Are you there God, it's me Margaret...
Oh Lord! Remember that? Well there's a whole lot of that going on around here. We've had several period talks around here the last several months. Too many. And did I say it? Yep. I did. "You're becoming a woman." Seriously? Wrong.
And just so you know African-American girls begin puberty much earlier than other girls. Nice. Like she doesn't have enough going on. GEEZ.
I have way too many pre-adolescents around here. If we're not talking periods, we're discussing the importance of deodorant or debating if ProActiv is the best acne treatment.
I taught someone how to shave the inch long hair on their armpits this week by demonstrating down, down, downward strokes, never sideways, never up and down. Down Down Down. Soap and water. Shaving cream if you must.
I've had friends calling saying, "Did *J* start her period? She told everyone at soccer that she did..."
And my reply? "No. They said your daughter had..."
"Well, that's news to me..."
Really? Ladies, it's not that great. I promise.
I don't enjoy this. I don't like it one bit. I think my own experience was so awkward, humiliating and uncomfortable. I opened a box of maxi pads at my 10th birthday party, wrapped like a gift, in front of mixed company. I think my view of this whole experience is tainted. Of course, I have no qualms with telling you that story now, on the internet, so clearly I've gotten over it.
I guess I'm as ready as they are... just so I can stop talking about it. Oh right? I still get to do this again with Justine in a year or two ... CRAP.
I'm a better mom to boys, I promise. Their discussions have been quite simple and to the point. I will keep that bit of advice to myself, but I think you can imagine what it was.