A week ago today the girls went back to school. They are both in high school now, a freshman and a senior. To say it has been bittersweet for me would be an understatement. They are both so bright, creative, smart and beautiful it makes my heart explode with rainbows, glitter and unicorns. They are also growing up and the end is in sight which makes my heart implode with Smiths songs, pond scum and larva.

I was never one of those mothers that wanted to keep her kids little forever. Quite frankly, when they were able to feed themselves, sleep through the night (and now day), poop in a toilet and yes, even drive, I was very happy. I’m nothing if not a little lazy. I’ve always seen my job as a mother as that of preparing them to be independent, doesn’t mean I have to like it when it inevitably happens. It is also inevitable that there will be regrets. Looking back and wishing I had done things differently. Worrying that at times we are too close and at other times wishing we were more connected. Goes with the territory I guess.

There is also something else that happens in a mother/daughter relationship that rarely gets talked about, the breaking apart. I’ve asked many of my friends who have already gone through it if it happened to them and some have said yes and others no. But I think it is pretty common. What happens is that your daughter, when faced with burgeoning independence, goes all crazy and hurtful toward you. It happens. It has happened to me a couple times over the past few months. It is similar to the “I hate you” tantrums that happen during early adolescence, but for me it is deeper and more painful. This isn’t a big explosion of angry words, no, typically it is only a well placed put down, dismissive look or biting retort that ends up with me hiding in the bathroom wiping away tears and her going on as if nothing ever happened.  It signals that she is trying to find a way to breakaway and by hurting my feelings in some way it will be easier. Because she knows me in a way pretty much no one else does, she can cut to the quick much easier. But like the many summer thunderstorms we’ve had this year it passes as soon as it strikes, often leaving some kind of mess in its wake.

Christo on a Wheat Thin.

Wednesday is the first day of school for the new year. All Moms everywhere know what means. Shopping. Shoot me now. Or rather why didn’t someone shoot me on Sunday? Please.

Shopping with (or for) my girls is so hard. Don’t misunderstand, they aren’t whiners and don’t beg for inappropriate things that we can’t afford. Rather both of them are next to impossible to find clothing that fits them. And the problem is a matter of extremes.

If I had to name the biggest failure I’ve had as a mother it would be Sarah and her weight. I noticed very early on that she was getting chubby at about 6 or 7 years old. We were homeschooling at the time and I tried to find ways to incorporate more physical activity into our day. I also signed her up for soccer, dance and gymnastics at different times to try to meet both her social and physical needs. All to no avail. She inherited the family disdain for organized sports and group activities. As time went on and her size increased I tried different things at the same time trying to NOT make an issue of it all.

Growing up in the 70s and 80s in the era of after school specials and “very special episodes” of Family Ties and Blossom, I was hyper-aware of what negative implications might come from a mother obsessing about her daughter’s weight. I didn’t want her to have self-esteem issues and eating disorders. Instead I failed in the opposite direction. I figured she’d eventually decide it was time to do something about it and when she wanted to slim down I’d be there to help her in a positive and healthy way. And we’ve tried. Lord knows we’ve tried.

To add insult to injury Emma is tiny. She takes after my sister in law who was 115 pounds and had a 32 inch waist two weeks after giving birth to her first son. I know this because she was in my wedding party and I had to take her measurements to the seamstress who was making my bridesmaids’ dresses at the time. Emma is going into 7th grade and still can’t shop in the Junior’s Dept. I finally bought her one of those pathetic little padded bras because she was so depressed about never getting boobies. She is built somewhat like a gazelle or young thoroughbred. All legs and no curves. Many would envy her (I know her sister and I have our moments) but in reality it is as hard as the other extreme that is her sister. Her friends are getting bras because they need them and are getting their first periods and filling out bathing suits and cute sundresses in ways she may never get to do. She can only find clothes that really fit her (but are too short) with Jonas Bros. and Dora the Explorer emblazoned across them. She has a fierce sense of style and has a hard time being able to realize it.

Emma’s situation is easier on me as a Mom. She may grow, she will eventually go through puberty. It isn’t as hard on the psyche to be skinny in our society. Being a size 00 has its hardships but for the most part it is something that is looked at as a positive in our culture. I’m don’t agree with this but it is what it is. She can’t help or take credit for the genetic lottery she won.

Sarah’s situation on the other hand is something I struggle with on a daily basis. Days like today are particularly hard on both of us. It got to the point that we just gave up trying to find clothes around here. For a few years I made her most of her clothes. That was fine until the teen years hit and she wanted to wear what everyone else wore. Nobody wants to be the girl who wears clothes her Mom sewed for her! Then we found a few stores in the big mall an hour away that carried fashionable stuff in her size. Today even that was an epic FAIL. We did eventually find enough to get her by but I felt so defeated and I know she was pissed. On a positive note, she did find a beautiful dress for Homecoming. She looks so pretty in it but I know that she doesn’t feel as pretty as she really is and should feel at this age.

I can’t help but feel like it is my fault. I was responsible for the food in the house and what she ate. I didn’t make her exercise or stick with a sport. I kept telling her it was okay and she was fine when she clearly wasn’t. I wanted her to have a good self image. But instead I fed her a lie. Now it has gotten to the point where she has been in denial about it and it is affecting her health. I know she wants to fix it. I know it is serious and she won’t be able to do it alone. I also know it will take some serious tough love on my part to help her achieve what needs to be done. I’m not feeling up to it right now but I know I don’t have a choice.

