Changes are inevitable

Remember this place?  After vacations, visitors and summer chaos, I almost did too!  Moving along to more pressing matters:

As those who know me well are aware of, I am not looking forward to those upcoming teenage years in my children and have been apprehensive of those years as soon as I saw the plus sign indicating the conception and pregnancy of my first child. This time when some sort of ingrate alien takes over their body and doesn't leave for many many years has me feeling like I better find some tough armor and "weapons" in order to keep some sort of homeostasis in my household, even though it may last minutes at a time.  I view this upcoming period as more exhausting than exhilarating; I desperately hope my strong-willed children will prove me wrong.

It is ironic that I chose the user name "Rosebud" for this blog. "Rosebud Circle" was the name of the street where we purchased our first house, "Rosebud" was the name I deemed for myself should I let all bodily hair grow freely (I'm still Erica, but Rosebud has moved to my second name), and "Rosebud Farms" is what my neighbor suggested I name my backyard with all of it's inhabitants.  It is not the first word of this compound word that has me creating this post, but the latter.  Before I continue on, let me clarify this post is not to embarrass any particular female child of mine; it is merely a confession of my own apprehensions and fears toward the inevitable changes of a particular female child of mine.

We all are aware or can acknowledge many things in this life on a variety of subjects, but chose to ignore or side step the unpleasant things about such until it is directly in front of us blocking all forward motion in our particular path in life forcing us to deal with the reality of it all.  Based on some recent developments, I am forced to acknowledge the puberty years are coming and I'm a bit scared.  OK, maybe a lot scared.

I'm just going to put it out there; Emma has developed a breast bud.  Here is how the discovery went down:
Emma- Mommy, can I show you something?  Avery accidentally kicked me while we were swimming and it hurts.
Me- Sure, where is it?
Emma- Here. (as she lifted her shirt to show me)
Me- Hmmm. (as I calmly palpated the small fibrous mass all the while thoughts invade my head: WHAT?!  No, it can't be.  She is just turning 11, she is petite, she is too young. Yea, it has to be a bruise without the bruising colors that just happens to be under the areola.  Yea, that's it.) Well, Emma, that may be the very beginning of a breast.


That evening, I was burning up the Internet on bud developments and appropriate ages for such, as I could not remember when exactly this happened for myself.  I could, however, swear it was not until I was 12, 13 or maybe even 14.  From what I found, nine years old is normal for the development of a breast bud. AHHHH!  OK, so I swallowed that jagged pill with lots of hesitation and brought myself to believe that my daughter, my little child daughter whom I just gave birth to not so long ago, MAY be starting the early stages of puberty (maybe the pill was still stuck in my throat).


The next morning I set Emma aside and told her I thought what she showed me was indeed the beginning of a breast.  I reminded her of discussions we had in the past on what else she should expect as her body goes through these changes.  She is well informed and in a way, proud her body was doing what it was supposed to do.


A week or so goes by and all the while I have this nagging little tickle in the back of my mind.  Deep in daily activities it lies within me subconsciously and when driving, as I do my best thinking then, it comes to my conscious.  I feel and am very open with my children in my role as their mother, to raise them to one day leave me so they may become stable and contributing adults in society.  It is my job as their mother to teach them, support them to reach this goal.  This step, this milestone, is another step in letting go.  I have no doubt my children will thrive without me; I only pray they continue to realize, even through rough times, each are a piece of my tender heart.  When they hurt, I hurt, when they are sad, I'm sad, when they laugh, I laugh, when they are proud, I am proud.  I will love them no matter what.


More recently, Emma has come to me declaring she has discovered hair growth. *Whimper*