Hhhhhello????  Hello?  Anybody still there?  Even if it’s just to throw tomatoes at the girl who completely desserted her blog for over 6 months, yet expects people to still care about reading when she finally shows up to make a feeble apology and attempt a new post?  Well if you’re still here, I am, in fact, very very sorry for abandoning our blogship (kind of like a friendship, only cooler because you get to know all of my weaknesses and loser-isms without having to share your own) and I hope that you accept my apology and stick around to read the new post.  I think you’ll like it!  Or at least you will if you have ever been an 11 year old girl, have raised an 11 year old girl, married someone who once was an 11 year old girl, or just like to read and find my grammatical/spelling errors.

Some of you may know this already, but I have a daughter who is (you guessed it) 11 years old, and tonight I sat down and taught her two of my most favorite 11 year old girl games: M-A-S-H, and the cool little game made out of a folded piece of paper with numbers and colors on it that reveals who you’re going to marry when you grow up.  I mean, what is more exciting than finding out who you’re going to marry?  Who will be your maid of honor?  What kind of car you’ll drive?  How many kids you’re going to have?  And where you will live????  Exactly – nothing!!!!!!  It’s no great mystery that girls think of these things about a million times a day, and as much as I want to bury my head in the sand, or a bucket of margarita, I need to come to grips with the fact that my baby girl is going to go completely, insanely boy crazy any day now.  She may already be there and I’m just in denial – I’m not sure!  I keep thinking back to my elementary school days, and trying to remember all of the things I had to learn the hard way that could have gone so much smoother had someone told me what to do!  Or not to do!  I mean, this is the girl that walked around the playground with her friends at recess singing, “Oh, me so horny” not knowing that it had a meaning other than having horns on your body like a dinosaur until my classmates shushed me and looked around nervously to see if the teacher had overheard.  Sheesh!  All I knew was that you were “cool” if you knew that song.  Of course since I was several years shy of actually knowing about the birds and the bees, you can imagine my shock and horror when I realized what I had been seranading the elementary school with back in 5th grade.  So the whole point to that little story is to say that I want to do my best to equip my child with the information she will need to survive elementary, junior high, and high school without being given some horrible nickname or being known as the girl who once ate a cockroach or something.  No, I have never eaten a cockroach.  Nor has she.  It was just an example – if you have ever gone to school, you know how these things get started, and don’t go away.  EVER!  At your 25 year class reunion, you will still be the kid that ate the cockroach.

Now, before you run away with your imagination and think that I’m planning on having “the talk” with my 11 year old, let me stop you.  I’m not ready to live out the most awkward 20 minutes of my life yet, so I will save that conversation for another year.  No, what I’m talking about is the social suicide stuff: don’t cry in front of the mean girls; always check for stray toilet paper when leaving the restroom; don’t let your mom give you an Ogilvie home perm the week before you start junior high; if a boy pulls your hair that means he likes you but you should kick him in the knee anyway so he doesn’t think you like him back; if a boy breaks your heart, don’t tell your daddy because he will hate him even when you make up and get back together; if you mouth off to the school bully, stay home sick the next day so you don’t walk around fearing getting beat up . . . you know, the important things!  The problem I’m running into is how to relay this advice for situations she hasn’t experienced yet?  I’m pretty sure if I were to tell her these things now, the group text to her BFFs afterward would read something like, “omg my mom just totally wigged out on me i think she was a nerd in school”.  Sigh . . . there has to be a manual/survival guide out there for raising a pre-teen girl.  One that isn’t sugar coated with all of the “don’t worry about them fitting in, just let them express themselves” crap.  Don’t get me wrong – I LOOOOVE who my daughter is.  She is the most beautiful, creative, sassy, crazy, fun, good-hearted person I know!  I in no way attempt to squelch those amazing qualities that make her who she is.  But I mean, who wants their kid to be the awkward one who gets teased?  It’s easy enough for kids at this age to find some physical attribute that our children have no control over to make fun of, so I feel it is my responsibility to make sure my baby girl isn’t ridiculed for the things that I can help eliminate.

My plan seems absolutely perfect.  Except for one little problem – I have no idea how to implement it!  So far all I have come up with are scenese from the movie Mean Girls.  But somehow I don’t think telling my daughter not to kiss her cousins (even if they’re first cousins) and not to join the mathletes is going to help her.  I’ve done my best to make sure she knows that I am open and available for all of her questions – and have been completely honest with my responses thus far.  I’m hoping that since this system has worked well, she will continue to come to me with all of her pre-teen drama woes.  Although the time a couple of weeks ago when she stuck her head out the bathroom door all pale-faced and said in her most serious, panicked voice,”Mom, I need you to come see” I lost all feeling in my feet and thought I was going to pee my pants and throw up at the same time.  It turned out to only be a mosquito bite that she was worried about eating all the through to her bones (have I mentioned that she can be a tad dramatic? I have no idea where she gets that from.) but I was definitely certain that it was something entirely different – like the return of PMS to our household!  So maybe I’m not entirely eager to re-live my adolescence through my child, but I don’t think I have a choice at this point.  I should probably change the name of this blog to “Pass the Vodka Now”.

Oh, and how appropriate – she just walked through the living room sighing loudy, and I asked her what was wrong (I usually regret asking, but since I was writing about her thought it might be good for content).  Her reponse was more sighing and a complaint in a valley girl voice that she’s recently been using (A LOT!!!) about a neighborhood girl that wanted to come to our house and play with her.  So her complaint?  “I told her I was, like, reading, and she was, like, ‘oh, I see how that goes’, and I was like well okay then, and she just went inside so I mean really?”  You see what I mean?  What do you do with that?  Maybe I will keep the chocolate after all.  And put it in the vodka.  Pass the chocolate martini please!

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Published in: on April 4, 2012 at 4:46 pm  Comments (2)  

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2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. YAY! Glad to have you back. I shall be calling you soon for some new pictures…i say soon, maybe in 7 or 8 months or so…. for some maternity pictures….Yep! I’m Pregnant! FYI: I’ve decided you will be my lifetime photographer… hope you’re okay with that LOL!
    I look forward to your post, they remind me of myself sometimes!!! Thanks for making me smile!!!

  2. Oh my gosh that is so exciting!!!!!! Congratulations! And I’m totally cool with being your lifetime photographer – honored actually! 🙂 Already looking forward to those maternity pics!!!!


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