Kids Archives - The Twisted Maven

Nobody Told Me

“Real knowledge is to know the extent of one’s ignorance” – Confucius

There were so many things I didn’t know intuitively about doing this adult thing, and now that I’ve experienced a great deal of them, I find myself wishing I still didn’t know about some of them. While adding years to your life can bring some wonderful moments, increased wisdom, and additional inner peace, there are definitely some things that have happened along the way that have given me pause. And I don’t mean menopause.

I put the following question out to the universe recently: what weren’t you told about being an adult, that you wish someone, anyone, had prepared your for? The responses I received were equally humorous, poignant, thought-provoking and heartbreaking.

So let’s break it down, shall we?

General Adulting:

There are no “How To Grownup” preparatory classes in high school or college. When you’re growing up, you think Adulthood is this fantastic party where you can do WHATEVER you want, WHENEVER you want.

I remember a conversation with my college BFF during our Senior year; we were both like, wow, it will be great when we graduate and can get jobs and pay for stuff and don’t have to go to class and eat bologna sandwiches on stale bread and drink cheap beer. And that’s what we did; we exchanged late nights for early mornings, rent for mortgages, internships for careers, and the single life to looking around asking ourselves, when did THIS (careers, houses, spouses, kids, MINIVANS) all happen?

When you become an adult, you need to figure out, and do, ALL the things. You need to work out things such as how to manage your time and finances, how to socialize, how to advance your career, how to clean and cook and, you know, grown-up things.

If you own a car, you have to pay attention to maintenance and repairs. Blowing up your car engine, because you didn’t realize those oil change reminders actually meant something, is a really expensive lesson to learn.

The same goes for home ownership. I heard from people who were just astounded at the amount of time and expense that goes into simple maintenance, let alone anything extra. This is definitely an area that I was naive about, to the point of immense regret of thinking I could be solely responsible for the upkeep and maintenance of an actual building and the land associated with it. The fact that the inside of my house generally looks like the aftermath of Armageddon is a consequence of kids and time/space management, and can be remedied relatively quickly. However, the faded front door color, the weed (not the good kind) garden I’ve nurtured via complete disregard, the kitchen drawers that stick, and the cobwebs that accumulate in the corners…just ugh.

Another thread of comments I received was about expectations vs. reality. The fact that a college degree does not, in fact, guarantee a person a decent income. Which is a double whammy when one has put themselves into a decade or two of student loan debt. Growing apart from friends that you thought would always be in your day-to-day existence. The wish that one had been encouraged to follow their heart, their dreams and their passions, instead of trying to conform to societal expectations. The realization that upon reaching adulthood, one does not, in fact, automatically get their shit together.

And then there’s the good things people didn’t know; like when you say “no” and nobody kills or even hates you, and you finally understand that that one word is an acceptable and absolute answer to many questions in life. Another one is the realization that it is reasonable and even respectable to re-invent yourself, start over, ask for a re-do; because life does not have to be the same-old, same-old once you turn 30, 50, 75, or beyond.

Marriage and Romantic Relationships:

Most of what I heard is that nobody tells you how freaking HARD it is to be married. That people change over time, and what may have brought two people together in their 20’s (or at any age) has absolutely no bearing on or relevance to who those two people are in their 30’s, 40’s, and beyond. The stressors, that no one thinks of when they’re planning their wedding, take so many people by surprise. Whether it’s having kids, having difficulty or not being able to have kids, one partner not wanting kids while the other wants them more than anything, career changes, leaving the workforce, relocation, or change of financial status, the list of potential big changes and challenges to a married couple goes on and on and on. There have been those couples who struggled and ultimately split up, those who have struggled and stayed together, those who have found true happiness the second time around, those who have lost their spouses to disease or accidents before they were ready, those who truly have never met their match, and those who have decided that marriage or other long-term relationships are just not for them.

A sub-topic of this that I got input about, that is even more complicated, is abusive relationships. Even the realization that one is in an abusive relationship can be astoundingly difficult to accept. I lack the expertise to weigh in on this topic, but I believe the person who stated that an abuser won’t change.

Pregnancy, Childbirth, and Post-Childbirth:

The farting. This definitely caught me by surprise, and I’m not the only one.

Hemorrhoids. As one friend put it, they’re not very funny when they’re attached to YOUR asshole.

