Growing pains

Who decided puberty was a “natural” process? I’ve observed nothing natural about my children’s behavior during this rite of passage. Sometimes, I’m not sure they’re actually my children.

Didn’t ancient peoples have huts or something where children hung out until they were post pubescent? I could build a hut, I know how to wield a hammer…although I’d have to clear it with the CC&R committee.

And what about the timeline—is it too much to ask that puberty happen within 24 hrs?
It could arrive quietly, in the dead of night…
“Look, Mom! I grew six inches last night and have hair under my arms. Cool!”

Or it could slip in between breakfast and dinner…
“Mom, I got breasts at noon, can we buy a bra tonight?”

It could even arrive at soccer practice…
“Whoa, coach says I need to shave and buy deodorant before next practice, and check out my voice.”

But it doesn’t…instead, puberty creeps in, one excruciating moment at a time. Your pubescent darling alternately loves and hates everything…you included. Tiny, insignificant details induce tears, tantrums, pouting and anger. Bad hair days are clearly the end of the world, and “It’s not fair” the daily mantra.

My husband conveniently travels during much of the puberty phase—there’s no justice in life. He’s home for the weekend, after four weeks away, but leaves again tomorrow. He says he’s coming back...I think he’s doing a happy dance, because he’s skating through another puberty experience.

When my daughter hits puberty, I think I’ll buy a one-way ticket to anywhere and let my husband experience the joy. In the meantime, I’ve got a hut to build—damn the rules…