I’m still getting used to being the mom to a teenage girl. Yes I know, it’s not like it snuck up on me. I’ve been a mom to a teenager since June. When did this happen? How can I possibly be the mother to an 8th grader who is taller than me and a 5th grader whose shoe size has now surpassed mine? Weren’t we just taking the girls to their first concert, a rockin’ Saturday afternoon  up close and personal with the Wiggles?

I knew the day (or night to be more precise) would come when I’d be waiting up for my kids, wondering when I’d hear them at the front door and honestly on a lamer note, wondering when I could get to sleep. I’m starting to have flashbacks to my own middle school years and also realizing how archaic I sound to my girls when I tell them stories about how back in my middle school years there were no iPhones or Instagram.

Miss C, my 8th grader, is a social girl and typically gets invited to a lot outings. Last  night she was invited at the very last minute to see Ariana Grande downtown at Bridgestone Arena, the big event for the evening for tween and teen girls, especially. Her friend had a free ticket, the friend’s mom had offered to provide Miss C with a ride home, and her dad and I agreed if she was on stellar behavior mode this week and was truly appreciative of us saying yes and didn’t miss the bus this morning it was ok with us. Some of my fondest memories of my teen years involve concert experiences and a concert downtown at the arena is a big deal at any age. I knew she would have a blast with her friends.

So I spent the night waiting for Miss C to text me pictures from the concert and stalking her Instagram account. And then I Googled Ariana Grande because I was curious about her age and realized that I had already graduated from college and had started my career when Ariana Grande was in diapers.

 One of my girl’s pics from the Ariana Grande concert at Bridgestone.