Pre-tween Ceilidh

It seems like only yesterday that I had a little girl with unruly hair, chubby cheeks and twinkling eyes who would dance for a potato chip. Now, I've got a pre-tween daughter who is almost as tall as me, who is spending hours curling her hair and putting together outfits, and constantly on You Tube. Her friends are calling on the phone, and she's asking me to buy her shoes with heels! A cookie or juice from Starbucks is no good enough. Now, she's ordering a cotton candy frappuccino with whipped cream. It's not even on the menu board."It's on the secret menu, Mom. Everyone knows that!" she states while rolling her eyes. Clearly, I am not cool enough to know that.
I am not ready to be a mother to a teenager. My oldest child who is only a year from that has not given me any cause for concern, yet.
But all of a sudden, I find myself shopping for training bras, at the request of pre-tween, and I am in shock. What happened to my little girl who liked frilly dresses and Barbie dolls? Where is the toddler who would dance, in a diaper, to ACDC's You Shook Me All Night Long with the innocence that only a child can? Who took away the child whose eyes grew to the size of saucers when a tub of Cool Whip and a spoon were placed in front of her? (It was easier than constantly scooping a dollop, that kept disappearing, onto her tiny slice of pie.)
Ceilidh was my easy child. The one who actually slept 6 hours a night when she was 8 weeks old. She was difficult to potty train but night time training was not an issue. She did not want to poop in the toilet, and I remember watching her like a hawk all day. Of course, the minute my attention was diverted by a wailing infant or I had to answer the phone, she'd scurry to a corner and poop in her pull-up. When she was tired, she'd crawl up the stairs to bed or curl up on the couch and simply fall asleep. There were no big productions of fighting bed time.
Unlike Devlin, I rarely had to cajole her to practise the piano. She doesn't need much prompting to do her homework, and she devours books at such a rate that I am Amazon's most loyal customer. Where she gained the flair for creativity, I don't quite know. Ceilidh can spend hours patiently and meticulously creating a school project.
She's the more mature child, and generally speaking, the more responsible one. If I have to leave the house for short period of time, I ask her, not her older brother, to keep an eye on Quinn. She's still the tallest too.
She dislikes competitive sports and anything that seems to require physical exertion, other than dance. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Ceilidh was the always the lazy one, who figured out a unqiue method of motoring about that was a semi crawl, semi scooch around on her bum. We called it the crab crawl. She disliked mini golf because it made her sweaty. Soccer games were about picking flowers and twirling around the goal post. There wasn't much interest in chasing after the ball, which frustrated her daddy to no end. Especially given her long legs and the ability to run fast, if she truly tried. While the other three play hockey, Ceilidh is not interested. It's boring. And cold. Her progress in Tae Kwon Do has come to a halt because she refuses to spar.
I've enrolled her in Korean language lessons as she's got an aptitude for learning. It's also part of her cultural heritage. I'm hoping her initial frustrations at not understanding the teacher will ease and she'll learn to ignore the annoying boys in her class.
Over the past year, we've noticed some changes in her attitude that we haven't liked. Sometimes we wonder if it's the influence of her friends. Her dismissive and impatient attitude with her younger sister irks me.  As an oldest sibling, I so understand that younger sisters can be annoying. But Aisling idolizes her older sister and brother. She wants to be a great skater like Devlin on the ice and she wants to dance like Ceilidh. Now she wants to take singing lessons too, just like her older sister.
Sometimes I wonder if because she was the easy child, and didn't need as much discipline, that Ceilidh thinks she can get away with pretty much anything. I can tell you that is certainly not the case.
A few weeks ago, Devlin was too ill for school. Ceilidh decided that she wasn't going to school either. Not because she had nothing to wear. Not because she was ill. Not because she wasn't getting along with her BFF. Ceilidh was refusing to get dressed for school because she didn't like the snack Daddy put in her lunch! To top it all off, Quinn decided he wasn't going to school either, if his big sister wasn't going. Of course, she went to school, but her stunt caused her to be late, and she lost her allowance.
If her silent glares, stomping feet and slumped shoulders are a sign of the times to come, then I've decided that I am moving out. She's only 10 now, but I've heard this is nothing compared to the true hormonal rages that are soon to occur.
I still see my little baby girl every once in a while. Ceilidh is the one child child who craves bear hugs and needs to be cuddled. Her eyes still light up when a bag of chips is opened. She still bites her nails. When she's feeling ill, she sobs. And when she's happy and excited, she still hops around while clapping her hands.
I'm not prepared for teenaged angst. But I suspect my little baby girl is more than ready to embrace it.