney Store made everything all better. She was grinning like ... well, like a kid who gets to pick out anything she wants at the Disney Store. And then we got pizza on the way home. As Queen Teen says, "No one can resist pizza." Overall, it wasn't such a bad day.

The doctor was impressed with Queen Teen. She's a 16 year old girl dealing with the typical adolescent challenge of trying to gain independence from her parents, while at the same time coping with the loss of hearing and all the rest of her disabilities. But she is managing to do this with strength, humor, and sheer determination. She is angry, and has every right to be. She's nervous and afraid, but at the same time willing to push the boundaries to gain more independence. Her body won't let her do the things other kids are doing; sometimes her body won't even let her do what she wants to do. Absolutely everything she does is hard work, including sitting in a chair. No wonder she lashes out sometimes. No wonder she cries when she has to go to one more doctor, no matter how nice the doctor might be.

I remember how hard 16 was; life seriously sucked ass. I had my own overwhelming problems that I barely managed to cope with, but none of them can compare to what Queen Teen must cope with every day. The thing she has that I didn't at 16 is a supportive family. She knows that no matter what, Rick and I will always be there for her. She is loved by us and her dad and her extended family. We've all got her back. Even on her worst days, when she's growling with rage and lashing out at everyone around her, we are still there for her. That's a certainty she doesn't have to doubt.

When I think about Queen Teen and her future, I am hopeful. It will never be easy, but she is an astounding human being, capable of far more than anyone expected. She learned to walk when we were told she wouldn't. Now she's learning to read after everyone figured it would be impossible. There is a joy in her that nothing can extinguish. And I will do everything I can to guard that joy. Queen Teen  impresses the hell out of everyone she meets. But the next few years are going to be tough. She's struggling to grow up and figure out her place in the world, just like every other teen-ager. Her place is a bit more complicated to find, but she will. She's that's determined.

Sweet 16

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.

Reality

"Cinderella remembered me and was happy to see me," Queen Teen said after Cinderella stopped by our table in Ariel's Grotto. The Princess helped Queen Teen stand, hugged her tightly, and then chatted for a moment. She signed Queen Teen's autograph book then moved on to the next table where more starry eyed little girls waited for her.

Cinderella is Queen Teen's favorite. From the moment she first saw the movie when she was 4,  Cinderella has been her bestest imaginary friend and personal hero. And when she actually met Cinderella at Disneyland three years ago, Queen Teen acted as if she'd had lunch with Miley Cyrus. Cinderella is real and lives in Disneyland with the other Disney Princesses, Tinker Bell and Mickey Mouse!

When do kids stop believing that Princess Jasmine and Arielle are real?

At age fifteen I suppose she should be past that stage, but she isn't. In fact, since her hearing disappeared she seems stuck at an in-between stage: too old to be a little girl, but unable to take that leap into being a teenager. She doesn't know who Justin Beiber is and couldn't care less.

When she was 3, she had an imaginary best friend named Bobby who went everywhere with her. He stayed by her side until she was in the 2nd grade, which is when she made real friends. Some girls in her class began sitting with her at lunch, playing with her at recess, and one invited Queen Teen to her birthday party. All through elementary school, she had a large group of girl friends, all of who vanished when she entered Middle School. They moved on to cell phones, spent their time chasing boys, and one began teasing Queen Teen, distancing herself from the "retarded kid." This is the same time Queen Teen's hearing declined, until by the 9th grade Queen Teen was profoundly deaf.

Her imaginary friend has returned, this time by the name of Sara. Queen Teen spends her days at home talking to Sara and Cinderella, laughing at their jokes, arguing over something Queen Teen may have done, debating the merits of good manners, and giving advice. Even at school, I've seen her turn her head and say out loud, "What did you say Sara? Oh yeah... you can say that again."

It makes a lot of sense that she'd talk to people in her head more than the people around her. It's difficult having a conversation with people in the real world. Imaginary people speak a language she can understand, and they always understand her.  Cinderella is one of her best-friends. We visit her every year at her home, Disneyland, and every year Cinderella stops at our table and gives Queen Teen a hug.

