Her first excuse for kicking up a stick was because her legs hurt, but as so often happens when emotions run high a whole host of other complaints piggybacked on until my eldest was left a weeping ball of emo. Numerous failures at getting her to ratchet down the angst left me little choice but to cancel her plans for the evening and banish her to bed.
This did not make her terribly happy. So far from happy did it make her that the entire house shook as she stomped her way upstairs, flinging behind her the most caustic commentary about my parenting ability and ranking amongst all the other mommies.
“My throat hurts,” she whispered hours later, having been cured at least temporarily by soup, snuggles and the most important medicine, time.
“Why do you suppose that is,” I asked. I’d invited her to curl in bed with me and read before sleep but we were doing more talking than reading.
“Because I was screaming so much?”
You think? I said to myself. Out loud I told her, “Now that you’re entering puberty, you’ll probably notice that your emotions are getting much stronger. Hormones…”
She cut me off. “Mom, look at my chest.” She pulled her shirt tight and thrust the flatness in my direction. “There’s nothing there. Nothing!”
She had a point. “Nevertheless, your body is starting to make more hormones. You feel things very, very intensely when you’re a teenager.” And for long after that if you’re anything like your mom, I thought.
“Mom. I am not a teenager. I am a tween!” she said, which was all very true despite behavior to the contrary including a dramatic over-head arms fling she executed in tandem with her final words.
When we first climbed into bed I’d noticed the whiff of an odor I was sure emanated from beneath my own arms, but a subtle turn-n-sniff yielded evidence that my deodorant was still doing its job. Had another creature smeared some unspeakable bodily fluid over my bed, I wondered vaguely, but when my tween-aged darling threw up her hands I had my answer. I grabbed her arm with the intention of doing a confirmatory test but six inches away the odor knocked me back. “Child,” I exclaimed, “You stink!”
“I do not!” she jerked her arm away and looked shocked.
“You do,” I told her, and encouraged her in the strongest of terms to being using (and not just admiring) the stick of deodorant I’d bought for her some months back. What an unenviable place to find oneself, I thought. Young enough to fall victim to the most gawdawful fits and old enough for stinky pits.
It’s going to be a long adolescence.
My daughter also stinks. I get the opposite reaction when I talk to her about it – her response is: “I smell wonderful!” then she skips from the room. I have finally started getting her to wash her face which I consider a small victory. We haven’t been getting fits, but mainly breakdowns. A paper gets ripped or book is lost – and she is in hysterics. It’s so hard to understand acutely what she’s going through while she does not herself. All I feel I can do is hang onto her – stinky pits and all – and help her get through the ride as best I can.
I admire all mothers, especially those of adolescents and teens…you’ve got the emotional strength to stiff-upper-lip the never-ending stream of tantrum directed square at you, the experience to outsmart them at their own game, and the knowledge that this, too, shall pass.
My hat is off to all of you!!!
Best,
Baby Girl :-)
Aren’t all adolescenses long? I’m 54 and still in mine.
But… but… I thought the toddler years were when all the awfulness happened. Terrible twos, right? Are you telling me it gets WORSE? Will it never end? I think I’m gonna go throw a tantrum in my room for a bit.
Three is exponentially worse than two. Gird your loins. :)
If #3 child is worse at 3 then she is now. at 2..God help me…lol
I have a soon-to-be 12 year-old. Son. I can’t tell if this is better or worse than a daughter, but I buckle my seatbelt and do a “did you put your deodorant on?” check daily.
Good Luck,, it only gets more “fun”,from here on out…
I have 3 children, 2 sons and a daughter. I adore them and may I say that the teen years are SO wild, it is exhausting and exhilarating all at the same time. The hormones and emotions of a girl are downright god awful, hehe. I wonder how my mother didn’t put me out on the doorstep! I wish you well!!
I have 3 girls, and I remember when each of them got to the point where they started to stink like that…lol…especially my oldest who is 1/2 Chaldean…she would get into the car when I would pick her up after school and I could smell her before she got all the way in! All I could think was, OMG all the kids have to be able to smell that too! Now it’s my youngest who is going through that..and you will have to check and remind lots of time before they get it and remember it on their own, but they eventually do.
My poor eldest niece – my sister-in-law shared at a packed thanksgiving table once the conversation her daughter had with her a few days prior about shaving her armpits, the subject of which came up after her younger sister demanded to trade shirts (her tee for younger sis’ tank) and she wouldn’t acquiesce. The poor thing was mortified as her entire extended family became aware at the same time that she had hairy armpits. May I have the forethought not to blurt out info like this on my future kid!
Yeah, it’s long and seems longer but it will end. Really, it does.