It's hard being a girl.

 

My girl had one of those days yesterday. You know... the kind where even the smallest thing can ignite a fire large enough to give Texas a run for its money. When something as seemingly insignificant as a dripping water on your shirt can bring you to your knees and make you cry enough tears to fill up The Seven Seas.

Oh, my sweet Ella. I knew something was off when she couldn't get the rubberband out of her hair and she broke down in watery sobs after she saw the wisps of hair that I had to cut off to get it out. And when she didn't get a chance to brush her hair to get the small mess in order, you'd have thought someone had stolen Mercy Lou the Cockapoo. I was blown away. This child, who has NEVER willingly put a brush through her hair, who has even welcomed birds to live in the nest that has been her blond coif, was destroyed over having a minor knot on the underside of her head. For real. I was thinking, "Who are you?" And later, when we couldn't go to dinner with her pal Emily and her mom and sister, I was certain the earth was about to break open and swallow us all. Scary stuff, my friends, scary stuff.

Now, the hair thing I was surprised about, but whole the flipping out thing, not so much. Since she was 3, I've noticed it. It seems to happen about once every 3-4 weeks... it's like PMS for little girls. Temper flares, crying outbursts, moodiness, sensitivity, etc. There's a lot of door-slamming, foot-stomping, whining, and those high-pitched ughs. Part of it is kinda funny, part of it is sad, and part of it scares the crap out of me.

I think this is a precursor to pre-teens, and if it's worse than this, then we are in B.I.G. trouble. My parents think this is awesome. They think this is my comeuppance for the (apparent) hell that I created for them. They remind me of how I broke doors from slamming them, how I walked 100 feet in front of them when I didn't get a dress I wanted at the mall, how I would scream at my brothers, blah blah blah. Whatever.

All I know is that on that day, when she was sad and sensitive, I could only be a little sweeter, give her extra hugs, and bigger smiles. I could only let her know how much I love her and that it's okay to cry and be upset and get frustrated. Us girls have enough on our plates just trying to be girls. And I want her to know that it can really suck sometimes and maybe there are times when the bad seems to out-weigh the good, but that it will change. It will get better. And I am always here for her. Always. At the very least, in her heart.