This year, Queen Teen finally met her second most favorite Disneyland person, Mary Poppins. Mary Poppins and Bert spent a long time with her, chatting and smiling. They took their time and gave Queen Teen a chance to talk, too, something most people don't have the time to do in the so-called real world.

That's the best part of our trips to Disneyland; every cast-member takes their time with her, even when they're pressed for time by the hundreds of other children waiting their turn to visit. Whoever trains them has done a fantastic job. I wish they could train us how to do it.

How does Queen Teen define reality? It seems that the world she's created inside her own head is more real than the world we all live in out here, with our hectic schedules and demands, our complicated language increasingly difficult to understand, and our too fast pace. If Justin Bieber is the real world, Queen Teen doesn't want anything to do with it.

Transition

Queen Teen's IEP was last week, and it was a big one. It was her tri-annual IEP, which is always extra complicated, and because she will be 16 in May (!), a transition plan was added into the mix. There were extra people and extra forms and a brand new section of IEP paperwork to fill out. The meeting took over two hours simply because there was so much to discuss and plan for. I thought I was ready. My husband and I had been talking for a month about what we thought Queen Teen will need to live as independently as possible. I had also met with Queen Teen's Regional Center worker and the Regional Center transition coordinator  to discuss  my concerns and questions about her future. I'd done my homework on what should be included in the transition section of an IEP and I even made gluten free chocolate brownies for the meeting. Yep, I thought I was ready.

I was so wrong.  

The meeting itself was fine. Everyone, from her teachers and aids to her therapists, are working incredibly hard for Queen Teen. Their energy and creativity are limitless, which is good, because Queen Teen is a hard kid to work with. Deaf-blindness and a severe mobility impairment make everything a challenge; just finding out what she wants for lunch can take ten minutes. She is smart and funny and eager to learn, which I think is what fires people up so much to help. Nobody wants to slack on this kid when she's trying so hard. 

So the educational part of the IEP was fine. The team works well together and her goals are strong. The reports from the PT and OT looked good and I even agreed to allow the PT to cut back on direct service because it was becoming disruptive to Queen Teen, although that idea took me a few days to think about. 

What got me was the planning for the future. 

I have dreams for Queen Teen: all parents do. We want our children to be happy and productive and maybe find someone to love. I envision Queen Teen living on her own in a house with roommates, supported by a live-in aid and a nurse. She will work at the local hospital in the NICU, rocking newborn babies whose mothers are unable to be at the hospital regularly. Or maybe she'll work in a day care center with toddlers. Queen Teen is crazy about babies, so I know she'll want to work with little kids someday. 

My husband and I also talk about what we'll do when she's grown up and it's just the two of us. What will we do with the house? Will we stay, or move? Will she want to stay in the house? I'm convinced Queen Teen will live outside our home because she is far too independent and stubborn to want to live with me forever. She's going to want to make her own way in the world, with Rick and I still there to support her and help her when she needs it.

But now, it's really starting to happen. Real, concrete plans are being made. Ideas for what types of work she may do are being discussed. Her educational goals are being geared toward what skills she will need to thrive and survive as an adult. She will turn 16 next month and in two years she will be 18 and able to make her own choices about her life. Will she decide to stay in High School, or move on to a Vocational Program? Will she want to move closer to her father in the Bay Area? Will she insist on living with me until she's 30? Will she be able to live on her own?

I had to fight back tears several times during the meeting, not entirely sure why I wanted to cry. Planning for Queen Teen's future is exciting. I want her to have her own life. But why did that idea make me want to grab my daughter who was sitting beside me during the meeting, and hold her tight. I had asked her if she wanted to stay for the meeting and surprisingly she said yes. She got bored pretty quickly, but didn't want Rick to come and pick her up. She chose to stay. She ate brownies, chatted with one of her teachers, and looked at books. Which right there is a huge step for her. She hates it when people talk about her and usually runs as far and as fast as possible from any kind of IEP.  We'd all talked to her ahead of time about what she'd like to do when she grew up ("Be a Princess.") and if she had anything she'd like to tell the team ("Not really.").  During the meeting itself she didn't contribute, but she stayed in her seat and didn't announce ever four minutes how bored she was. We were all very proud of her. This could be the first step toward her being more involved in planning her future.