The distraction. My squirrel brain, formerly rather orderly, came out full force when I was pregnant, and has never quite returned to it’s former calm sta-crap, I forgot to make lunches again. Is there any clean laundry? Where are my glasses? What is that smell?

Many women (and men) were not totally prepared for childbirth. When there is SO MUCH information out there, how is that even possible? My guess is that one can gather as much knowledge as humanly possible about every single kind of birth scenario, but our brains aren’t capable of preparing us for every single kind of birth scenario. This is why so many expectant parents make birth plans. We WANT things to be orderly and we WANT to be in control. And with giving birth, truly, anything can happen. How many of you, or friends of yours, have had emergency C-sections? Or were in active labor for hours and hours and hours, and then more hours? Almost gave birth before getting to the hospital or before the doctor, midwife, or doula arrived?

Personally, I was fortunate in that the events of birthing my two babies were relatively easy, albeit wildly different. One baby plodded out of my uterus on her own time, in an event that was calm, relatively pain-free (once I got that epidural!) and exactly as planned, but it seemed to take forever (okay, don’t hate me, but it was really only a matter of a few hours). My second baby arrived as many days early as her sister arrived late, and her arrival was more like Jack Nicholson’s character in The Shining, making her entrance by bursting through and nearly demolishing the doorway, scaring the shit out of everybody, and leaving a bloody mess in her wake. But at least it was over quickly.

One of the biggest surprises of giving birth for some was the fact that they pushed out something extra along with a baby. For those of you who don’t know because you haven’t forced an entire human out your bajingo…just think about it for a sec. The birther is exerting herself beyond anything otherwise reasonable, and the entirety of her digestive system has been squished into any available space around this tiny human’s incubator. So, yeah, poop can, and does, happen.

One friend chose to tell me about it via a direct message. On which she inadvertently cc’d her daughter, the one who caused the birth poop. When my friend realized her mistake and was OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD-ing, I was literally on the floor, howling with laughter, and the Birth Poop daughter was completely nonplussed. My hope is that now she’ll be better prepared for childbirth that her mom was, should she ever find herself in that situation.

The fact that sneezing (or coughing, or jumping, or any sudden movements) are never quite conducted after giving birth (or after a woman turns 40, whichever comes first) without a moment of self-check in, and sometimes an awkward knees-and-thighs-squeezed-together sprint to the bathroom.

Parenting:

The input I got about this category was wide-ranging and substantial, so I’ve made a few sub-categories. Except the two categories which are Sleep and Going to the Bathroom Alone. Neither of those things happen once you give birth. They know and they will find you, in your deepest dreams or your most urgent need to use the toilet, with something absolutely earth shattering, like “Hi Mama, watcha doin?” or “Ma! Whats for dinner?”.

Parenting Little Boys: They pee everywhere. Except into the toilet. They feel the need to stretch their penises like taffy when they are toddlers. Boy pee has been sniffed out, felt, and cleaned up from the most unlikeliest of places

Parenting Little Girls: They scream a lot. Like a LOT a lot. And a lot of time is spent teaching daughters how to wipe themselves front to back (aka, don’t sweep the dirt back into the kitchen).

Parenting Bigger Boys: They still pee everywhere. And they can make you angrier than you ever thought possible. And can also make you prouder than you ever thought you could be.

Parenting Bigger Girls: They still scream a lot. And they can also make you angrier than you ever thought possible. And after the screaming is done, there are those hugs and tears as you pull them close and never want to let them go.

General Parenting (for all ages):

There is a LOT of guilt and fear.

Every stupid and inappropriate thing we say is repeated by our littles, usually at the worst moments possible. Like quoted verbatim, in front of my mother.

We all have moments when we realize that we have totally lost our former selves, and we decide to do something about that, or not.

We feel totally stupid trying to help with math homework.

We feel judged, no matter our situation. If you’re a SAHM, you feel the shade your working sisters are throwing your way; if you are a working mother, you feel the side-eye directed at you from the SAHMs because you aren’t involved enough with your kids’ school and extra-curricular activities (sidenote: those feelings of being judged are likely all in your head; most of the moms I know feel judged, but don’t judge).

You’ve felt real anger about a child that you know only by name whom you are convinced is tormenting your child. But then, you also wonder if you are doing enough to raise your child to be compassionate and kind, because what if they aren’t?

