Boys and Pimples and Hair! Oh, My!

It's amazing how much has changed from one school year to the next. This year I am officially the mother of a high schooler! I know, scary, right? This year all of my children are in three different schools. This will never happen again. I have one in high school, one in middle school and one in elementary school. And I couldn't be prouder of all three of my little snowflakes.

My son started marching band in high school. He is officially taller than me now by at least a couple of inches. In fact I have started feeling a little awkward reaching up to hug him. What happened? He was always in top band in middle school, and now, in high school, he is also in the top band as an incoming freshman! Quite an accomplishment for my little man. And a little man is definitely what he is becoming. He has started to get all the mood swings typical with being a teenager. It is exhausting to stay on top of it, but I tell you now that it is well worth it. My son is still respectful, polite, happy, funny and charming. Most days. He still has his dark side. Like all kids, he is still pushing his limits and trying to see what he can get away with, which isn't much. And like all kids, learning to drive is most prevalent in his mind. Eek!

My eldest daughter started seventh grade this year, so this isn't her first rodeo. She is coming very close to passing me up on the height scale, too, but I should point out that it isn't very hard to do. This year she was much more concerned about her hair. Oh, her precious hair! This summer she wanted to dye it blue and we tried to do it with Kool-Aid but her hair is very dark and it didn't show up very well. Then we tried it with a temporary hair color and it still didn't show up very well. Now she wants to just dye her hair a different, but normal hair color. I keep trying to explain to her that with dark hair there is only so much we can do. So right now we're settling on straightening her wavy locks each morning before school. Today's freak out was over a tiny little pimple on her forehead. I didn't even see it until she pointed it out, but apparently it was huge! Like, gigantic! At least she's not chasing boys. More like she's busy bossing them around. She doesn't put up with much BS from anyone anymore, not since learning the hard way what makes a good friend. She leaves chasing the boys to my youngest.

My youngest is in her last year of elementary school and couldn't be in more of a hurry to grow up. She frequently has conversations with her BFF about which boys they have crushes on (tee hee) and which boys are just gross (blech). She has most recently taken to stealing her older sister's sports bras and wearing them to school, much to big sis' displeasure, because, you know, she doesn't even need them. But as I have to remind big sis, the whole reason she has the sports bras to begin with was because she was so desperate to wear a bra just like all her little friends were. And that is just what my youngest is doing. As to the boys? I finally had a sit down with my baby girl about chasing boys. We reached an understanding that boys can wait, education is her main priority right now. Let's hope she keeps that in mind for a very long time.

I'm excited for this year. I am very involved in my son's band program. I was in band and loved it. I'm looking forward to my oldest daughter's choir concerts. My youngest daughter is usually pretty involved with student council and might be again this year, we'll have to wait and see. I hope all of you have a fantastic school year!

Bra Envy Leads to Breast Envy

When I was ten, I had the worst case of Bra Envy. That's the precursor to Breast Envy. It ate me up. I don't know if all little girls go through Bra Envy or just us late bloomers, but I remember it very clearly.

When I was in fifth grade I thought all of my friends were starting to develop and it drove me crazy. There they all were. All wearing bras. Messing with their bra straps. Having to adjust themselves. I was going mad with jealously! I begged my mom to buy me a bra. But for what? What would a bra possibly be holding in? I was lucky I had fat enough on my body to keep me warm, let alone try form boobies. So I thought I was real smart. I thought that if I just stood up real straight and stuck my little chest out, it would look like I was getting bigger on top. It didn't stop there. I would wear an undershirt or something under my clothes. You know, to give the appearance of bra straps. I didn't care if they were big and bulky. And I would fiddle with an imaginary strap in the middle of my back, just like all my real bra wearing friends did. It worked until a boy in class went to snap my bra and discovered there was nothing there. I was mortified. So I did the next best thing. I hiked my underwear up as high as it could go. Until it almost reached the middle of my back if I arched my spine. This was a long time time ago. All we kids had back then were Granny Panties. Then I would fiddle with my undies as if they were my bra strap. I was desperate.

Don't judge me.

I don't think I got my first training bra until the end of fifth grade. And I never actually needed a bra until maybe seventh grade. I'll even let you in on a little secret. I wore the Wonder Bra when I got married because I wanted a little something on top. Do you remember those? Of course you do. Now I have the best in Victoria's Secret bras, but I want better boobs. I had kids. Enough said. Bra Envy leads to Breast Envy.

So, what do I tell my ten year old daughter? In her mind's eye, all her little friends are starting to wear bras and little undershirts because, let's face it, they need them. My daughter, my precious little girl, does not. She is built like I was at ten years old. Scrawny. But lucky for her, she has me to help guide her through this sensitive time. I went out and bought her the damn bra.