As I write this, she is sitting on her bedroom floor talking to her imaginary friend "Sara" while looking at Sponge Bob books. Sometimes she is such a child, while at other times she's almost an adult. She pulls me tight, needing my constant reassurance and security, and then pushes me away, yelling at me for some silly thing like her hair slipping out of her hair band and why hadn't I put it in better. She is so beautiful I am stunned sometimes. How can this fragile creature be so strong?

She'll likely still be living with me for at least another five years; she has a long way to go before she'll be ready to be more independent. So we both have time to get used to the reality that she is growing up and will soon be an adult. Funny, we watch our kids growing up every day, celebrating the milestones, but when it comes time to start letting go, it feels as if we're being asked to peel the skin from our own arms. My baby! Don't go. Stay with me and be little and sweet. Bake cookies and draw pictures and go for long walks with me. Giggle over something the dog does, laugh at Sponge Bob with me, dream of princesses. But don't let go of me.

Not until I'm ready to let go of you.

Boys

After observing Queen Teen in class at the high school, I discovered one very important fact: Queen Teen is popular with the boys. They watch her walk by with curiosity and a little bit of longing in their eyes. They have stammering conversations with her that involve them asking questions and then staring at their feet while they wait for her to reply, which she usually doesn't do. They look for her in the cafeteria and then maneuver for the closest spot beside her, but not too close because they don't want to crowd her (she hates that). Primarily, I'm talking about the boys in her SDC program, but I also saw some of the boys in the general campus population secretly checking her out, and it wasn't just because she was in a wheelchair.

Queen Teen is beautiful. It's not just me saying that, either. She has dark hair and dark blue eyes, pale cream skin and naturally red lips, long limbs and a smile that can turn a teen-aged boy to jello. And although she is still a little shy and has a hard time hearing when the boys are talking to her, I've watched her slowly become aware of the power she has over the opposite sex. She smiles shyly and actually bats her eyes. I'm not sure she really understands what's going on, though. She simply seems to enjoy learning to flirt.

There is a boy at school who hunts for her in the cafeteria every day and then glows with pleasure when he gets to push her in her wheelchair. Sometimes she lets him, sometimes she doesn't. It's always her call, and I think he lives for the moments she turns to him and says with a smile, "You can push my chair." Another boy asks her every day if she'll come to the gym to watch him shoot hoops. She rarely does, but on those few occasions when she does appear, he practically does cart wheels, he's so excited.

And now I have the task of trying to decide how much I need to explain to her about what all this male attention means. She still seems a bit oblivious. To her, boys are "silly," and the ones who give her extra attention are even "sillier." How much does she understand about flirting and relationships? I've been waiting forever for her to ask me questions about boys and sex and where babies come from, but she never has. It looks like I need to start asking her the questions.

It's fun watching her blossom and begin to flex her flirting muscles. She's stunning. Gorgeous.

In fact, I'd better go get a shot gun and a chastity belt. Or I wonder if there's a nunnery I can send her to?

Sanity?

I started my internship two weeks early. My master teacher contacted me and asked if I could observe an assessment of a new student that she thinks I may be working with once I start. "It would be good for you to see her from the beginning." Hell yeah! Not only was I eager to begin, but I'd just found out that due to the university not being able to use student TA's in their O and M classes anymore (thanks to some new accreditation regulations), I'd just lost 20 hours a month of intern hours and it will be a miracle if I finish my internship on time.

Rick rearranged his schedule to accommodate this change and I rushed off to Petaluma to meet my master teacher and my possible first student. I can't go into specifics, but I will say that despite my driving 150 miles in 108 degree temperature with a barely working AC, it was a great day. Finally seeing what I'd learned being used by a professional, experienced, O and M instructor was fascinating. It was so great, I volunteered to come back thursday, friday and the following monday.

