Over the past few months, the Little Miss has
developed what I kindly refer to as “sass” (but which is probably better
described as “teen with an attitude”).
Now, I’ve done this teen thing twice already. I’ve been through the “I hate you” phase, the
“don’t talk to me because you totally don’t understand” phase, the “Whatever”
and “Nevermind” phases. And I’m
currently deep into the 17 year old “When can I drive the car and why do I need
to actually talk to people” phase. So, I
get it. This is what teens do, and
they’re supposed to. It’s one of those
‘developmentally-appropriate’ things that while annoying, is also
necessary. Independence isn’t easily
achieved, for teens or their parents.
So what’s the difference now that Little Miss is
13 and full of her own brand of sarcastic remarks and frequent “whatevers”
? Simple. I didn’t expect it. For a long, long time, I didn’t even think
we’d see her be 13. (Years and years of
words like “life-threatening” and “uncertain prognosis” tend to put a damper on
imagining your child’s future). And when
I started to believe that we would, eventually, have a teenager on our hands, I
couldn’t quite imagine what that might look like for her. She’s still dependent on us in a lot of ways,
and she’s always been a little behind when it comes to social and emotional
development. She misses the visual parts
of being a teenager – like knowing what everyone else is wearing, or who the
cute boys are – and I wondered if she would even care. And I didn’t really know any teens with
disabilities, and certainly none with her particular set of challenges, so I
had basically no frame of reference.
Turns out she’s pretty much like all the other teen
girls. She alternately wants to curl up
next to me on the couch or spend hours in her room away from me. She loves to shop and would happily spend
hours in a shoe store. She hates when I
pick out her clothes, and she’s informed me that parts of her wardrobe are not
middle-school worthy. She struggles with
homework, but balks at any offer of help from me. She can remember everything her friend said
in math class, but has 5 coats stuffed in her locker because she keeps
forgetting to bring them home. She handed
me a detention slip one afternoon, and casually informed me that “all the kids
got one, so it’s not like it was my fault”.
She’ll turn any argument with her brother into a chance for all-out war,
and when it’s over, she’ll ask if she can have some of his chocolate bar. She wants to help with the dishes and put
away the laundry, unless I ask her to, and then she suddenly has lots of
homework to do. She knows what WTF
means, and she cracked herself up when she dared to actually tell me. And, despite the fact that she can’t see –
has never seen – the typical teen facial expressions, she’s managed to perfect
the sarcastic eye-roll, the I’m-so-much-smarter-than-you smirk, and the
if-I-cry-will-I-get-my-way pout. She’s
also a master of the exasperated sigh.
She’s 13.
At least once a day, she drives me crazy. When I told her tonight that it was time for
bed, I got a snarky “whatever” in response.
She is, as I’ve pointed out to her, just like her sister was at this
age.
