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For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.  No one knows this better than the mother of a teenager, and no one anticipates the learning curve ahead like the mother of a ‘tween.

Heaven help me.

Five months and two short weeks ago my daughter got her ears pierced.  The golden rule of newly pierced ears, according to the all-knowing lady with the piercing gun, is that you do not go without sterling, stainless or gold post earrings for at least six months.  Personally, I am and always have been a hard and fast rule follower. Yet somehow, I failed to share that gene with my daughter.

By the way, dear readers, do you know how long six months is to an almost-eleven-year-old?  For-EV-er.

In the past four weeks Vic has wrangled, bargained and begged to dip into forbidden fruit early.  To wear hook earrings for just a few hours at a time.  To don costume jewelry full of God-knows-what nasty pseudo-metals.  And today, she asked to go to school without earrings.  I just about lost it.  “You begged to get your ears pierced, couldn’t wait to wear earrings, and now you want to ditch them before the initiation period is over?!!  Wear the dang earrings!!”

And then I hear the sage advice of other mothers: pick your battles.

We had already battled earlier this weekend when she sprung not one but TWO events on me.  One was a slumber party that was scheduled to start two-and-a-half hours from the moment I learned about it.  (That’s a Hell No, in case you were wondering.)  And just when I thought I had gotten through, that she understood without exception that I don’t do last minute, she came at me the next night with a school dance that was to start within four hours.  I grabbed a book and headed out to the patio chair to keep from going into an all-out rage, leaving Dom to explain to her what she should have learned from the slumber party invitation fiasco the night before.

When I fail to handle situations properly, Dom is always there to take the reins.  I am so grateful for that.  Because if he hadn’t been there to casually step in and offer his thoughts on the matter (and back me up, I might add), she would have followed me out onto the patio to plead her case, and I would have morphed into The Hulk.

Spontaneous Mom Hulk.  That’s what I’ve become, folks.

Now, put your earrings back in before I rupture a vein, please.