But when thursday rolled around, reality set in. I am not prepared to start my internship at all. Rick was stressing, trying to support me by getting all his work done in time to meet Queen Teen's school bus, and I was trying to shove my giant to-do list into one day, something that proved impossible. I haven't even set up regular after school child care yet! What the hell was I thinking?

I observed my teacher again on thursday, then explained that I was wrong about starting so early. She understood completely and told me not to worry. When I explained how I'd lost so many intern hours and was worried about not graduating on time, she was shocked. But she agreed that I shouldn't put my family and myself through so much stress to try and make up hours before any of us are ready.

Is this a glimmer of sanity? Am I really learning to pace myself and make choices that support my mental health, rather than living my life like some kind of marathon with a finish line in sight?

I'm still worried about my internship hours and really angry about it. Losing 20 hours a month is going to be impossible to make up! Oh well...  just gotta keep breathing, stay sane, and keep moving forward.

First Day of High School

This morning, Queen Teen started High School. She was a little nervous yesterday, and very sleepy this morning (why does school start so frickin early?!), but by the time she was dressed and in the car, she was smiling. Driving her to school, I remembered her first day of preschool when she was a tiny three year old. I helped her out of the car and then walked with her to the group of preschoolers standing together in front of the school building with their parents and the teacher. She held my hand tightly, but grinned when she saw the other kids. Once all the kids were gathered, the teacher took Queen Teen's hand to help her walk (this was back when QT could walk on her own without a walker, but on uneven ground she needed a hand to keep her balance) and all of the children followed in a line, holding each other's hands. Most of them were crying and a few had refused to let go of their moms, but Queen Teen looked back at me, smiled, waved with her free hand, and said, "Bye Mom." Then she happily went to class with her teacher.

I went back to my car and burst into tears.

And now here we are, 12 years and 24 inches later, on the first day of High School. Dressed in a Tinker Bell t-shirt and light-blue skirt, Queen Teen looked confident. When we got to school, she grabbed the arms of her walker and walked to the front door, grinning when she recognized her aid from the 8th grade who had followed QT to 9th grade. I helped Queen Teen find her desk and explained to the aid why QT wasn't wearing her hearing aids (eczema is still a major problem). At last, it was time to go. Kneeling beside Queen Teen, I said, "Bye sweety. Have a good day at school."

She smiled at me and said, "Bye Mom."

And then I went back to my car and cried.

Was this a particularly grueling graduation, or are all graduations this long?

My husband Rick finished his training at Empire College and his graduation ceremony was on Monday. When he was laid-off, the Employment Department sent him back to school to get his certifications up to date (he's a computer tech). My husband despises school, so the year of classes and exams was torturous. He likes learning, but he has no patience for the hoops one is forced to hop through to fulfill the requirements of school. At last he finished, and to celebrate he decided to walk with his graduating class.

The graduation ceremony was almost as grueling as his classes.

Queen Teen and I arrived just as the graduating class was walking in to the auditorium to "Pomp and Circumstance." We found a seat in the back near the wheelchair spot and settled in for what I knew was going to be a long production. Queen Teen gave it her best, really wanting to be there for Rick, but by the third speaker she was shaking and begging to leave. We went out to the lobby and walked around for a while, but after 30 minutes she still didn't want to go back into the auditorium. So we kept walking, back and forth, from the front door to the back, stepping outside for fresh air, then back inside to peek through the doors for a glimpse of what was going on in the ceremony. Holy crap, they were still "speaking." How many frickin speakers did they have? Another 30 minutes passed and the key note speaker, a guy from a local credit union, started his incredibly boring, pointless, all about him, speech. I wasn't the only person getting fed up. The lobby was slowly filling with other parents with their restless, crying, and grumpy children in tow. The only thing that seemed to keep Queen Teen calm was if we kept walking, so I pushed her wheelchair more, back and forth, for an hour and a half. I didn't dare stop because then she'd tremble violently and beg to leave.