And oh…those times when you’re not sure if you’re cut out for this parenting gig, you’re not sure if you love them enough…and they do something that brings you to your knees with gratitude and the knowledge that yes, you are enough.

Aging/Getting Older:

Another category that I received a ton of feedback on. So here goes:

You reach the point where hangovers last days instead of hours.

You realize how dysfunctional your upbringing actually was.

You come to the painful understanding that adulthood can be extremely lonely.

You mentally still feel like you’ve barely graduated college, and here you are trying to work and spouse and parent, and you are wondering who actually thought it was a good idea for you to be trusted with this level of responsibility.

You have little or no tolerance for anyone’s bullshit, and you finally shed the expectations you thought were foisted upon you. And if it affects your friendships or family relationships, so be it.

Acknowledging not only the “firsts” but the “lasts”. As in, this is the last year in my 40’s. This is the last time I’m going to drop my kid off at elementary school. This is the last mortgage payment I’m going to make. This is the last year my child is going to believe in Santa Claus.

Aging in general comes with no manual. Injuries and inconveniences earlier in your life can come back with significant and limiting consequences. You may feel like you’re 35, but one look in the mirror tells you a very different story. Staring at your reflection and thinking that you look tired, and then realizing that this is just your look now (raises hand).

Having the responsibility of caring for and/or about your aging parents or grandparents. There is no tried-and-true guidance for making the tough decisions or dealing with inevitable declines that happen as our parents and grandparents grow old.

So there it is. Some of it, anyway. As for myself, I may never get this whole being a grownup thing totally nailed down, but it’s not for a lack of trying. And when I put my question out to the universe, I was amazed and encouraged by how many people experience the same thoughts and feelings.

So what about you? What resonated with you, and what can you tell me that no one told you about? Please feel free to leave a comment! And if you liked this post, please share!

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

© The Twisted Maven, 2019

Serendipity.

“Serendipity: the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for” – Merriam-Webster Dictionary

Sure, I have written a bit about the dissolution of my former career. And I can say with confidence, that yes, I am definitely happier now than I was during the majority of that 20+ year consulting career. However, the separation from that career, and from my last job in that career, was not without significant cost and a lot of feelings.

Maybe I’ll detail all those feelings and costs in a future post, but for now, suffice to say that the loss of my job, the loss of a schedule, the loss of income, the loss of status as a full-time working parent was a pretty big blow to my psyche.

But amidst my floundering and existential crisising and organizing and napping and stay-at-home momming, there have been all these “and then…” moments that can only be described as serendipity. For example, I wasn’t looking to work with kids, I didn’t have a burning desire to coach anything, I wasn’t dying to make connections within my community…and then…

Serendipity happened, because Girls on the Run happened.

Three years ago, I started my first season as a coach for Girls on the Run in my community. We were one of four pilot programs for the newly formed Girls on the Run of Greater Hartford council.

To say I was nervous at the outset is an understatement. I’d never coached a team before. I’d never spent much time with tween girls. I didn’t know the two women I’d be coaching with, although between the two of them, they seemed to be friends with EVERYONE in our small town, a fact that my reticent and introverted self found intimidating. I didn’t consider myself capable of being inspirational, garnering respect or demonstrating strength. I mean, I’d just flunked out of my career, for shits’s sake! Oh, and I swear a lot.

Within the first few weeks, my apprehension turned to excitement and anticipation, which eventually evolved into confidence and appreciation and joy. The lessons that Girls on the Run strives to teach are so spot on with this age group, and these girls REALLY got it. And my co-coaches? They were simply amazing women whom I quickly came to view as friends, and continue to do so. The same goes for every single other person I’ve had the pleasure to coach with since that first season.

You see, the Girls on the Run program isn’t just about running. That first season, and every season since, we played games and set goals and ran, jogged, or walked laps. We had serious conversations about peer pressure, teamwork, support, strength, friendship and a lot of other issues that are helpful to girls in this stage of their lives. I was amazed by the depth and maturity of their thoughts and responses to some complex issues that they have dealt with or will deal with down the road. I also enjoyed their silliness and goofing around and the way kids just act like kids, with their lack of filters, their loudness and their laughter.

