Not as in the ointment, but as in the child. The child who is not a child but not an adult. This child who looks like a woman but acts like an alien. The child who is one part young lady and 6 parts multi-headed monster.
Many people have posted and talked about their teenage girls and I’ve read about and heard it all. So I thought I was prepared for adolescence, I could handle it LIKE A BOSS. But now as I sit here making a case for hormone replacement therapy for my pre-menopausal self, my oldest wants to discuss birth control with her doctor. As I begin to embrace my withering femininity, she is blooming full flower into it.
And nothing, and I mean nothing prepares you for when your Sybil like teenager tells you she wants to talk to the pediatrician about birth control. I mean, THE PEDIATRICIAN! She’s still a baby right? She’s still learning to sit up tall and eat with her mouth closed and dress her damn self. She’s still a little girl playing with horses in the stable who likes to cuddle at night on the couch and tell me her dreams. She’s not old enough to THINK about THAT let alone do THAT. And I am in no way prepared to have these conversations and do this right now.
But you know what? As I look around at the snot nosed, crying,attention sucking babies and toddlers in the waiting room the one thing I do know is that I do NOT want to be a grandmother right now. So I guess I’ll slap on some preparation H and do this.