I have to applaud her effort, though. She really wanted to be there for Rick, and when at last they handed out the certificates, she agreed to go back into the auditorium so we could cheer for him when he walked across the stage (I cheered. She buried her head against my thigh). As soon as we he got his certificate, Queen Teen and I went back to the lobby and began walking again. 20 more minutes passed before everyone got their certificates and left the stage. After several minutes of searching, Rick found us huddled together amidst a mass of people. He was hot and irritated from sitting for over two hours under hot stage lights in a cap and gown over his jeans and dress shirt. "Let's go," he said with a scowl.

He felt terrible for putting Queen Teen through what turned into an ordeal for her, but really appreciated that we'd stayed to the end. What made the whole thing worse was the feeling that the graduation ceremony was more of a marketing tool for Empire than a real celebration of the student's accomplishments. The speakers talked about the school, not the students, and I felt like they were trying to convince family members to sign up for classes at Empire too. The dean of the school, who was the first speaker, even got the town wrong! Come on, it was Santa Rosa, not San Jose.

I feel bad for Rick who had wanted something better to celebrate the fact that he'd stuck with his classes and got straight A's. I'm really proud of him, and of Queen Teen, who struggled with her anxiety and did her best to be there for Rick. She's really growing up.

But I think when it's my turn to graduate, she'll skip the ceremony. The after-party's more fun anyway.

Some pictures from Graduation

My beautiful daughter on her 8th grade graduation.

Queen Teen and her teacher, Laura Fogg, and our good friend, Sharon

                    

  Getting her Certificate

                                                                         Cousins

8th grade graduation: what's the big deal?

Today is Queen Teen's last day of Jr High. Tonight is graduation and a celebration here at the house with family and many of the people who have helped her get this far: teachers, therapists, advocates and friends. She has a new, pink and white polka dot dress (so pretty!) and a new white crochet bolero sweater. Family from far away have been sending cards, cash and good wishes. I'm cleaning the house and baking quiche for the party. Only one problem...

Queen Teen doesn't know what the hell is going on.

I've been trying to explain what "8th grade graduation" is for a month.

"Graduation is a ceremony where are all the kids who are in the 8th grade are honored for all their hard work. You get an award and all your family and friends will be there and we'll cheer."

She looked at me slack jawed and blinked.

"Um... we're going to have a party here at the house to celebrate all the hard work you've done. Then we'll go to the high school with the other 8th graders and you'll get your award."

Again, she stared at me, this time scrunching her eyebrows.

"It will be fun. You'll see. Your cousin is coming..."

She smiled at that.

"... and Nana and Uncle Chris and Aunt Margie and Grandpa Bear..."

She giggled.

"We'll all be there to cheer when you get your award for finishing Jr. High."

"Why?"

"Why will we be there?"

"Why do I get a award?"

"Because you worked very hard and are now ready to go to High School."

She sighed. "I don't understand anything."

I've tried this conversation several times. I've looked for books about graduation and found one with Clifford, but it didn't arrive in time. I've looked for movies, but didn't find any she would understand. The problem is that the concept of a graduation is completely foreign to her. We went to her cousin's 8th grade graduation two years ago but we had to leave early because she had a panic attack.

She really doesn't care about all this fuss. What Queen Teen wants is for her days to be normal again. Early release, assemblies, parties and field days at school are annoying. Why all the excitement? All the fuss and rushing around. Everything just needs to be "normal." Then she'll be happy.

Later this morning I'll meet Queen Teen and her O and M teacher, Laura, to check out the location of the graduation and figure out how to get Queen Teen on the platform to accept her certificate. Wheelchair or Walker? One of her classmates, a strong boy who has become a good friend, will help her. But as we're sorting out the details of where she will sit and how she will get her diploma, I'm beginning to have doubts about the whole thing. The ceremony takes place on the football field, just as her cousin's graduation did. Will Queen Teen have a panic attack like she did at her cousin's graduation? Will she be able to sit through the almost 2 hours of speeches and band performances?

