Please Stop Saying "Just Wait" To Moms Of Tween Girls

I’ve heard a lot of bullsh*t as a mom to three girls. “Oh, your poor husband! He’s going to have to build himself a man cave.” “Bless you when they all hit puberty; you’ll be in for it.” “Better start saving for those weddings now.” I know people think they’re being funny, but it’s so full of gross misogyny that it’s impossible to see the “joke.” But the worst is what people have been saying to me lately, after they hear that my oldest is about to turn 11.

They will make a face (you know the one) imagining a tween daughter in the house, and I’m always quick to say, “She’s so fun. I loved her baby and toddler and little kid stages so much, but this age she’s at now is so good.” I will go on and on about how funny and smart she is, how she shares all her opinions and thoughts with me, how she knows about current events, and how she has developed a whole personality full of courage, vigor, and conviction. And someone will hear all of this beauty — all of this joy and love and happiness — I share about my oldest daughter and smirk and say, “Just wait.”

And I am begging everyone to stop.

I know exactly what they mean, but I make them say it. “Just wait for what?” I ask. For her to get even better? For her to keep growing into the exact type of human the world needs? For her to become kinder and smarter and stronger?

She’ll change, they tell me. You think you like her now, but just wait. She’ll be slamming doors, sneaking out, and acting like you’re the stupidest person she’s ever met.

It’s the worst of the worst things people have said to me about raising daughters.

Why do we do this? Why do we try and talk parents out of their joy? Why do we want to convince them that this happy spot they’re in, with this kid they love so much, isn’t going to last? Why do we want them to dread the future?

Believe it or not, we know things could change. We know that our tween girls are still growing, that their personalities may shift, that things that feel important to them now won’t matter in five years. We know everything is a stage, a blip, a phase.

But we also know our daughter. And we know their heart and who they are, and we know that, no matter what, we will love this girl as fully and fervently as we do now. When we talk about her, our faces will still light up with joy because we will still find her as bright, kind, and lovely as ever.

She’s ours. There’s nothing to “just wait” for — she’s here. And just as I loved her during her 4-month-old sleep regressions, her 3-year-old meltdowns, and her 7-year-old sassiness, I will love her 11-year-old sighs and her 13-year-old eye rolls.

My friends who have tween sons say they never hear this. “Boys love their moms” is the phrase I always hear, but those of us with daughters are supposed to brace ourselves for pure hatred to come spewing out of our girls’ eyes the minute they hit puberty. The “just wait” reminder when we talk about how cool our girls are is laced with misogyny, meant to have us backtracking and remembering how people really feel about women. (It’s not good, friends.)

But, like my girl, I refuse to listen to any of it. Because every new age of my kid has been my favorite — because she is my favorite. And while middle school is tough and puberty is tough and growing pains are tough, through it all, she is still the same little girl I fell in love with the minute I met her.

And I don’t have to wait for that.