Puberty: New and Improved!

by Patti

Yesterday S begged me to take her to the library to pick up this book she’s been dying to read.

I was spent from work and not feeling really well, but when your kid is BEGGING to go the LIBRARY because she wants to READ, I guess you should suck it up and go.

So we went to the library and scored the book she wanted, and I started for the check-out desk. She tugged my arm and I turned around to find her smiling shyly at me. “Mom… can we check out some books on puberty, too?”

Puberty.

S has always physically been on the small side. She is skinny and petite and weighs 54 lbs. Because of that, sometimes I forget that she is almost 10 ½ years old, and the kid is hungry for information about growing up. But, as much as I try to stop it, she is growing up, so lately, we have been talking a lot about puberty and what that journey entails. She knows about periods and pads and tampons and boobs and is begging me on a daily basis for a bra. “I have to get my breast buds used to a bra, mom!” Yes, she says breast buds. She has no breast buds. But by God she wants them.

Even though I doubt she will have breast buds - much less actual breasts -anytime soon, I did promise her that we can go shopping for her first bra when she turns 11. But she wants one now.

And I won’t give in.

I know it’s technically just a piece of stretchy fabric, these days made kind of adorable with frogs printed all over them or “awesome” peace signs, and I totally get the attraction. But I also know that to HER, it means much more. And because of that, it means even that much more to me.

Maybe I’m being selfish and unreasonable, but I’m not ready for her to start down that path yet. And though she claims that having a bra will make her feel more confident (thank you Discovery Girl Magazine for giving my kid ammunition) since a handful of her friends are already wearing one (BECAUSE THEY NEED IT, WHAT THE HELL THEY ARE TEN. I didn’t get boobs ‘til I was like… oh wait. I still don’t have them.), I kind of feel that she is trying to rush things.

So last night, freshly annoyed with me because I once again told her she would have to wait a little longer for that bra, she laid on the couch to start reading her puberty books. Every once in a while she would read a passage out loud to me, and though I tried to play it cool, in my heart I was happy to know that she feels comfortable enough with me to let me share in all of this with her. “Puberty sounds like so much fun, mom!”

Yes, her underarms stink and she is moody and she likes to stare at herself in the mirror; she is starting to show typical signs that she is growing up. But really? She is still so innocent. Because puberty, kid? IS SO NOT FUN.