As it turns out, I really enjoy being around kids. Sharing the Girls on the Run lessons with the teams I coached was such a privilege. I was not only imparting some really useful knowledge to these girls, but I was also reinforcing and applying the concepts in my own life. And I found that I am certainly able to communicate with kids without using curse words. Woot!

And then…

After three years and six seasons as a Coach for Girls on the Run, I am now the Program Coordinator for Girls on the Run of Greater Hartford. With this position, I’ve been able to meld the management, organizational and mentoring capabilities I’d gained in my previous career with my knowledge of the Girls on the Run program and my desire to make the world a better place by helping women and girls feel confident, connected, capable, and empowered.

So, serendipity. I wasn’t looking for Girls on the Run, but we found each other, and we have both benefited. I say that statement as a humble truth, without caveats or qualifications. And now it’s time to send the message, as far and wide as I can, why I am, and will continue to be, so passionate about Girls on the Run:

Because I could have totally benefited from a program like this when I was in elementary and middle school. And I have heard the same exact thing from SO MANY other women who learn about Girls on the Run!
Because research and statistics demonstrate that Girls on the Run provides positive messages and boosts academic and social success for girls.
Because my ability to communicate with my daughters has improved after we all participated in the program.
Because I have witnessed how Girls on the Run can increase not only physical fitness, but also confidence, compassion, and teamwork.
Because Girls on the Run is an inclusive program for girls; no matter their financial status, ethnicity, geographic location, disabilities, sexual orientation or athleticism. This program is for EVERY GIRL.
Because I have been gifted with so many moments that have brought me to tears and cheers, due to the unifying, strengthening and amazing things that happen with and between Girls on the Run participants, even extending beyond practices and teams.
Because being a Girls on the Run coach has positively influenced my own life. It’s boosted my self-esteem, social abilities, and my connection to my community.
Because parent feedback has been overwhelmingly positive, and parents and girls are truly learning better ways to communicate with each other.
Because the teams are able to transcend cliques and grade groups, girls are able make friends who will support each other beyond the program.
Because there’s nothing better than a girl who is confident, compassionate, connected to her community, and believes she is capable of anything!

So there’s my tale of serendipity; what’s yours? Have you ever just found yourself taking a moment and appreciating something that you weren’t necessarily seeking, but that has brought you great joy?

If you’d like to learn more about Girls on the Run Greater Hartford, including how to become a volunteer or bring a site to your community, click here. And if you’re outside of the Greater Hartford, CT area and would like to learn more about Girls on the Run, including coaching and/or bringing a team to your area, click here.

Please comment below or send me an email, I’d love to hear from you about your serendipitous moments, your experience with or questions about Girls on the Run, and anything you’d like to see in future posts! And if you like what you’ve read, please share!

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

©The Twisted Maven, 2019

The Time When My Baby Turned Ten

Ten seems to be the magical age, when your children are more formed than unformed…

“There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

How is it that, having put a space of four years between my children, it seems that the milestones are occurring ever closer together? It feels like years, but also minutes, since I wrote about my oldest turning ten. That particular piece has been lost to the wind, maybe never to be retrieved. But in this case, it doesn’t matter, because my words to L the Younger don’t apply to L the Older, and vice versa.

Ten seems to be the magical age, when your children are more formed than unformed, and you can see glimpses of what their adult selves will be like, should everything go according to plan. I mean, nothing ever goes exactly according to plan, but you know what I mean. You can definitely sense who they are, in a larger sense.

My older girl, my ladybug, she has always been mature and not here for any bullshit. She is the kid who couldn’t wait to turn ten, then 13, now she’s 14 and in high school and I swear she’d skip right to college and beyond if she had the choice. Her personality was largely formed by the age of four, and I recognized then that her reticence, her determination that things were solidly either RIGHT or WRONG, and her ability to sense and absorb the thoughts and emotions of those around her would serve her well as she grew into adolescence and adulthood. I still feel that way. But navigating these teen years…well, that’s another post for another day, when I’m able to speak from a place of calm perspective. And that’s definitely not today.

But oh…my second child. My butterfly, who will extend affection to anyone who needs it, who only wants to see you smile, who wants to hug the world, who also easily absorbs the thoughts and emotions of those around her, but uses that gift very differently from her sister. Instead of using her sensitivity to lead, guide and advise, she uses it to comfort and humor those around her. She’s got charisma for days, along with a great capacity for love, a goofy sense of humor, and the desire to leave everyone she encounters a little bit happier than they were before.

