My pre-teen daughter is a fucking nightmare.
And by “fucking nightmare,” I mean she’s a perfectly-normal, emotionally-charged, almost-twelve-year-old girl. It’s just that the hormones in her body are RAGING in an epic battle for dominance, and her good-natured spirit and cheerful demeanor are currently getting slaughtered.
Fortunately for her safety and my sanity, I remember what it’s like to be her age. I remember the random screaming fits, the dramatic antics, and the internal emotional whiplash. I don’t take it personally, and, for the most part, I can approach my daughter calmly and offer appropriate advice and support:
- “Take some deep breaths. It’s going to be okay.”
- “Do you want to walk the dog with me and talk about it?”
- “Can you repeat that? I’d like to blog about it.”
- “How about you go lie down in your room? Hit a few pillows and get that frustration out.”
- “Here. Have a cookie. It will give your mouth something else to do besides scream in my face.”
Unfortunately, the boys in this household were not prepared for the tweenage reign of terror. My son, who’s about three years younger, just stares at his sister as if he’s studying a lab specimen. Because I’m open and direct, I’ve explained to him what’s going on with my daughter, what it’s going to be like the next few years, and how we can best help her. (This may be why he’s not looking forward to 2016.)
He once made the mistake of saying something supportive during one of her internal cage matches, and she unleashed the fury of ten thousand plagues on him. Now he wisely stays out of her way and just gives me a look like, “That is a most illogical display of human behavior.”
And poor Mr. Foxy is completely out of his league. He did not experience the same demonic drama, and he was apparently (intentionally?) distracted (by teenage girls?) when his younger sister was going through puberty. So he just looks at me with helpless eyes when our daughter is having one of her meltdowns.
We’ve discovered that he’s better at discussing difficult things with her when she’s calm, and I’m better at handing the meltdowns. Our real challenge, however, comes in the mornings. We never know who’s going to wake up: our sweet daughter or Regan from The Exorcist.
Because my husband has been assaulted by her fury and vitriol one too many times, he asks me to wake up our daughter if she doesn’t do so on her own. (Don’t vilify him—he does shit I don’t want to do all the time. Like removing hair from sink drains. And handling raw meat. [That’s not a penis joke.] I find raw meat incredibly disgusting. In fact, I just threw up a little.)
Anyhow, on those mornings, I carefully go to her room, knock softly on the door, and attempt to wake her up calmly and lovingly. I remind myself: “Stay cool. Don’t lose your shit. Watch out for flying projectiles. And don’t look directly in her eyes.”
Some days, we do just fine. Other days, the Hormones of Hell take control. She screams at the world, “WHAAAAAAAAAAT TIIIIME IIIIIIIIS IIIIIIIIIIT?! OHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOO!!” and other things I can’t repeat (I know, RIGHT?!). Then she hurls clothes and random objects around the room and stomps to the bathroom. And throws me looks that rival Chucky from Childs Play. Before slamming the bathroom door with enough force to hack off a zombie’s arm.
I’m lucky if I make it out of her room without turning into stone.
The whole situation reminds me of when she was two, and we encountered one of our first real parenting challenges. (She was an easy baby, but we didn’t know it because she was our firstborn.) After sleeping twelve hours straight (don’t hate me), she would wake up having turned into a screaming, nonsensical mini-monster—a dramatic change from her normal sweet, easy-going self.
At first we wondered if we’d hit the terrible twos and were just fucked for the next year or so. But after enduring this torment for a couple of weeks, we noticed that the blood-thirsty demon disappeared after breakfast, and we finally figured out that she was just really fucking hungry when she woke up.
Clever parents that we were, we discovered that if we left some milk and snacks in her room before she woke up, she could consume these before she found us, and we would never need to face that little barbarian again. We referred to this chore as “feeding the beast.” (“Hey, did you feed the beast yet?” “Foxy, it’s almost 7:00—you had better feed the beast before she wakes up!”)
