I Have a Teenage Daughter

  I have a teenage daughter--she's thirteen, almost fourteen.  I am officially an MOTG (mom of a teenage girl).  I'm working on a better acronym.
  Now, if you have a teenage daughter, have been a teenage daughter, or know someone who is a mother of a teenage daughter, or frankly if you just know a teenage girl, you probably have that look on your face right now.  You probably didn't even realize it came over you--it just comes instinctively.  It's that look of sympathy combined with exhilaration, fear and exhaustion.
  For some reason, I have found that the mere mention of a teenage daughter in conversation provokes some sort of reaction amongst, well, almost anyone.
  When you talk to a fellow MOTG, you get immediate support for any injustice your child may or may not have committed.  Moms share stories.  If you don't have a good one, your friends will tell you theirs (it's almost like a blood sport--everyone's got a story that's worse than the previous one).  And at the end of their stories they will tell you with no uncertainty (and a little bit of badly masked joy) that their stories WILL BE your stories--it's only a matter of time.
  When you talk to those who have never had a teenage daughter (they only have boys, or their girls are still toddlers), their thoughts immediately go all Pollyanna on you.  They will ask you, with a lilt in their voices and an innocent smile on their faces, if it's so fun to go shopping together and share makeup and girl talk and give boyfriend advice.  They want to know if you share clothes and shoes.  Your reality is not even in the same dimension as what they perceive to be your reality.  You just have to listen, smile, pretend.  Nothing you say will convince them that teenage girls are not all Disney princesses.
  When you talk to dads they go all second amendment on you and divulge what kinds and how many weapons they have in the house, and exactly what they will do with those weapons should a boy choose to throw a glance in the wrong direction.  And they will wrap up their discourse by telling you, in a slightly hushed voice, that they were once teenage boys themselves and they know EXACTLY what all boys are thinking and EXACTLY what all teenage boys would like to do with and/or to their daughters.  They will also let you in on the fact that they will wait up for their daughters to arrive home when their daughters begin dating (which according to most dads will be when they turn 29).
  Now, I will admit that as an MOTG (still working on that acronym...) I have certainly had my share of stereotypical experiences.  We've argued over clothing styles.  We've tussled over curfews.  We've squabbled about her messy room.  We've had "the talk".  We've debated the right age to be allowed to wear makeup and dangly earrings.  We've discussed the purpose of the entire movie rating system and the philosophy behind PG-13.  But isn't that to be expected?  Kids of certain ages go through certain stages.  We've all read the parenting magazines--we should know what's coming down the pike shouldn't we?  Knowing what's ahead and preparing for it is responsible parenting.
  What I could never have prepared for, however, is watching my daughter, as she enters her teen years, transform into the most amazing young woman I could ever hope to know.  Seemingly against all odds (according to MOTG's everywhere), I have a teenage daughter who is polite, and not just to her own friends, but to everyone.  She can carry on a conversation with my best friend just as easily as she can carry on a conversation with her own best friend.  She makes eye contact.  She listens.  She asks engaging questions and even provides answers that go beyond the monotone "yeah" or "nah".
  I have a teenage daughter who, while she will not necessarily offer you a bite of the cookie she just nabbed out of the just-opened package (she enjoys her sugar in a way that can only be described as euphoric), if it is the LAST cookie in the box, she will ask you if you want the whole thing.
  I have a teenage daughter who went to a birthday party at her friend's house.  They watched a very scary, gory movie, which she had no idea they were going to watch.  When I picked her up late in the evening, she got into the car and, as the door closed, she burst into tears.  Between sobs, she told me that the movie was really gross and bloody and she did not want to watch it.  I asked her why she didn't call me to come and get her.  Still crying, she explained that it was her friend's birthday, and she did not want to be rude.
  I have a teenage daughter who last week, on a Saturday when she could have been out hanging with her friends, gathered her mom, dad and big brother onto the couch next to her and put in an old home-movie of our family from when she and her brother were toddlers.  We watched that DVDall together, laughing so hard at some moments that we couldn't catch our breath.  One particular scene of an Easter morning will be quoted in our family for years to come (hearing your 13 year old ask you, at the most sarcastically opportune moment, "You know who's proud of you, Mom?  Jesus is," makes you simultaneously laugh out loud and realize that your kids in fact do listen to you and they do pick up on your irreverent attitudes, for better or worse).
  I have a teenage daughter who is fun to be around.  Apparently that is rare.  I've heard people talk about what nightmares teenage daughters are, how disrespectful they can be.  Those words have never crossed my mind to describe mine.  I would choose, instead, the following words: kind, generous, big-hearted, compassionate, forgiving, smart, persistent, conscientious, talented, supportive, funny beyond belief.
  I have a teenage daughter who says "I love you" as she walks out the door for school, when she leaves to go on a bike ride, when her dad leaves for a meeting, when her brother goes to spend the night at a friend's house, as she's about to hang up the phone with her grandparents.
  I have a teenage daughter who, every single night as I tuck her into bed, says "Best mommy ever!"
  And my response, from my heart every single night, will always be, "Best Bia in the world!"

  I've given the acronym thing (MOTG) as much consideration as it's going to get, and I've decided that there is no acronym that rightly describes my situation.  I think that I will, simply and very proudly, call myself Olivia's mom.