However, she also wants what she wants exactly when she wants it, has no sense of time or urgency, and does not deal well with raised voices or even mildly harsh words.

She’s the emotional gauge of our household. If there’s any tension, she picks up on it, feels it acutely, and will act out because of it. If there’s joy, she embraces it wholeheartedly. If there’s anger, she gets sullen. If there is laughter, she’s right there in the middle of it. And she mostly does this without any knowledge of the context of these emotions.

She knows when I’m hurting, emotionally and/or physically, no matter my attempts to conceal that from her. Without fail, those are the moments that she comes to me with hugs, an invitation to read with her, and the need to be physically close to me.

She engages me in conversation, and always, and I mean ALWAYS, wants to talk about what’s going on in her world. School, American Ninja Warrior, Harry Potter, and America’s Got Talent are her favorite topics of discussion. Somehow, she makes these conversations engaging and analytical, as well as never-ending.

She is also an enthusiastic participant in activities outside of academics. She started playing the flute last year, and practices almost daily without being told. Sidenote: when her sister started taking guitar lessons, there was a demand that she stick to a practice schedule, and consequences when she didn’t. And lo and behold, she lost the desire to practice and her love for the instrument. So when L the Younger started with the flute, I let her set her practice schedule, and her love for music and the desire to improve has come along naturally. Lesson learned.

She just started her 5th season of Girls on the Run, which is also the first season that I haven’t been a coach. And by all reports, she is doing amazing, and likely much better than she was when I coached her team. She also loves basketball and lacrosse, mostly due to her sister’s influence, but I hope she embraces both of those sports going forward for herself.

Because she is my second-born, and because she’s still shorter than everyone else in my house, it’s sometimes a challenge not to think of her as a “little kid”, incapable of doing much of anything without my assistance. But, as she reminds me frequently, she is absolutely capable of doing many things without my assistance.

I can’t help but think, often, that I don’t deserve these two children to whom I gave birth to. I strive daily to be a good role model, a source of wisdom and comfort, and a good mom. I feel like they have outpaced me, already, in intelligence and in their desire to succeed in making the world a better place.

So to my “little” one, to my butterfly, to the one I wished for, for so long: these past 10 years have flown by, but I am grateful that I paused long enough to breathe in your baby moments, acknowledge the milestones that you’ve achieved thus far, had the ability to set a unsatisfactory career aside and participate more in your and your sister’s lives, and to show you what can be achieved when you follow your passions.

Also, I don’t want to put forth any platitudes about success, because they are mostly tied to monetary gain, and I want you to define for yourself what success looks like. I do hope, however, that success looks like exploring and finding what interests you, working hard, and being satisfied that you are a good human.

And lastly, thank you for all the love you give me, the challenges you throw my way, the time we spend together, your smarts, your chaos, your laughter, and for just being the best you that you can be.

I love you to the moon and back. Twice.

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe

The Twisted Maven

C’mon With Your Dinosaur and Unicorn Nonsense

“A gender-equal society would be one where ‘gender’ does not exist: where everyone can be themselves” – Gloria Steinhem

I wouldn’t define the subject of this post as a pet peeve, per se. It’s not a something that causes me constant ire, but rather, on the occasions when I encounter it, I do feel peevish. Affronted. Vexed. My eyes narrow, I shake my head, I sigh, throw my head back, and roll my eyeballs so hard they fall out of my head and down my back.

The subject? Graphic t-shirts for kids. YES, I know it may seem an absolutely ridiculous subject to get my panties in a twist about. But bear with me on this one.

I don’t spend a lot of time shopping for things at actual stores at this point in my life. When I had more money and time and less children and responsibilities, “shopping” was an actual activity that I participated in. Leisurely, at will, sometimes with purpose, but sometimes just for something to do.

Now, any shopping I do is predominantly focused on need, mostly under stress, and often with annoyance. 90% of my shopping is online, while the other 10% happens when I have to actually walk into into a store, seeking out something that is desperately needed (usually) by one of my spawn.

