The kids are sitting with me now, doing their homework and snacking. I noticed Jane has a pimple on her chin.

I know she hasn’t been washing her face the right way, and I can help her, but sometimes that has us fighting.

I also know that if I let her get a little pimply she’s a little less attractive to the boys. Would it really kill her to have an awkward year?

Then again, girls are unkind.

It’s just a pimple, but at the moment it’s a metaphor for our lives together the next few years.

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  1. Is there some other adult you trust who she’s close with who could give her the info in a way she’d accept?

  2. relax Jessica. yes girls are mean, sometimes to the point of being hateful. But we all have been through our ‘awkward’ year(s) and well we survived. with teens, sometimes semi-ignoring the issue (unless its life threatenting) always worked for me. eventually the said teen, and usually within a day or so, would ask for help or something to help the issue.. Jane is a sweetie and lucky lucky to have you as a mom…you’re doin ok…but you knew that, didn’t you?

  3. My daughter is 4 going on 5. I think I’m happy basking in the joy of having her at this age while I can.

  4. believe me, what the next years have to offer will bring you to your knees begging for just a little pimple. hold tight and take some dramamine, the teen years make you a bit queasy but we do all live through them.

  5. Hi Jessica –

    Visiting your site after seeing you on a DVR’d episode of Dr. Phil. I am enjoying your blog and look forward to coming back and reading more!

    My daughter is 5 and I’m dreading those teen years. She’s starting already — “No mommy, I want my hair THIS way….not the way YOU’RE doing it!”


    All I can say is that we must strap ourselves in and enjoy the ride as much as we can (without throwing up!)

    ~ Jennifer

  6. You’re a wonderful Mom, Jessica. Jane will definitely come to you when she’s ready for help. :)

  7. I was an athlete as a teenager… I wore boys basketball shorts and tee shirts and basketball shoes when I’d hang out with my athlete boyfriend. My mom would say to me every time I left the house… “Do you want him looking at you? Or do you want him looking at the girl walking by?”

    Eventually, that stuck with me and I started taking a bit more care when I got dressed. It wasn’t because I wanted him to look at me. It was because I wanted my mom to.

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