Who is this graduation for? Queen Teen, or me?

If it was up to Queen Teen she'd skip the whole thing.

But I want her to experience what a graduation is and accept her certificate, be acknowledged for all her hard work, and soak up some of the accolades that she misses out on.

Again, is that for her, or me?

If it's for me, is that so bad?

The day Queen Teen announced she likes katsup

It's been a good week for Queen Teen. She got her hearing aids back last Monday and although they seem to bother the inside of her ears, she seems happy to have them again. Her teachers have reported that she's engaged and eager at school and even took part in a school wide, jump-rope fund raiser by rolling her wheelchair over the rope on her own several times. At home she's been joking with me and Rick again, playing with the dog and laughing more. Must be good to hear again.

One day as we were eating hot-dogs for dinner, she looked at my plate and said, "You know, I'm older now. I might like katsup."

Queen Teen has eaten her hot-dogs with butter since she was old enough to eat a hot-dog. Anytime we've tried giving her katsup or mayo she's spit her food out and yelled at us for giving her anything so "yucky." So I was surprised when she announced she might like it.

"Do you want to try some?" I asked.

She nodded.

Picking up a piece of her hot dog bun, I dipped it into some of my katsup and then popped it into her mouth. She closed her lips tightly and looked at me wide eyed. Would she spit it out?

After a moment, she chewed the bread and swallowed it, then announced, "I like it. Can I have more?"

I fed her bits of bread dipped in katsup and she gobbled each like she'd just discovered the most fascinating taste in the world. "Katsup is good. I like it now. I must be growing up."

She repeated this over and over for several minutes, right up until she climbed into the tub. "I'm growing up. Katsup tastes good. That must mean I'm growing up."

If she knew a song about katsup, she would've been singing it.

Do you know the way to teen-aged land?

I keep finding toys in the hallway: stuffed animals and baby doll clothes, Berenstain Bear books, Rugrats figurines, a Cinderella Barbie and Baby Cinderella in a matching blue dress, Matchbox cars, bouncy balls, a little plastic Fairy Godmother. Queen Teen tosses out three to four things every day, declaring the item as "boring," and throwing it into the hall. Yes, I try to tell her throwing things into the hallway is not okay, but it seems like this is her way of rebelling against childhood. I will not play with this toy anymore and I will throw them into the hall! So there!

I have several piles of old books and toys in my bedroom now which are in my way, but I'm making sure she's really done with them before I send them to Goodwill. Are you SURE you're tired of playing with the mini-van that goes to your doll house? Tired of reading all the Baby Honey books? Over the years she's declared herself "DONE" with a toy, only to have a melt-down when I told her I gave it away. "But I wanted that!" she'd cry. "You told me you didn't want it anymore." "No I didn't!" I've learned my lesson, so now I wait. But for how long?

Queen Teen is trying very hard to grow up, which is exciting to watch, but also frustrating. Neither of us knows how to do this. She doesn't have any teen-age role models to emulate, and I have to say I'm actually happy she isn't copying the 8th graders at her school. She still thinks boys are "ucky," and cell phones are mysterious. She likes clothes and shopping, but there's only so much we can buy. She spends a lot of time looking at her bracelet collection and necklaces, trying them on, admiring herself in the mirror, taking them off, then yelling for me to help her untangle them. She hates makeup.

Her room is getting emptier and we still haven't found anything to replace all the items she's tossing. What will she do with her time when she no longer wants to play with toys?

Deaf-blind children do not learn incidentally. They need to be SHOWN what is going on around them. They need to be taught how to be social, what to wear, what to say, how to interact with people. She isn't picking up on the subtle clues that other kids do that show them what growing up is like. All she knows is that her old toys and books don't interest her any more, but she has no idea how to take the next step.

I need ideas, people. How do I show my 14 year old daughter how to be a teenager?