So, at the end of the school year, vacation happened. As it usually does, in the same location, and with the same needs and expectations. I could have inventoried my children’s wardrobes ahead of time, but I chose to delegate that responsibility to my children, along with the responsibility of letting me know what their perceived wardrobe needs were. Dummy me.

Two days into vacation, one daughter was lamenting her lack of bathing suit attire, while the other one had to borrow a swim shirt to cover her sunburned shoulders (go ahead, call me a crappy mom for not slathering my kids in SPF 500 sunscreen every 30 minutes. Also, eat shit, because I make some not-insignificant sacrifices to be able to provide my kids with two weeks of constant sunshine and activity and fun).

ANYWAY…all this to say is that I felt compelled to go shopping, because my kids needed some clothing, and since there was a huge outlet shopping complex nearby, off I went, with my older daughter in tow.

We dashed in and out of several stores, to no avail. I had already resigned myself to placing an on-line order for my teen, and then, I saw it, the store sign shining like a beacon: The Children’s Place.

If there were any store I’d be able to find something suitable (see what I did there?) for my young tween, this would be it. So in we went, trotting quickly around, looking for bathing suits.

After a minute or two, I started noticing something, once I realized that no swimwear was available. I slowed my pace and found myself looking back and forth, between this and that clothing bracket, this and that table, this and that display, my eyes widening.

Quick side note: I have two daughters, who love and/or loved unicorns, narwhals, dolls, legos, kittens, babies and matchbox cars. I have two daughters who play lacrosse and basketball. I have two daughters who excel in math and science, along with music and writing. I have two daughters who typically choose comfort over style when it comes to their clothing choices. I have two daughters who love to express their personalities through graphic t-shirts.

Still with me? Okay then. This is what I saw as my head was on a swivel:

Notice anything conspicuous? Absurd? Sexist?? If you say no, you’ll have to come here and say it to my face so that I may gently correct you, perhaps with a high five to your forehead. With a chair.

Boys clothing: orange, navy blue, red, green. With trucks and footballs and stripes and dinosaurs. And words like “power” and “victory” and “hustle” and “game”.

Girls clothing: pink, purple, light blue, rainbows. With hearts and unicorns and strawberries and kittens. And words like “love” and “beautiful” and “unicorn” (OMG sooooo many unicorns) and “perfect”.

I will admit, I dressed my daughters in the pinkest and purplest and floofiest of clothes when they were little. I didn’t even look at the other side of the aisle. It didn’t even occur to me, because the gender lines are drawn so clearly, starting with infant onesies.

It wasn’t until I did start to look across the aisle, when my oldest realized that the boys had some pretty rad shirts, that I realized how badly the clothing companies were screwing up. Girls like trucks and mud! Boys like music and horses! Girls like dinosaurs! Boys like reading books! Girls like navy blue! Boys like purple!

So who chose the definitions of identity with respect to children’s clothing? Where’s the inclusivity? Where’s the diversity? Because even if children aren’t told explicitly what boys and girls are “supposed” to like, according to the way clothing is categorized, kids are being sent messages about what their identity should be, one t-shirt at a time.

I let my Google fingers do some research, and I did find some positive results. L.L. Bean’s kid’s graphic t-shirts are nearly identical for both boys and girls. Land’s End is okay-ish. Old Navy is better than they used to be. But damn…I have called out The Children’s Place before, and I am doing it again now.

Here’s a suggestion for the clothing companies who are all over the graphic t-shirt game. How about you blend your displays in store, and not assign gender in your catalogs? Your targeted demographic(s) will no doubt respond enthusiastically about all of the options available to everyone.

Let’s enable our kids, and ourselves, the opportunity to express our likes, our hobbies, our passions, and our personalities as we wish. My child’s affinity for legos and skull designs and navy blue shirts should matter just as much as another child’s affinity for dancing, panda bears and purple shirts, regardless of gender.

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

Fare Thee Well!

Moving on from Middle School is the Best Thing Ever.

This celebration is but a few years away…

“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” – Seneca

An Open Letter to My Daughter Upon the End of Middle School That Probably Applies to a Lot of Kids This Age:

You did it, my dear. You made it through what most adults in our culture look back on and shiver with discomfort: The Middle School Years.

For most, 8th grade is/was the apex of awkwardness and angst. There’s these new gangly arms and legs that can cause a 13 year old to move like a newborn fawn, unsteady and with all limbs moving in different directions. Along with the feet and chins and noses that are suddenly out of proportion on everyone, the braces that make smiles look more like grimaces, and the dreaded acne breakouts.