Because that brilliant technique worked so well in dealing with the terrifying two-year-old and because there are a lot of similarities between toddlers and tweenagers, Mr. Foxy and I are brainstorming on how to incorporate this strategy into our current morning routine. Here are some of our ideas:
- Put a dorm fridge in her room and keep it stocked with food and beverages. (And let the dog in her room to clean up the crumbs.)
- Remotely turn on her favorite music to wake her.
- Get one of those automatic food dispensers and fill it with her favorite snack: Doritos. (Again, the dog-vacuum is instrumental.)
- Have her best friend text her repeatedly when it’s time to get up.
- Install a timed, remote-controlled bank vault over her door that can only be opened when her blood pressure is below a certain threshold.
- Bribe her with cold, hard cash. Or something shiny (like a real phone instead of an iPod touch).
Obviously, most of these ideas will result in a visit from Child Protective Services or a very spoiled, entitled brat. So I’ll just keep wearing my emotional armor and persevere through this phase.
And maybe record one of her meltdowns to show her future husband.
Photo Credit: “Orcus, former prince of demons” by Benny Mazur is licensed under CC BY 2.0. Cropped and added title graphic overlay.
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OMG I remember these days with my girl!!! It gets better (Not!)
I’ll stock up on wine.
I know exactly what you mean because I totally WAS this girl. At least I have 11 1/2 years before I have to deal with it with my own daughter…
Stock up on wine now. (I wish someone had told me that sooner.)
I feel you, as I have 2 teen beasts. My oldest is awful to EVERYONE in the house, my youngest is only awful to her dad. Her dad is ALWAYS on the receiving end of the wrath of 15. Her dad is the most patient man in the world.
I was going to make a crack about how he had to be patient if he married you. But I like you too much.
I was blessed to never have had the tween / teen demon daughter. How I managed to dodge that bullet is still a mystery to me. :-/
That sounds like a miracle, really. 😉
A miracle may have happened….but my forehead is really sore from facepalming the things she says and does. I am blessed regardless
I have 2 beasts. 12 and 13. They share a room. I wonder what I did in a previous life to deserve this?? The alarm goes off and hell breaks loose. I should send my neighbors earplugs and wine. And then pay to join them.
At this point I think college will be my only reprieve. Only 5 years to go. Lord help us all.
Did you make one of those paper chains to count down until college? That and wine might help. 😉
My daughter (19 now) never went through that stage (thank goodness), but I vividly remember MY parents fighting over who had to get me up. At some point my mother just up and quit the job. My dad would come in and sing at me in the morning and I would throw pillows at him. He would then retreat and I wouldn’t see either of them until I’d had breakfast. So, maybe they were using one of your strategies.
My 11 year old son hasn’t started going through the joys of puberty, but boys are better with all that, aren’t they?
Boys and puberty….ah yes I remember it well. The wet dreams with the wet spot on the sheets( this is why most husbands won’t sleep in the wet spot)….porn stashed between the mattresses ( if he starts making his own bed this is your clue). Oh and the best part….the crusty crumbled up towel in the corner. This coming from a father who has 2 boys and was also a boy himself.
I’m hoping boys are better because I’ve got my hands full with the girl.
I am silently thanking all the Gods that be that I have a boy.
Of course, I have a boy who screams “I HATE LIIIIIIGHT” when I wake him up to go to school, but a boy nonetheless.
Boys are easier as tweens. Boys are easier as tweens. Boys are easier as tweens. If I say enough times, it will come true.
Oh no! I have a 7.5 year old girl who has these moments when she doesn’t get enough sleep or when we tell her no or when we don’t make what she wants for dinner. I thought it was only going to get better! I heard this is normal for 7 or 8 as their bodies begin the process of growing up and preparing for puberty, etc. This makes me terrified of the next few years. And the 5y-o boy is already super intense, so I have no idea what the teenage years will bring.
At least Foxy will be here to teach us what she learned.
HAHAHAHA! Yes, because I’m clearly an authority on the subject. *adds note about not taking any parenting advice seriously to disclaimer page*
My beast only just turned 13. She is still sweet and lovely to me but my husband has to tell me what he wants to say to her and I have to find ‘the right moment’. Good times!
