I’ve been the mother to a teenager daughter for several hours. So far, so good.

I have a friend who has two teen daughters, has been a mother to teens for years. She’s way ahead of me in experience. My friend frequently tells me of the angst, drama and emotional horrors that come with teens, especially with girls.

When she gives her speech, going on and on about said horrors and how she might not have become a mother if she had know the tears she would shed over her girls, inwardly I’ve got my hands over my ears and I’m stomping my feet in frustration. (Who did that in books? Was it Ellen Tebbits? I can just see her, droopy socks in saddle shoes, pigtails askew.)

I don’t care much to hear my friend’s negative comments on teen girls. I want to form my own opinions, have my own experiences. Why do I need to expect these years to be hell as a mother?

I think we all know some teens freak out when they get to this age. Some stay the course and remain like normal people. I expect my girl to make mistakes, to have hormones, to be in a place of figuring out who she is because that’s what young people are supposed to do.

I have no intention of hanging her out to dry here, on my public space, when she has no voice to give her side.

All this to say: my firstborn is now what is commonly referred to as in the teen years, aka a teenager. I’m going into this new area of parenting with my heart full of anticipation. I look forward to watching my girl grow into the young lady the Lord would have her to be.

I’m realistic but not defeated before the train has barely left the station.

Thirteen is not three. Three was a tough age with all my kids.

Thirteen will not be the same as fourteen. A lot happens in a year.

All the years beyond this one will only be better in the sense that the both of us will be better at this parent-and-teenager dance. Give and take. Back and forth. She grows. I grow.

We both change.

No one will be able to change my mind on that point.

Are the mom to a teen daughter? Tell me about her.