And, oh…the daily embarrassment of simply existing. The absolute conviction that everything one says is unforgivably dumb and will be ridiculed in the most loud and public manner. The knowledge that everyone else is cool, confident and worry-free, so comfortable in their own skin, unconcerned about what anyone else says or thinks.

Guess what? Nearly everyone feels the same way, they just express it differently. Some try to shrink into the background, some try to overcompensate, some hide behind facades of their own construction, whether those facades project confidence, cruelty, or something in between.

Here’s what you may not realize; aside from all the super weird and challenging physical and emotional changes you’ve experienced, you have also learned a metric shitton. Yes, that’s a technical term, don’t question me.

Academically, you’ve effectively learned a second language; you’ve learned mathematical equations; you’ve learned about technology, history, grammar, science and well being. Your knowledge base is solid, and you will, going forward, build upon that base.

Socially, you’ve established a fluid base of friends. Friendships will wax and wane over the next few years, but you already know who is going to remain at your core, who has your back, who makes you laugh, who gets you, and vice versa.

Athletically, you have brought your game to a different level. You want to run, you want to bike, you want to play, and you want to compete. YOU were instrumental in your tourney games and getting your team to state championship. The players who tear up the field and score and play well offensively tend to get most of the glory, which is not undeserved. But you are bold and solid on defense, and I know that’s where you’re most comfortable. You play smart, you play physical, and watching you on the basketball court and lacrosse field brings me so much pride. You play with heart and ferocity. You didn’t learn that from me, it comes from within you, and it’s amazing.

I know you have your negative opinions about yourself, your struggles, your moments of anxiety and self-doubt. I know I will likely see less of you over the next few years, and you will share less with me, as you establish your confidants and social circle.

What you need to understand is that I am bound and determined to see you through to adulthood, and to make sure you are happy, safe, kind, productive and secure in the knowledge that you are loved. I have told you that this is my mission since you were a little child, and I mean even more now than I did then.

I make a lot of mistakes, every freaking day. I try to own them, with the thought that I am leading by example. What I won’t do, is apologize for who I am, in any given moment, which is also what I want to pass along to you. This lack of remorse on my part basically means that the sooner you accept and embrace me, the fewer struggles we will have. Just let me hug you every once in a while, okay? I know I’m uncool and dorky and embarrassing, and I’m okay with that.

So you can roll your eyes when I tell you I love you, you can make fun of me about all the things you think I don’t know. You can think and say out loud that I’m old and I understand nothing. But I’ll also be here to surprise you with the things I DO know; so when you snicker at some small reference and I ask you, “What?”, don’t assume it’s because I don’t understand…I’m testing you, to see if YOU understand.

But when it comes down to it, I know what I need to know. I know I birthed not one, but two future legends. I know you have great potential for success, as long as you don’t trip yourself up. Even if you do stumble, you can rise with the knowledge that I am always here and always have your back.

Also, because I need to include this in every single conversation we have, even if I’m the only one talking: you need to be nicer to your sister. She is your biggest supporter and most enthusiastic cheerleader. She takes whatever you say as solid truth, over anything I might say or do to convince her otherwise. So choose your words carefully, and understand your power to influence.

Lastly, I’m proud of you. I know you feel like middle school kind of sucked, but I hope you will hold onto the good memories that you made while there. You had some outstanding teachers who helped you ignite your desire to learn and excel academically. You achieved great things athletically as well.

The onset of the teen years is super not fun for either the teens or the parents, but I hope you know that I’m doing my best to navigate this territory. I understand when you don’t want to talk to me and when you don’t even want me in the same hemisphere, and I do my best to give you your space. I appreciate the moments when we have honest and candid conversations, because you are an amazing child, growing into an even more amazing person, who has so much to offer this world.

I promise the next few years will be challenging, but also rewarding. You really did make it through the toughest time, and it’s now your time to build upon your skills and knowledge as you journey on the inevitable path to adulthood. I believe in you, and I hope that in your times of both great triumph and struggle, you can feel me behind you, supporting you, whispering, “You can do it.”

Because you can, and you will.

I love you most.

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven (aka Mama)