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The body book

My parents are into all this teaching about the body thing. They told Brother and I that it’s the age we should learn about it because we will hear things at school or from our friends and they want us to have the right knowledge about it. But I don’t get what could be the wrong knowledge? I started experiencing puberty, says all the books and my dad and mom. Why? Well I have a little few spots on my face (sometimes) and I have a different sort of smell on my body, especially coming from under my arms. Didn’t know that there was even anything under there. But the other day after my shower, I lift up my arms in front of the mirror to brush my hair and… Yikes! Scary! Icky! I’ve got a few hairs under there! Is that puberty too?

Lots of other weird feelings and emotions going on inside of me too; sometimes some growing pains or cramps. I do want to grow up and become beautiful and independent, responsible for my own things so that I don’t have to be told what to do anymore. But, I still want to be young too, to get to play with toys, be babied or given extra attention (and gifts), not have to clean up after myself or learn a whole bunch of things like taking care of my room or cleaning my body and doing my laundry and all that. I guess that’s a bit mixed up cause on one hand I want to be big and grown up so I can use Mom’s clothes and shoes, but then on the other I want to be little and small so I don’t have to fold and put them away or wash them after I use them on. How can I just stay in the middle and have the best of both worlds? Well, I guess I did experience a bit of that lately. Brother has more responsibilities in our house, than I do, cause he’s older, Mom says. He’s waiting for the day that I get to be just as old as him, but he doesn’t realize that I’ll always be a couple years younger, hee.

Mom wants to read this “Girl’s Body” book with me, but I’m just not into that right now. Doesn’t she realize that I want to stay young as long as I can? Because I’ll be old for the rest of my life and I’ll get used to that when I get there. Most of the body stuff, I experience it on my own body anyway. I don’t have to read about someone else’s, do I? Plus, I know God made us all different. No one has exactly the same body type, figure, shape or size. So what is normal for someone else may not even be normal for me. Mom’s such a mom. She wants to help me understand things so that when they come up, I’ll know what to do. But I can always ask her then, can’t I? Thanks Mom, for letting things pass in their good time and for understanding my body needs. I know I can count on you to always be there for me, especially or these “girly” things. But I need some alone time too, without this “body” knowledge getting pushed on me quite yet.

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Not again!

I heard it again! No! Why me? I thought. Dad came to remind me about doing the lunch dishes today, AGAIN! But this time I was busy cleaning and tidying up my room. I was doing a good thing. Why did he have to come and tell me of something else I had to do? I got mad, real mad! I yelled at him and said some pretty bad words that I feel sorry for now. He didn’t mean to get me upset. He probably didn’t even realize that I was doing another “good” thing that he would have been even happy about. It’s not his fault that he came to remind me. It’s a pretty usual thing that has to be done with me anyway. Because, well, I don’t like doing certain things that I have to do.

But then, I shouldn’t have let all these words rush out of my mouth like a tsunami wave or let my temper rise to the third floor of our house. Mom came in to see what happened because she was afraid world war 3 was starting. A little exaggerated of course. But she heard the upset mess too, since she was just next door.

I’ve made up with Dad since. Well, not really officially, but definitely in my heart. Does that count too? I love him so much and he deserves the very best that I can give him. I had lots of time to think about what I said and what I did to him, because I took all afternoon to make him his Christmas gift. What else was I to think about?

Well, I ended up having to do dinner instead because I took too long to get to the kitchen and do the dishes. I would probably not have done a very good job either, still feeling a bit upset about the whole thing. I guess sometimes I just wish I wouldn’t be told what to do all the time. I do most of the time remember what needs to be done, but I just don’t feel like doing it. If I don’t feel like eating snack, I just don’t eat one. If I don’t feel thirsty, I don’t go out of my way to drink water. If I am not dirty, I don’t wash myself. (Oops, don’t tell that one to Mom. It’s just between us here, my diary and I.) Though I guess it doesn’t work with everything. If I don’t feel like doing dishes, I wish there was a button that could just make it all happen by itself, with or without me. We do have a dishwasher that makes things tons easier than last year when we didn’t have one. And all we have to do is push a button and put some dishes and soap in. But maybe I’m getting so used to it now, that anything I need to do in the kitchen is STILL a big job! Pots, pans that don’t fit in the dishwasher, counters and table to clean, sink to wipe, food put-away, etc. etc.

Hummm. I’m thinking about this one! If I want to keep eating, I guess I’ve got to be content with doing the dishes once in a while, shouldn’t I? Eating = dishes. Me eating = Me doing dishes. I’m learning to be happy about this one.