Are You There God? It's Me, Xanax.

(Mommy Disclaimer: My Big Girl is getting her feelings hurt because, to date, I have mostly just published posts about the two little ones. I explained to her that this is because I pretty much only post things that will later be completely embarrassing to them and they will probably hate me for it. She's all about the drama and, therefore, any press is good press. I write the following with her permission...and she chose the picture, too.)

Since My Big Girl is about to turn 11, I pretty much stay in a nervous Aunt Flow mode waiting for her "Are You There God, It's Me, Margaret" moment to arrive. (Boys, you're not going to get the reference unless you've spent at least some portion of your life as a fifth grade girl.) Every time she yells from the bathroom, I run at break-neck speed across the house only to find, to my relief, that she just forgot to get a towel before she got in the shower or something to that effect. I'm really dreading the day. Such unfortunate business and I hate for her to have to deal with it. (I have Yankee family members that practically throw a party for the lucky girl when she starts her "lady's days" and then they go on and on to her about how "wonderful it is" and "you're a woman now." Are you people serious?)

My Big Girl has picked up on my fear and is now starting to toy with me. She ran into the office the other day in a panic and screamed, "Mom! Mom! I started my period!"

I nearly jumped out of my chair, "What? What? What!"

"Just kidding," she smiled. "Can I have some ice cream?"

Sigh. Fan myself. "It's in the freezer."