You can't date until you finish grad school

Over at Des Moines Moms Blog, I have been over blogging my worries about what it means to be a mom, how much we give, and what the word boundaries actually means...as in...do I want to end up a stump? Check it out if you haven't yet. And share your wisdom with me. (Please, tell me your secret knowledge).
Have you heard how hard it is to raise teenagers? I bet that's news to you. Shocking, really. I know it's cliche and what not, but honestly, my teenager isn't even a teenager yet. But it sure feels like it. There's a plethora of eye rolling, door slamming, ughhhhhmooooo (I call them cow baby sounds) that come out of my precious child's mouth, stomping, and yelling.

Who wants to come over?

She has a lot going on. This age. Oh, this age. Too big to be little. Too little to be big. An enormous amount of pressure to be cool. Fractions. Ehgh. I just got the heebie jeebies thinking about it. Aren't you glad you aren't that age anymore? I remember it though. I really do. Like, when I told her she would NOT be going to the 5th, 6th, and 7th grade dance. It could be controversial, but honestly, I explained it to her like this.

1. You can't date until you finish grad school.

2. Since you can't date until grad school graduation, what's the point in going to a dance to dance with 5th-7th grade boys?

"I don't like boys yet anyway, Mom, GOSHHHHH!!!!"

3. Right. Doesn't matter.

4. You look like a 16 year old girl. I'm not putting you in a dress and sending you to the wolves.  Why do you need to mingle with older boys?

"I wouldn't be with boys, MOOOM."

5. Ok, but I'm telling you, it'll be like this: Squealing friend: "Go dance with him, OMG!!!!"

"No you!"

"No you!!!!"

"Go tell him I like him and come back and tell me what he says!!!! Hehehehehe!!!!"

"His friend Bernard says he likes you too!!!! AHHHHHHHH!!!!"

Then someone will shove you over to him who has a friend who is also shoving him to you and you'll dance in a weird way to a weird song that they play at the dentist office and everyone will whisper about you.

"MOM!!!! Ugh! How do you know everything?!" She grinned. "I don't want to go anyway. It'll be boring."

Right.

Boring.

Did she just say I know everything? I'm marking this down in my long mental record of something that will never happen again....

Despite the nearly constant attitude, the huge mood swings, the cow baby sounds that resonate throughout our halls, I do have this to cling to:

Will you help me pick out my clothes? Will you fix my hair? What should I do, Mom? Does this look ok? What can I say to her? Can you check my work? Where's my skinny jeans? MOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!! Wait. I fell off there.

She needs me still. She does. She needs me now more than ever, actually. When everything around her, surrounding her, seems so extreme. Such a big deal. The world will end if _______ happens. I remember that. I remember she needs me now more than ever.

And I love her. Oh boy, do I love her.

I will be her sounding board, her skinny jeans finder, her hair do-er, her shoe finder, her bring me a flip-flop I flipped mine over a construction site fence person....(that actually happened yesterday). And I will pray that as she grows into the woman she believes she already is, that she never stops needing me. Although being needed less and less as she grows is a good thing, I pray she will call on occasion to say, "Mom, what should I do?"

Like I do when I call my mom.

Most every morning on my way to work.

Like I'll always do. Because she remembers.