Have I ever mentioned how difficult raising a girl can be? Maybe only two or twenty times? I literally have to slap myself around once in a while because I forget she's eleven. ELEVEN. There are conversations I've been anticipating since she was in the womb, and I find myself having those conversations with her, then I realize she's not fifteen she's ELEVEN.
Going on 32.
She got a pair of black boots for a school program a couple months ago, as she was a pirate. They're cute boots with a couple-inch heel, nothing fancy, nothing slutty, boots I imagined would look cute with a few pair of jeans she has.
For the program she wore the boots with ragged shorts that went down to her knees. It was cute. A month later work had a BBQ and the kids came, and she wore the boots. As we walked into the airport I took it all in, all five feet three inches of her, five feet of those her legs, in skinny jeans and a fitted shirt. The girl had style and looked quite cute, especially with her pixie haircut.
The next day she wanted to wear nearly the same outfit to work (she helps her aunt at the Old Time Photo store), just a different shirt, and she was going to walk. It's a twenty-minute walk to downtown. I quickly imagined my cute stylish girly girl strutting her stuff. Downtown.
At my work, surrounded by people I knew and trusted, I didn't mind the outfit; however, imagining this tall, lanky, beautiful woman-child walking downtown, with strangers eyeballing her, it was all of a sudden NOT. OK. What was once a cute, stylish outfit on my girl, was now a provocative outfit. When she gets her giant rack (and she will get one thanks to me!) I'm in deep shit. At least I have that going for me - she's has no boobs. Yet.
Just imagine the fun I had with that argument, the fun of explaining to my teenager that the thought of icky men ogling your daughter is like watching a nun get raped. It's just BAD. VERY VERY BAD. See? I just did it (on purpose, but this is what happens to me). She's not a teenager. Did you catch that I called her that? Isn't that the age when you have these arguments? When they're teenagers??
When things calmed down and she wasn't wanting to kill me as much as she had earlier in the day, I explained to her that yes, I understood I sent her mixed messages, but I've never done this parent-a-beautiful-leggy-thin-ultra-mature-daughter-thing before and could she please be patient with me while I try to be patient with her.
She got it. It wasn't without a little more frustration, but she got it.
Amanda's such a good kid, and she always has the best of intentions. I know she doesn't want to look anything more than stylish, and the thought that anyone might see her as more than a little child is beyond her comprehension.
I thought I'd have more time - I never anticipated my baby girl growing up so quickly, and that I'd be having to deal with this part of the parenting deal so soon. And alone.
Has anyone gone through this kind of situation with their daughter?
I thank you in advance...