Sounds like you two have a good system worked out though. That’s half the battle. Maybe more than half
Wow. I figure I’ve got about four years left before that starts happening. The only saving grace will be that her father will have absolutely no idea how to deal with it – so I can enjoy watching that happen.
I’ve heard scattered lies, errr, reports that some girls avoid this. Maybe that will happen with you too.
My daughter is 15 and it ain’t been pretty for a while now. Yesterday she threatened to punch her dad in the throat because he was singing instructions to her. She was serious. They were in the car at the time, so he pulled over and made her get out and told her he couldn’t drive with someone so menacing in the car. When I asked her about it later she said “You know how much I hate it when you and Dad sing instead of talk!” (Duh! As if her threat of violence was justified).
Great post, Foxy! My two favorite ideas of yours and Mr. Foxy’s are using a friend of hers as an alarm clock, and buying her a real phone. If she can complain to her friends about how idiotic her parents are she’ll be less likely to take it out of you so much.
Wow. Good for your husband for making her get out of the car. I’ll have to remember that one. And you make a very compelling argument for the phone.
I would never allow for my daughter to treat anyone like this, especially us as her parents. It is about respect and she needs to learn how to control herself. So far so good
the only way I see this scenario happening is if I kill my daughter’s spirit. I’ll take the screaming demon over a stepford child any day.
And she would be…four? I can’t imagine you’re going to be able to exert that kind of control over a child unless, as Peter suggests, you’ve found a way to Stepfordize her.
The screaming demon is a pretty normal state for a tween. I believe that it’s healthy to unleash her emotions. And my job to help her find healthy ways to do that.
Just YES! I remember when The Girl hit this phase. I could deal with the screaming and slamming. It was the emotional crying jags that I wanted to run from.
You’ve given me hope that I will make it through to the other side.
During my daughter’s epic pre-teen hormonal meltdowns she was also suffering from daily migraines (a headache that lasted 3 years!) so yeah it was a NIGHTMARE but now we’ve survived and she seems so much lighter without the headache. Now, that’s not to say that she sometimes isn’t a bitch just because she can be one and I feel the need to remind her who the queen bitch of this house is!
LOL! The Queen Bitch is making me laugh. And I’m glad to hear she’s made it through to the other side. I can’t imagine throwing headaches into the mix.
Boy, I am kind of glad I have boys. We have two boys and when they get hormonal they usually just stay in their rooms and listen to music.
Music is good for taming the savage beast. She listens to a lot of it in the afternoons.
Good Lord thank you for letting me get through that stage. I believe God only gives you what you can handle. I have only one child- a girl now 22 years old . But there were MANY times I thought he overconfident in me. I refused the morning monster wake up call. Replacing that with an air horn from the opposite end of the house. I believe they were equally ear shattering. The constant tantrums I’m sure the neighbor heard a half mile away during the cold winter months.
I now know how she works with huge bulls everyday. She may weigh a hundred pounds but she’s got gonads bigger than them. I’m sure they cowards to her.
*adds “blast air horn” to the list of ideas for dealing with the beast* Thank you!
I remember those days…you’ll like her again when she’s 18 and has left for university. That’s where my daughter is now….I like her so much better…from a distance.
LOL! Fortunately she’s not always this way. But I hear it gets worse before it gets better…
Wuh-oh. Not looking forward to this stage. I thought she was dramatic now. Yikes. Both my sister and I were pretty low-key but my husband’s sisters were pretty wild, to hear tales. At least they had each other to attack though. Hmm, maybe I should rethink the one and done stance….
You never know, your daughter may bypass it completely. Also, she may become the Queen of England.
Wow, it’s like you live in our house. I can’t believe how terrible this time of life is…for the entire fam. I’d rather change diapers for triplets. I’m SO GLAD for this post & comments, the acknowledgement is affirming in a way that I don’t get from my real life people. We’ve been living this for a couple of years now and I’ve slipped in to the land of broken hearted & pretty much depressed. I dearly hope we get a version of our sweet girl back someday. It’s killin’ me.
