Pumpkin Pie

Today I become the parent of a teenager.  What?  No!  How did this happen?? (Ok, I know how this happened and I’m NOT telling you that story.  You’re welcome.)  But how can I have a teenager?!?!?!

IP and I tried everything we could to stop this from happening.

We asked her nicely.  “Please stop growing up so fast.”  (She only smiled at me.  Trying to fight nice with nice.  I’ll show her.)

We tried being discouraging.  “You don’t want to grow up.  Responsibility sucks!”  (She rolled her eyes and said ‘whatevs.’  ~Sidebar~ What is it with kids shortening words?  That -er fought long and hard to be included in your snotty whatever eyeroll.  Give it the respect it deserves.)

Finally, we just gave a direct order.  “We had a meeting and decided that you are not allowed to become a teenager.  We decided that on your birthday, you will go back to 11.  You were nice at eleven.  Cute, with less attitude.”  (She made a face at me….see…attitude…)

Despite our best effort, our sweet little pumpkin pie, our first-born, turns 13 today.  In honor of my baby doll, I would like to take this opportunity to introduce you to the amazing Paige.

First and foremost, Paige is a mini-me.  The first thing people say when they meet us is, “Wow!  She looks just like you!”  To which I reply, “I definitely know I was given the right child.  There will be no knock on my door from a hospital official, offering us a check and an apology.”

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The most frustrating thing about having a mini-me is trying to raise yourself.  When you share the same looks, the same demeanor, and the same mannerisms, you also share the same stubbornness, attitude, and feistiness.  Which basically means I’m raising myself….

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The upside is I get to be a kid again and experience all the joy of the world through her eyes, which isn’t a bad thing and keeps me young at heart.

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Paige has an unnatural obsession with One Direction.  (Ahhh, boy bands.  Like Mother, Like daughter.  See https://kerrysorganizedchaos.wordpress.com/2012/11/05/history-repeats-itself/)   Along with the constant 1D music, begging for new posters, and being inundated with daily new facts about these British boys, a few months ago, I awoke to this notification on my phone.

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Thank you Paige and iCloud for keeping me in the loop.  I don’t know if I could have gone on without know that!

Paige once accused me of only having children so I could make her vacuum, to which I replied, “You’ve got me.  I went through 9 months of pregnancy, labor and delivery, all the diapers, the toddler phase, and everything since, so I could get maybe 10 years of vacuuming out of you.  I’m crazy like that!”  (Did I mention my daughter is sarcastic?  I wonder where she got that from?)

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Despite the complaining, Paige has become this awesomely responsible young lady.  The other day she made herself french toast AND cleaned up after herself!!!

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She also reads and studies without being asked!!!  (Trust me, there were days I never thought we’d get here.)

Paige’s nickname around the house is Messy Martha, and boy has she earned that name.  This is a common sighting in our house.

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How did she get the caramel all the way up there?  I mean I can see the upper lip, but the forehead?!?!  Oh Paige.  And despite having a neat-freak, OCD mother, this is what Paige considers a clean room.  Apparently, the DNA replication missed a gene….  

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I just broke out in hives looking at this picture.  On Saturdays I make her clean it to my standards.  It looks like this again shortly after she finishes.  I think she has Oompa Loompas hiding under her bed that help her mess it back up.  Luckily, the days that aren’t Saturday, I take the advice of my wise mother and close the door.

The good news is, we like her and I think we’ll keep her around for a while.  At least as long as we are getting some good chores out of her.  I mean it IS the reason we had her after all 😉

Stubborn, determined, smart, hardworking….

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Funny, crazy, wacky, sarcastic….

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Kind, caring, nurturing, loving….

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Pumpkin Pie, Directioner, Messy Martha, Mini-Me…

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You can all her whatevs you want, I just know I am lucky and privileged to be able to be called her mom.

Happy 13th Birthday Paige!

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Love, Mom

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OMJ???

As I’ve mentioned before, I loathe text lingo.  My pre-teen-nearly teen-don’t remind me how old she’s getting daughter is rambling on about something of major importance in the seventh grade world.  I’m half listening, half making my mental list of evening activities when I hear her  saying, “OMJ!  OMJ!”

“OMJ?  Paige, it’s OMG,” I say as I shake off that disgusting slimy feeling from actually having to have vocalized OMG.

“No mom, I meant OMJ.  It’s better than OMG!

Not wanting to miss out on the newest coolness and knowing the importance of keeping up with what the kids are doing these day, I bite and ask, “Awesome Paige!  What does OMJ stand for then?”

Oh My Golly!!”, she says, smiling proudly of her witty creation.

“Um, ok….Honey….that’s still OMG.”  Dammit, why must I having to use lingo. Make it stop.

May beautiful daughter rolls her eyes at me.  “NOOOOO!  I said Oh My Golly… it’s O-M-J!”

“Noooo…Golly is G-O-L-L-Y.  Still OMG.”

“NOOOO!  Oh My Golly is O-M-J….whatever the other letters you said.”

OMJ…what am I going to do with this girl???

It’s happened already

My daughter turned 12 just a few weeks ago and the unthinkable happened… I got dumber.  I knew it would happen.  I had hoped that maybe my sweet, innocent baby would skip the “my parents are so stupid” phase, but I was only kidding myself, for I too was once in her shoes.  My parents used to have a sign on the fridge that said …. GET OUT NOW WHILE YOU STILL KNOW EVERYTHING!   My brother and I mocked them and their lame sign.  Stupid parents think they are sooooo funny!  Then I moved out and darn it if they didn’t get instantly smarter!

I saw the warning signs about a year ago.  The dramatic “and then she said, and then I said” conversations started occurring.  The long drawn out stories about who wronged who and who wasn’t friends with who this week.  And the huffing and stomping… OH that huffing and stomping.  When that itty-bitty little word that starts with an N and ends with an O is muttered, all around had better take cover.  Overly dramatic sighing and huffing, followed by stomping away and pouting.

Why???  Why so early???  I knew I would have teenage girl dramatics.  I had hoped they would hold off for a while longer.  I worked to hard with her all those early years to be this stupid already!  Please, someone wake me up in about 10 years when I’ll be smart again!