EOS...not just a lipgloss...

EOS is End of Summer. And it's that lip stuff that comes in the pod like container. There are approximately 10 of these in various colors rolling around my house and car. Most unrealistic packaging gimmick I have ever seen.

But End of Summer....yes. It’s over, according to the calendar. But I live in Northern CA and the next two months typically have THE BEST weather of the year. So this Labor Day calls for high 80's. I will probably wear white just to mess with the etiquette police.

My best memory of the summer has not popped into my head. About 6 "worst" memories instead flooded my brain. That is the head space I am in.

Both of my daughters changed this summer. Both of them fully embraced their "teenager hood" with attitudinal, physical and emotional changes that neither delighted nor entertained me. My husband pretty much checked out and started praying. And threatening. Oh yes, there was lecturing. Lots of lecturing. Nothing against his coping mechanism. I am not here to brag about mine. You can guess though...

Crying. Begging. The silent treatment. Lots of holding my head in my hands and sitting in a darkened room. Full on. Full out. D*R*A*M*A*.....

I read a post about the Middle School Brain. Heady stuff I tell you. Why this wasn't written before the FDOS, I have no bloody idea. Really could have used the valuable info about 2 months ago. Thanks a lot Michelle Icard of the Washington Post. I blame you.

At around the age of 11, kids’ brains start undergoing some amazing, albeit messy, reorganization. The prefrontal cortex, responsible for impulse control, critical thinking and evaluating other people’s emotions (to name just a few of its important jobs) goes on vacation during the teen years. That’s when the amygdala or emotional center of the brain, kindly takes over the decision-making department. This makes perfect sense when you consider how impulsive, reactive and dramatic middle-schoolers can be. It’s not a fluke that kids become more impulsive in middle school. As tweens prepare to take their first big steps on the path toward independent thoughts and behavior, the adolescent brain can’t be dedicated to worrying about risk. Becoming an independent adult, after all, requires a lot of bravery, something impulse control tends to squelch. Put plainly, if your kid’s prefrontal cortex were highly functioning throughout adolescence, she would never consider leaving the comfort of home for college. Why should she take that risk when everything she needs to survive is at her fingertips under your roof? So, if you and your tween are staring down the reality of life in middle school, start welcoming the changes coming your way, and not dreading them. Let them sing. Let them go Goth. Let them wear shorts all winter long. They’re just trying to figure out who they are, and that’s hard work. They’ll be grateful you’re by their side when all that work is done.

I am purposefully withholding my GRATITUDE until I survive all this AMYGDALA dominance. I feel all shaky. Quaky even. (No veiled reference to last week's earthquake)

I do not have the skills I tell you. Major life changes do not thrill me. I need a slow simmer before the pot starts boiling and bubbling over all over my dream life.

Quitting sports. Watching endless hours of some bullshit show called "Pretty Little Liars" and then (although I have never seen a single episode of this drivel) behaving like "nasty little brats" for about 600 million hours per day. <-----exaggeration? I think NOT! Cursing. Yes. Bad words came out of those mouths. Eye rolls that rival any disdain I could possible summon on my own....and trust me, I have practice being disdainful. Impenetrable I tell you. Fully insolent. Gut wrenching.

And NOW...back to school madness. Boy drama. Friend issues. Forgetfulness. Where are my baby girls? What has this Amygdala done with my sweet children?

One word replies where there used to be soliloquies. Going straight to their bedrooms to "do homework". It is laughable if I were not sobbing.

Yo, brain chemistry; get the F out of my house. You suck.

And to my daughters: summer is over, mom is not going quietly. Sticking around and being, as you like to say "stalker-ish", until I decide you are ready to fly. Did you get that? I decide.

Burst my bubble and I will lose it. I mean obviously I have a firm grasp on it now.

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