Warning: Deafness caused by Tweens and Indoor Pools

My daughter turned 12 on January 12, 2010. This birthday is important for her because it is the last year before her teens. It is important to me because my little girl is not so little anymore.

Twelve is the last year as a young child. She is moving into a year of changes: body, hormones, boys, new friendships, and emotional separation from me. Her mind will be growing along with her body. She will begin to question who she is. She is encountering school dances, school sponsored sports, and subject matter that her I have sheltered her from so far. And there is nothing I can do stop this train.

I remember my preteen years as emotional and tumultuous. I cried more during those years than I have in the last ten. I comprehend the complexity and patience that my mom exhibited thirty years ago. Now, I begin my own path of practicing restraint, both emotionally and mentally in my own right.

My past Friday began at 3:30 pm with the transportation of eight 12-year-old girls to the Fairfield Inn on Hwy 280 for an overnight party and an indoor pool. I pressured my friend, Renata, to accompany me for support. The 20-minute car ride awakened my consciousness to the language and content of 12-year-old girls. Boys, other girls, dances, coolness, cell phones, texting and music were updated to my untrendy brain. I acknowledged and appreciated the openness of the girl’s conversation and only one time was there an uncomfortable swap of topic. Otherwise, their innocence came through with the amount of social information I was permitted to overhear.

I found out who was going out with whom (meaning to like but not going anywhere), who liked a girl but she didn’t like him, and the boy that the entire car agreed was nice but was somewhat feminine. I listened about the mean girl who was going out with the nice boy (why they wondered) and where they bought their dresses for the upcoming winter dance. My daughter sat in the front seat, interacting openly with her friends with only the occasional glance of nervousness my way.

We arrived safely at the hotel, checked into our two adjoining rooms and started a night of squealing, swimming, laughter, food inhalation and texting. My boundary level of auditory input was reached early in the game. I cannot fully describe the misery of sitting in a heated indoor pool area, with sounds reverberating of the walls, a noise decibel that possibly jumbled my neuron paths. Renata and I took turns having quiet time alone in the room upstairs.

The rest of the evening was a continuation of all the above. As the night went on, I found the girls to be funny, charming and interesting in each of their own way. I loved that the girls were comfortable in their own skins. There were small moments of wanting to fit in but the acceptance from the group sent the individual back to her childlike behavior. I found myself transfixed listening to the girls and happy that my daughter and her friends were having such a good time.

I understand that these times of peeking into her interactions with peers will be ending. But, I cherish the moment and again, feel thankful for my daughter and sad that she is growing up. She may remember her 12th birthday as the cool indoor pool and overnight but I will always cherish it as a window of opportunity to spend time with her and her friends. I know from my own relationship with my mother at this age that these moments will cease for a while and I will be out of the loop on who she is. But, I also know that our friendship will pick up again once she is through certain developmental stages and that our bond between mother and daughter will be solid.