God, teenager PMS. And teenager confusion. And teenager anger over little things. Do I remember it. Sometimes it really was like the sane part of my mind was watching the rest of me thinking “Why the hell am I doing that?” It sucks for her, too, but god forbid you talk to your *mom or dad * about it. I did that from about 11 to 15. By 17, I was a person again. Now in my mid-20s, I remember being a teenager as a confused fog. As long as there’s nothing medically wrong with her, probably just normal consequences and rewards and not reacting to her drama will go a long way. (Like your reaction to the books–perfect. I also remember a few situations when I acted like a shithead, and my parents reacted to me like they would react to an adult behaving that way: “You’re acting horrible, you’re treating me badly, and I won’t listen to it.” Then they left the room. It was a shock, but it made me think about my behavior, eventually.) Problem is, teenagers are quite smart enough to juuuuuust skirt the boundaries of oafishness that is to be punished and oafishness that’s just freakin’ annoying. Share the wonders of Midol, hot water bottles, tea, and chocolate with her.
For yourself, you could take up yoga or violent video games. Or consider my aunt, who has two girls, one 15 and one 13. Who share a room. She calls my grandmother weekly to apologize. Things could be much worse.
Now my brother is 11, and soon to enter the phase. My dad says they’re going to ship him off to me for the summer, or chain him up in the basement until he’s 20, depending. That’s always an option. I was talking about that with a friend the other day, and he said, “Well, you have a little time. Girls are teenagers at 11, but boys aren’t really teenagers until 15 and last until 22.”