Once a month I need to leave the country. My daughter’s hormones rage, her attitude reaches new extremes, and her ability to burst out in tears just when I’m about to send her to her room for the rest of her life, unsettles me. My own Mother’s favorite expression once I reached puberty was consistently, “Oh, I pray you have a daughter just like you!” with a menacing gleam in her eyes. My greatest fear has come to life: I am dealing with a mini-me adolescent, without any means of escape.
I find myself praying that she skips a month every now and then, just to give me a reprieve, but as soon as I see her seething and assuming silent, pms mode, I know that I’m in for another month of suffering. In all fairness, adolescent periods are much worse than anything I currently deal with, due to her raging hormones where her estrogen is in “free-fall.” She looks in the mirror and sees skin and hair issues accentuated by a billion, and any small problem that previously wreaked havoc, becomes a full-blown global trauma.
To protect my own sanity, I attempt to provide assistance in the form of motherly-I-love-you-tips.