Any resources or advice internet? Especially anything geared specifically toward teens?

**This post will probably be made “personal/private” very soon to try to preserve some semblance of dignity for my girls. I just have to put it out there for my sanity.

Yesterday I took Sarah to her babysitting job in Geneva and she was a little early. (She works for a local agency that holds a single-mothers support group at a church once a week. I figure seeing what young single mothers deal with on a weekly basis is about the best teen pregnancy prevention out there.) We walked around town and got some Starbucks to kill some time. We were sitting on a bench and I was absently watching a young mother with her adorable toddler walk down the other side of the street. The mom was pointing out things and the little girl was stopping and watching bugs and stuff like kids of that age tend to do. I looked away to say something to Sarah when suddenly my attention was drawn back to them as they reached the intersection. The little girl just dashed out into the cross-walk right in front of a minivan. I did that reflexive Mommy Gasp as the mother quickly grabbed her charge and whisked her to safety. Luckily it was a corner that even though it isn’t a 4-way stop most people approaching it from the non-stop direction at least slow down and the van stopped in plenty of time to avoid a tragedy.

That is just one small reason why I’m glad my girls aren’t that age anymore. If you hadn’t already figured it out, I am the mother of teens. Sarah will be 16 in early October so I am right in the meaty thick of teen-dom. Emma is 12 and is right on the cusp of the technically teen years but anyone who has spent more than 5 minutes with a 12 year old girl will know that it is all just a number. And guess what? It really isn’t all that bad. When babies are born and all through those wee years we mothers are constantly admonished to “enjoy it while it lasts” and “they grow up so fast” and “before you know it she will be a teenager *shudder*” etc. etc. While all that is true I must confess that many times I said to myself that I wish they would hurry up already and just grow up!

If I could slow the clock down now I would. I love these years. I enjoy being around teens (even other people’s teens! I know, right?) When the girls were younger I have to say I didn’t really like being around other people’s kids. I always did my duty volunteering in the church nursery and hosting play groups but I never enjoyed it. I don’t miss having a baby around. My now absent uterus never puckered when I saw a new baby. The end of my child-bearing years didn’t send me into a depressive tail-spin. (Lord knows I had enough other crap doing that for me!) But now I don’t mind being the house that hosts the pool parties, after-show cast parties, Girl Scout campouts and being the general hang out place. Teens are funny and very entertaining. Maybe because I can’t really remember much about being 5 but I certainly remember a lot about being 15 that I can just relate and understand them so much more. A few of the now teens that are hanging around I’ve know since they were in elementary school and it is really interesting to see who they are becoming. The boy who was obsessed with pandas has grown into a very polite young man with a smart sense of humor. The girl with the uncontrollable giggles and constant chatterbox has grown into a bit of an emo/goth girl with a heart of gold. The only ones that annoy me are the rude ones (luckily not many of those because my kids hate rude people as much as I do) and the ones that can’t communicate. I understand being shy, especially around someone’s parents for the first time, but if you’ve known me for 5 years and I speak to you and ask you polite questions at least try to answer me in complete sentences. But for the most part my kids’ friends are smart, funny, outgoing and friendly people that I enjoy having around. (Talk to me again in a year or two when they start dating, my opinion may change.)

Maybe it is just because I am inherently lazy but I’ve relished every step toward independence my children have taken. They now are expected to be able to feed themselves if necessary, do their own laundry, and put themselves to bed at a reasonable time. If they don’t they will be hungry, dirty and tired and it won’t be my damn fault and I don’t want to hear them bitch. (I confess I have failed with the housekeeping part of their upbringing and I apologize right here publicly to all their future college roommates, hotel maids and possible live in lovers.)

Sarah has her driver’s permit and will get her license in late October or early November. Am I worried? Am I nervous? Yes, I’m crazy but not insane. I know she is a good driver as far as young first time drivers go. She’s always been very mature and responsible. But she is inexperienced. Plus there is the added factor of the other stupid drivers on the road with her. I don’t know how many times around here that I’ve almost bit it because of other idiots doing stupid things. And either by the grace of God or my own fast reactions, I’ve avoided tragedy. All I can do is hope that she will have the same luck when she takes to the road alone.

I just look at it all like this. I was given a job by the universe when I was blessed with the job of being a Mother to these two precious girls. I put everything I had into it for over 16 years now. I started when I decided to try to get pregnant in the first place. I had very severe endometriosis and getting pregnant wasn’t a walk in the park for me. (It wasn’t even a simple roll in the hay but I won’t go there.) It took us about 3 years to get pregnant both times. I breastfed, read all the right books, bought organic cotton clothes when they were hard to find, used cloth diapers, read to them all the classics and then some, homeschooled Sarah until 2nd grade, balanced lessons and structured activities with down time so they could just be kids. I even limited tv time in the early years so much so that to this day neither of them are all that into wasting time watching tv. (Just try taking away their laptops though…) I had a job to do and I’m almost done with it. My ultimate responsibility was to grow responsible young adults that can function without me. They can think for themselves and take responsibility for their actions and the consequences. I’ve also cultivated a relationship with them so that over the years we have maintained mutual respect. That is why I don’t worry about them growing up and leaving me. That is what they are supposed to do.

Hopefully I won’t have to eat my words someday when one of them moves back in with me with her 3 year old twins and meth-addicted boyfriend while the other moves to the other side of the world and won’t come home for holidays because she feels that I didn’t love her enough and always preferred the dogs over her. But a mother does the best she can and hopes for the best.