You are so not alone. This parenting shit is HARD. And your sweet girl is still there. xoxo
Oh…it will pass.
In five years or so. hahaha.
HAHAHAHA. *breaks down sobbing*
OMG! I remember those days! My daughter is now 21. At least the screaming has stopped. LOL!
Well that give me hope? 😉
My kids are 13 (boy), and 12 (girl). I see this from both of them. My daughter is just on the fringe of puberty, and my son is at the stage that his hormones are being carbonated by all the girls at school. I’m thinking two years of military school.
“His hormones are being carbonated by all of the girls at school.” That’s brilliance.
My eleven year old son has started some of this–mostly meltdowns because he can’t have a fucking computer turn (Dear Minecraft–I hate you–love, me). My seven year old daughter already does some of this. Piss her off (and there’s no real way to tell what will piss her off) and she stomps off and goes and hides under a blanket in her room. She hasn’t started screaming yet. Yet. *sigh*
I guess we’ll just have to write about it in order to survive.
“And maybe record one of her meltdowns to show her future husband.”
HAHAHA. Does your daughter read your blog?
Not yet. But she knows about it and what I write about. I told her it’s an “adult” blog. She’s buying that. For now.
Don’t make eye contact, slide the plate over to her, and walk away – this is the move we do with our son.
I need to cut a small opening at the bottom of her door so I can slide the food under.
Feeding the beast was a brilliant strategy. If you don’t mind, I’ll pass along the suggestion for my kid to try with my grand-daughter.
Please do. We need to save moms and dads all over the world. 😉
My daughter is 11 and is starting to show just a little bit of what’s to come. She’s still generally a super sweet girl, but i think it’s coming, hard and fast. That’s also not a penis joke. Lol.
As a recently retired middle school teacher – just a reminder that booze and wine are perfectly acceptable teacher gifts. (I had one student who sat through about 30% of my classes with tears running down her face. When asked she’d always say nothing was wrong. Her mom confirmed that dad wasn’t allowed to speak to her at the dinner table without her having a tantrum. Most of my students were either randy -think dry humping in the halls- or Bitches with a capital B.) Good times.
ha! I don’t know HOW I missed this post before! I can REALLY relate. I have an 11 yo daughter too. And the mood swings. ugh. And lucky for me, she is only the FIRST of 3 girls. Yay! And my 9 yo is already entering the mood-swing phase! I love my life. (<–that comment CAN be taken as "Send me wine." Stat! Lots and lots of it….)
The tweenage beast is like no other. At least you have a few strategies.
(I promise not to call CPS.)
You could always ask Mr.Foxy to build a (meltdown) guest house at the back of you property. Slingshot meals to her and never have to make eye contact or personal contact for at least 6 years.
Ha. I have 7 kids. Age 27 down to 8. Four boys, three girls. Three of the boys are 17 and older…one is 13. Oh. My. God. The boys have all been the hormonal,nightmares. People tell me how awful girls are but my 27 and 23 year old girls took puberty really well, aside from thinking they were going to die when The Flood came every month. My boys were the raging hormonal messes on top of having the guy issues, too. It was not pretty and I am still in the middle of it with the youngest boy. It’s only by the grace of God that they still walk the earth. I think we have gender reversal going on around here, their dad is way more hormonal than I am, too. But I have a feeling that my 8 year old daughter is going to teach me just how bad a teenage girl can be. She came out screaming and having meltdowns and hasn’t let up yet. I should have bought a winery years ago.
Single mom. 10 year old female spawn of Satan. At least twice a week we leave the house in tears. (Yes, both of us.) She unleashed her mighty wrath on the dog last week because somehow having to get up and go to school was the dog’s fault. My fridge stays stocked with wine and I may or may not have an emergency bottle of vodka in my freezer. Cheers to the teenage years!
Holy Hell! You are talking about my 10yr old daughter!!!! She’s 10!!! Shouldn’t I have a few more peaceful years!? I’m not really sure how my liver is going to make it through puberty! And then go through it again with my youngest.