Not a Princess this year

Queen Teen is having a Halloween crisis. For the last three years she has been a princess, complete with gown and tiara. But this year, when I pulled out her Cinderella gown, she sighed heavily and sat on her bed.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She shrugged.

"Do you want to be a princess this year?"

"I don't know."

(Great! Here we go again.) "You have this beautiful dress you've only worn once at Disneyland. Would you like to wear it for Halloween?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want to be something else?"

At this, she looked at me and said, "Maybe."

(Progress!) "What would you like to dress up as?"

"I'm not sure."

(Dang!) "Your grandpa sent you some kitty-cat ears. Would you like to be a cat?"

She shrugged. I got the ears and she tried them on, but they wouldn't stay upright on her head, which made her mad. Then we tried the bunny ears her dad had worn with his stilts, but they were too big. I asked if she'd like to be a movie star but she said she didn't know. We were both getting frustrated.

"You only have four days to decide, and if you want my help getting a costume, you need to decide soon."

She shrugged.

"You know, you don't have to dress up this year if you don't want to."

She looked at me with surprise.

I sat on the bed beside her. "Really. Lots of kids your age decide they don't want to dress up anymore." But as I said this, I realized how bummed I would be if she decided not to dress up and trick-or-treat this year. Halloween is my favorite holiday and part of why I love it so much is because Queen Teen has been celebrating it with me. There is nothing like spending this crazy holiday with kids. Queen Teen is no longer a kid, she's a teenager, and she's reached the age where most kids think dressing up on Halloween is for babies.

Is Queen Teen about to give up Halloween, just like she gave up Hug Bear this year?

The next day I asked about costumes again. She just shrugged. I said, "You could be a gypsy."

"What's that?" she asked.

"A person who sings songs and dances in beautiful, colorful clothes, and travels around performing, and tells fortunes."

Her eyes brightened. "That sounds like fun."

"You can borrow my skirt and some scarves and wear your colorful necklaces, even bells if you'd like."

She grinned. "Okay."

Yes! We will be trick-or-treating at least one more year.

Goodbye Hug Bear

About a week ago, I went into Queen Teen's room to tuck her in and found Hug Bear on the floor. I picked up the soft, matted, lumpy teddy-bear she's slept with since she was 5 and put it back in the bed with her.

Two nights ago I helped her climb into bed with her books and while I tucked the blankets around her I noticed Hug Bear wasn't on the bed. I secretly scanned the floor, even checking under the bed, but there was no sign of him. Rather than say anything to Queen Teen about her missing, favorite bear, I left her to her books. When I went back to cover her up for lights out, I waited for the question, "Where's Hug Bear?" She didn't say anything.

Yesterday I noticed she had moved her Disneyland dolls onto the bed (baby Belle, Little Cinderella and Rosetta the Fairy). I was still puzzled about Hug Bear. Where was he, and why wasn't Queen Teen asking about him? She's never been able to sleep without him; in fact when she left him at her dad's house one time she cried every night until her dad mailed him back to her. When she was in the hospital for her feet surgery Hug Bear never left her arms. And he has been a constant companion during every doctor's appointment for the last 9 years.

While putting her sweater away, I found Hug Bear. He was shoved into a cubby with the other dolls she doesn't play with but doesn't want to give up. Hug Bear was unceremoniously stuffed in with Sally, the Russian rag doll she got when she was 2; Magenta and Blue, Pooh Bear, Little Bear, Emily, the four stuffed dogs and Dirga the kitty who purrs when you squeeze her tummy.

I stared at that stuffed bear as if I had found a bag of weed in her room. The day had finally come: Queen Teen no longer needed Hug Bear.

She had decided on her own that she didn't need to sleep with Hug Bear anymore and hadn't said a word to me, so I didn't ask her. But the thought of her most treasured stuffed bear hanging alone in a cubby on the back of her door makes me very, very sad, even though I know her giving up her bear is a good thing. She's growing up, gaining skills and maturity, becoming more of herself and not a child. I'm excited for her, but sad at the same time. I will miss that little girl.