LA Moms Blog

We survived 7th grade!

There were times I wasn't sure we would make it. There was Mean Girls drama, there was re-defining communication, daddy drama, academic struggles, and sometimes, the only thing getting me through was knowing that in 3 years, I'll have a vacation from parenting. Just days after completing 7th grade, my daughter has transformed completely. And I like it.

During the Mean Girls drama, I was talking to someone at their after-school program who not only has a Masters in Child Development, but is also the mother of two now grown daughters. She reassured me that this sort of thing is absolutely normal at this age, and also that 7th grade is the absolute worst.

What my daughter and I learned

In the heat of the moment, I fired off a post here about a situation involving a clique of Mean Girls with a touch of bullying behavior, and how my daughter's middle school counselor let us down. A thoughtful discussion took place in the comments section, and it's time for an update of what has transpired.

The matter is now resolved, thankfully. My daughter and the "bully" had a conversation, and have worked out an amicable acquaintance-type relationship.

I also discussed the matter with a staff member of the girls' after-school program, a program that has truly enriched our lives. We are trying to find a suitable expert to come talk to all of the middle school girls about the drama that too often consumes their lives.

What I don't want my daughter to learn in school

I'm dealing with a situation right now with my 12-year-old that has me fuming. And I admit, I made my mistakes, too, in this dilemma. I told my daughter to talk to the school counselor. I simply wasn't prepared for what would follow.

My daughter told me a couple of weeks ago that she had been physically threatened by a "friend." Granted, middle school girl friendships have their ups and downs, but all the parenting experts out there say that when there's a threat of physical harm, it's time to get serious. I encouraged her to go speak to her school counselor, Mrs. D, about it. Mrs. D has been helpful previously so I thought it was the right call. Little did I know that my little girl would come home more upset than ever, and I would end up apologizing to her.

I'd rather be real

There's been a lot in the pop culture realm these days about being happy, being grateful, and even settling. I've decided I'd rather be honest. By freeing myself to feel anger, sadness, and frustration, I found that I love my life. And I don't have to fake it.

There are times that my life feels overwhelming. Between work, raising two daughters alone, and trying to maintain my own sense of self, sometimes I just want to give up. So I find a few moments to close a door and just cry. I cleanse myself of these feelings by just feeling them. And then I take a few deep breaths, open the door, and go back to my life.

Then someone (my girls or my colleagues) will make me laugh. And I laugh hard. I may laugh harder and longer than is called for, but I'm going to enjoy it for all its worth! Life stops feeling so overwhelming.

I love you, now leave me alone

These past few years blogging, I have written hundreds of posts about my kids. Bragging about them, obsessing about one problem or another, trying to do better for them. Before I blogged (and now), I've had thousands of conversations about parenting them; about what parental involvement should mean, about problems in public education, about getting them to eat healthy, about what stores carry tween sizes...For the past 12 1/2 years, they have been at the forefront of everything I do. And the thought of a whole week without them sounds better to me than a vacation in Paris.

Drama, drama, drama

I'm reading Queen Bees and Wannabees by Rosalind Wiseman, and while I'm only halfway through, it has already provided much blog fodder! I'm reading the book to help my daughters with their schoolgirl dramas, but I'm learning some surprising lessons on how my own girlhood behavior had a long-lasting effect on me.

We want to believe that these moments of "she's my best friend" and "I hate her" are just a normal part of social development, and that this too shall pass. While I agree that the former is true, I'm dubious of the latter.

Making room to get closer

My eldest and I recently had a Date Night at a Mother-Daughter event, and once again, Sylvia asked if she could sit in the passenger seat.

Somehow, she knew. She knew that I'd just been thinking about this. She's asked me multiple times already, but I've always said no. Even though she meets the safety requirements now, I've preferred keeping both the girls in the back seat.

I've grown accustomed to having that passenger seat for my own needs. I practically resent my friends sitting there when we go to lunch because I have to move my sunglasses, the garage remotes, my night-time glasses, papers going from work to home, etc. One of the advantages, frankly, of being a single parent is having the front of the car to myself!

Still, it was going to be at least an hour drive to this event. In truly honoring Date Night, I decided to let my Date sit next to me in the car.

When the time for talk is over

I'm a huge believer in communication. I want my girls to come to me. I will endure inane stories about middle school friendships that are on-again, off-again because I want my girls to talk to me. I believe that an open door of communication does wonders for any relationship.

Lately, however, I'm learning that sometimes it's okay to be all talked out. 

When they were little(r), I thought it was good for them to know why Mommy said "no" to this or that, especially when it involved safety issues. There's always that chance that my head will be turned and they'll think it's a good time to try their fingers in the socket! So I didn't mind taking a little extra time to follow a "no" with a "because."

As they get older, the issues get a little more complicated than "Mother, may I?" From having "the talk" to discussing friendship issues, priorities, a bunch of things that they throw at me and I rely on some old improv skills to get me through.

13 is not the new 18

This isn't going to be a sappy post about my little girl growing up. This is an angry post. This is a post where I lament the loss of my child care tax credit.

Because my baby's turning 13 this year. And apparently, the government thinks that makes her old enough to take care of herself. I disagree.

We had "the talk"

My 12-year-old has reached the point of no return. It was time to discuss intercourse. Not to sound too naive; it wasn't our first conversation on the subject, but it was the first where we discussed more than just abstinence and pregnancy.

It came after watching The Pregnancy Pact together. I'm proud to say she was horrified at the thought of actually wanting to get pregnant during high school, and while she tried to reassure me that she will NOT be doing that while in high school, I didn't want to leave it at just that. We discussed options, we discussed condoms, we discussed STD's.