Angel's thoughts

 I have only one daughter. If I were to be completely honest, I never wanted a girl. In the early years, my relationship with Mom was nothing less than tumultuous, and the thought of going through it again, with my own child, just didn't appeal to me. Andrew was 7 years old by the time she came along, and I was quite content occupying him on airplanes, by making karate noises with the Star Wars figures.

A girl? The only saving grace at the time, was Mom. She was a girly girl, my Mom. Me? Just a big ol' tomboy. What in God's name am I gonna do with a little girl? Play Barbies? Ugh.

A few weeks ago, thoughts ran through my head about my daughter. Will she be short like Mom, who stood only 4 foot 11? Will she be shapely like my Mother? It seems, my thinking wasn't too far off course. But I kept thinking....I had at least 2 more years to contemplate these things. She IS only 9!

As we sat having dinner at our favorite Mexican restaurant about a month ago, she dissed her Dad relentlessly. I'd call her down for not answering his questions, and she'd sink lower in the booth. I just kept thinking, then telling Eddie, "IF she's like this NOW, what's it gonna be like when puberty hits?"

She has more of a waist line than I do. She definitely has MORE attitude than I exhibit on a daily basis.....The next day, all the questions started. All those, I don't really feel like answering, questions. But I did. There's a fine line there. How much is TOO much info? It seemed I threw warnings at her more than anything. "Boys are rotten eggs, Alyssa. They'll make fun of you about ANYTHING, but it's even worse through puberty. NEVER go without a bra, once you need one."

Within hours, she came to me. I had already noticed what she would tell me........"My chest hurts....".

Then it all made sense. The attitude. The whining. The crying. The high and then the LOW. She's NINE years old for God's sake. NINE. 

I no longer could just throw warnings at her. I HAD to tell her all I had avoided in the last conversation. I explained things that made her make faces like she was eating sardines. She was grossed out. She was scared. Then I told her, "Good news is......we get to go buy BRAS for you..." and the look of spoiled sardines left her face. She was elated. Excited. She was starting Pooberty. "No, Alyssa, sweetie......it's PEW-berty." Don't you think there is something inherently wrong that a child can start preparing for womanhood, although she can't say the word puberty?

Thank goodness, BRAS are all I need at this stage in the game. One day, when I'm dead and gone, she'll find this blog and be absolutely humiliated that I documented this for PUBLIC eyes. Hopefully by then, she'll have her own daughter, and maybe understand where I'm coming from.

Just like the song....Time keeps on ticking...ticking....ticking......into the future, I grabbed my camera and headed out back with her. My only mission this afternoon was to capture a LITTLE girl, with no worries of menstruation, or puppy love, or Victoria Secret sales...... 

Meanwhile, I found an ONLINE photo editing program I'm kinda addicted to, since all of LAST NIGHT. It has lots of neat features, like adding your kid to a magazine cover. Ironically, this post was NOT even on my mind when I created this magazine cover......Titled, EARLIEST CHILD~and I find that pretty stinkin funny.

Here's the original picture, straight out of the camera. July 17th, 2008