My sweet daughter turned 12 on April 11.  It seems like just yesterday she was toddling around the house, naked as a jay bird.  Ella went through a long phase where her favorite outfit was her birthday suit.  At the time, it was sometimes an issue. I was always trying to slip a dress over her head so she'd be decent in public.  If I'd only known then to enjoy that outfit.  The price was right !  The skin she came in was free.  That's about all that is free now.  My girl's must have footwear at the ripe old age of 12 ? Tory Burch flip flops !

I was having a conversation today with my wonderful boss and department chair talking about, amongst other things, the joys of the tween years.  Her kids are a little older than mine and she was encouraging me to enjoy this time, difficult as it can seem at times. 

I told her one of the unexpected joys that has come from my struggles to keep my cool with my girl is having my mother to advise me.  Mother really does know best.  In my case, at the ripe old age of almost 46, it is my mother, Ella's grandmother who is in the know.  So I call her.  Sometimes alot.  Sometimes with alot of noise in the background.  One particular call took place with Ella inside her room, madder than a wet hen and me outside her room, holding the door shut, because I'd told her to stay in her room and she wouldn't.  One hand on the door, one hand on the phone, smoke coming out of my ears, I called Grandma.  She listened to me rant, couldn't help but hear Ella rant and said to me, so calmly, "Honey, that isn't going to work.  In a couple of years, you'll be outside holding the door shut and she'll be climbing out the window on the other side.  You are going to have to talk to her."

Oh, she was so right ! I needed to talk to her then, and I still do.  The little girl in her birthday suit has grown into a little lady in Tory Burch flip flops.  But she's still little.  And whether she likes to admit it or not, she still needs her mom.  And so do I !