Organized Minutiae, Precocious Puberty, and Mommy Tears

So while I’ve been stringently organizing the minutiae of my life like DS cartridges and Legos, my little girl has been growing up behind my back.

Which brings us to another frightening installment of:

Real Conversations, Really Bad Parenting.

Girl Child: “Mommy, my nipples hurt when I press on them.”

Bad Mommy: “Well don’t press on them.”

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Two days later, she complained once more about sore nipples, to which I again suggested the obvious, and most likely with the “duh” sound tacked onto the end for effect.

Then yesterday during dinner, she said, “Mom. My boobies still hurt. Are you sure I’m not going through puberty?”

To which I dismissively clucked, “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re only 8 years old.”

Which spurred Nature Boy, her 11 year old brother and official validator, to chime in: “Yeah, sometimes my man-boobs hurt. It could be puberty, Mom.”

Then we all just cackled like hyenas about Nature Boy’s “man-boobs” and someone asked someone else to pass the peas and that was the end of that.

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Cue my daughter’s guardian angel who whispered in my ear later that evening “Pay attention… she needs you.”

And so at bedtime that night, Mini-Me and I sat down on her bed for a heart to heart. She lifted her pink cowgirl nightie, took my hand and placed it on her chest, and said, “See? Do you feel that?” And sure enough… there was a little bump under each nipple. I suddenly remembered her bursting into tears for no reason on two separate occasions the week before, and then all the pieces of the puberty puzzle magically came together, and…

Oh.

My.

God.

How can this be?

She’s only 8 years old.

She still enjoys playing with Fisher Price Little People and Legos. All she wanted for Christmas was a Penguin Pillow Pet and snow. She’s too young for breasts. And I’m totally not ready for this.

It reminds me of a comedienne I once heard who said “People used to tell me, ‘Don’t blink, or your kids will be grown before you know it.’ And so I’d go home and blink, and blink, and BLINK!” I sooooo get that. I blink A LOT around here. And organize Legos. And drink wine from a box.

But I thought I had more time.

You see, every time I look at her, all I see is this:

 

and this:

 

 

and this:

 

Dear God, is it too much to ask to keep her just like this a little while longer? I promise I’ll stop with the Lego sorting, if you’ll just give me another chance.

Well I’m off to google things like “puberty” and “normal breast growth” and “does watching iCarly lead to hormonal abnormalities?” Wish me luck. And please tune in tomorrow to see if I’ve invented a legal way to stunt my daughter’s growth.

Oh, and if you happen to hear the sound a grown woman weeping to the tune of Cher’s If I Could Turn Back Time, it’s probably coming from my house. Sorry about that.

Dazed and confused,

-Iris

© Copyright 2011, The Bearded Iris.