Over the weekend, the girl asked me to take her to the Metropolitan Museum of Art so she could sketch in the Greek/Roman sculpture galleries. Yes, where all of the people are naked and most of the men have had their penises lopped off. She's 10. Oy.
But I'm a good mother and I like to encourage trips to museums.
We wandered through other bits of the museum too. There was a cool exhibit of mid-century Venetian glass, where we both took a lot of close-up phone photos until a guard chastised us. And we were both decidedly unimpressed with the jewelry show. Would you wear that? No, would you? And somehow, we ended up in a gallery with a fistful of Georgia O'Keefe paintings. Being the subversive mom, I decided I had to mention that many people think many of O'Keefe's paintings look like...yeah. Her response? I know.
It's a funny age. On the one hand: I WANT TO GROW UP. On the other hand: I'm still a little girl. We wobble-wobble between the two.
Hmm, yes they do. We'll have to go get you some deodorant.
She's now applying antiperspirant three times a day, even though I keep telling her once a day is more than sufficient.
Tonight I navigated her through the minefield that is texting, this time a group text that got completely out of hand. Delete me. I HATE YOU. Part of the problem is that the children, for they are still children, haven't any idea how to deal with a group text. No one wanted it to continue, but they all kept saying "delete me", "I deleted this message", "stop texting me" - which meant that it kept going and going and going. And then, there were hurt feelings, not unwarranted, but oh the drama.
I am glad, though, that she texted me (and only me) and told me it makes me feel really bad / I don't like that feeling and wanted to know when I'd be home. We had a good heart to heart about kids and relationships and what other people might be feeling and why group texts and reply-all are often misused.
And then, later in the evening, as she was tidying up before bed, she piped up with I think me and (BFF) are the only girls in fifth grade who like dolls. The other girls, they're trying to grow up too fast.
It's a goddamned roller coaster is what it is.
We're riding that train too. Except that The Offspring doesn't have a texting machine yet, and doesn't want to use the deodorant I bought him.
I have a 15-year-old boy and a 12-year-old boy, and I am sort of enjoying and sort of not-enjoying the growing up. I predict I am going to have the hardest time with my girl, though, who is now 8.
Too, too familiar. Wear your seatbelt.
I am so, so glad I brought my kids up in the pre-cellphone world. But they always have tried to grow up too fast, many of them. It reminds me of watching rockets launch.
Your daughter seems like a very, very cool girl. I so get what you're saying here though. This is such a funny age because they're partly getting so grown up and they're partly still little boys and girls. It's a trip.
"it makes me feel really bad / I don't like that feeling"
Ohhhhh, I identify with that feeling from my own youth (and adulthood) and almost got a little teary for your girl there.
Tough years, indeed. But you're equipping her with the skills to ultimately figure it all out.
Clearly she's a little more sophisticated than my daughter, who termed the Contemporary room at the National Gallery the 'naked and scary' section. You're right, it's a tricky path to navigate. She was ridiculously excited about wearing deodorant. Once she sobbed "am I crying about puberty BECAUSE OF PUBERTY right now?" Sigh.
Yes, it is a roller coaster.
I have had to spank a couple of people at work about group texts. We need to make texting etiquette plain-a group text is like a group email--don't reply all.