It started about two years ago, when I noticed that her shirt was not laying…shall we say…flat against her chest.
So we bought her a training bra. Then she outgrew that, and moved into A cups.
She discovered the joys of talking on the phone, and her dolls have been relegated to the corners to make room for earrings.
She has crushes on boys at schools, sighs about how “hot” they are, and did the ultimate 13-year-old girl stupid thing, rushed up to a boy, shoved a poem she wrote in his hand, and ran off. She won’t listen to me tell her how immature boys are at this age, and that she won’t be fully appreciated for her intelligence and beauty until she reaches college, buy maybe her older brother and father can get through to her.
Now we get to the TMI. If you’re familiar with teenaged girls, you know what happens next.
I’m on my way to work today when she calls my cell phone. “Mom!” she cries, “I woke up and my underwear was full of blood!”
Now, on Halloween, we’d had a “scare” as it were, because she saw blood on toilet paper, so I told her how to fit the pad and make sure she had a couple extra in her purse. But there was nothing more that night, and nothing yesterday. But this morning, apparently it started again, but nothing all day at school. From what I could tell on her underwear, it’s definite, and I think it will start to really flow tonight or tomorrow.
So, Ivygirl is no longer a little girl. I shall miss the tiny thing who scrubbed between her toes with her brother’s toothbrush, who came up with compound names for things (her new shoes were “comfeetable,” the dog was "cutiful) and who thought her brother walked on water. Now she reads voraciously, wants to try every new sport at school that comes up, and torments her brother to death (he does it back, so they’re even.)
She still has more growing up to do, but it’s started. Sigh.