I considered converting to being Amish, but they have Rumspringa. I’ve seen the documentaries about the Amish children who go buck wild once they turn 16, deciding whether or not to commit to a life of churning butter and no air conditioning.
I considered being a Hutterite, but the accent grates on my nerves. Plus they are all kind of related to one another.
I considered being Quaker, except they frown on drinking alcohol. But…it was a Quaker who founded Cadbury, and I like those gooey chocolate eggs. However, most Quakers don’t celebrate holidays, and I loves me a reason to receive gifts, so they’re out.
I considered moving to the country, but that’s where Honey Boo Boo lives and Mountain Dew is a food group.
I considered moving back in with my parents, but that’s where I grew up, and for the sake of my mother’s memory of me as a teenager, I won’t go into details about my teenhood. I’ll just say that I hope my girls are lesbians so I don’t have to deal with teen boys.
They were crazy-adorable-sweet in that picture above at just 3-years and 18-months old, not that I want to go back to diapers. My girls are only 8 and 6 right now, but their adolescence is literally around the corner, taunting me with snippets of The Attitude showing itself from time-to-time.
The Lamestream Media inundates us with stories of Teens Gone Wild. I’ve seen my teen cousins’ lives lived on Facebook, and I’ve read random teen Twitter updates, cringing with a motherly shame.
I’m kind of more than scared to have tween/teen girls in the social media/digital/nipple ring age of America.
Tell me everything’s gonna be alright.
For now, I’ll be over there, hugging my knees, rocking back-and-forth, mumbling for the sweet, sweet Baby Jeesus in a manger to keep the bad people and peni away from my girls for a very long time.