The Art of Growing Up

A couple of weeks ago, Malynn got "the talk" at school; not THE talk, just the talk about her advancing maturity.  It has brought about a flurry of discussion.  I understand the intentions of this program, but much like the stranger danger talks, instead of empowering the kids through knowledge, it freaks the kids out.  We NEEDED to pack her an emergency bag immediately.  "It" could happen any day now.  So instead of getting the message that her hygiene habits need to change (like bathing more frequently than once a week or changing her socks), all she came away with was how embarrassing it would be to start her period at school and not be prepared with a month's worth of pads. 
I've been thinking of how I need to work with her the next few years.  We are too much the same person and are frequently at odds-- screaming, stomping feet, slamming doors odds.  Unfortunately it is not all on her side.  Since I'm right (of course I am), it's hard for me to back down.  Since she's young, it's hard for her to stop.  I know I'm the adult.  That makes it all the harder.
Life with kids is hard. I've determined to make it harder than necessary because that's just how I roll.  I'm anal enough to want things done a certain way.  I'm lazy enough to not teach them step by step.  I am very familiar with the saying "If you want something done right, do it yourself".  I find myself cleaning their pits of despair, doing their dishes jobs, constantly sorting and washing and putting away their laundry.  Why?  Because it's easier for me to do it than to fight them and I know that if I put the laundry away, chances are the next time I see the clothes on the floor, it's because they've been worn, not because they went directly from the clean basket and onto the bed to be knocked to the floor and trampled on while carrying a crumbly cookie and wearing muddy boots.  Dan keeps reminding me of the disservice I am doing them and that my own room looks like a pit of despair because I am constantly cleaning up after them. 
Sorry.  I got side tracked.  Malynn.  Maturity.  Yesterday she was going through the list of things I need to teach her about growing up.  Yes. Yes. and Yes.  We'll go through all of those things.  Then she asked me when I would show her how to shave her face.  What?  We had talked about shaving armpits and legs and that I would show her how to do these things when the time came.  I told her that she didn't need to shave her face.  I'm sure she envisioned herself all hairy and werewolf looking, when she panicked and said, "But you do."  What?!  "When have you ever seen me shave my face?!"  Sure, I get my brows waxed and have a few pesky hairs growing out of moles on my chin and neck that get plucked, but I've never, ever shaved my face.  After I calmed down a bit, it was discovered that my razor in the shower had given her the idea that I was quietly swiping away my beard every morning.  Uh, no.  That will be one to laugh about for awhile. 
Meanwhile, on to the adventure of teaching Malynn how to make delicacies like Bisquick biscuits and macaroni and cheese and chocolate chip cookies and how to crochet and do laundry and clean a bathroom properly.  It will be fun, right?