Call Me E.

Call Me E.
all stories and essays by Sean Rein

She's 13...
That's what I keep telling myself. She's 13. I am the parent of a female child who is 13 years old. Every mood swing, every temper tantrum, and every time she LOVES me so much that she can't stop hugging me, it's because she's 13. There are days when she cannot walk past me without punching me? You know why. She's 13.

When I was 13, I didn't understand girls at all. I was a big, fat dork who was into Legos and watching wrestling on TV. I didn't have a clue. Girls liked horses, friendship pins, and Seventeen magazine. I didn't know anything about that stuff and didn't care. Now that I am a grown man, I still don't understand women who are my own age, let alone this thing that is 13.

There are long stretches of time where she can be really cool. Right now she is reading a book that I suggested to her, and we probably discuss it at length when she's done with it. These times are great, and, as a parent, I will cherish them for a long time. However, most of the time I feel like a big-game hunter: at any moment she could turn and attack me because I looked at her wrong or the meal I cooked wasn't to her liking. Then it's "Aaaaah! I hate you!" And she will lumber into her bedroom and slam the door. Five minutes later, she will be out in the kitchen, fixing herself something to eat, singing a song. She's 13.

All 13-year-old girls think that they have a future in the entertainment business as a singer.

Growing up, my family lived next door to the Schneiders. Wayne Schneider was married and had 2 daughters—the poor bastard. Wayne smoked a pipe and spent a lot of time in the garage. I always liked going over to talk to Mr. Schneider in his garage. He was never really fixing or building anything, but, out there, he was in a good mood and was just putzing around instead of being in the house where, at some point in his life, his daughters were 13.

I have two sisters that are younger than I am. When they hit 13, I was getting busy with my own life, and I don't really remember what they were like. I was in college and working a job to try to pay for it. I don't remember much of their 13 phase and needed some advice on how to cope, so I asked my mother.

"Mom, what were my sisters like when they were 13?"
"Megan's 13, huh?"
"Yes, mom, Megan is 13."
"Mmmmm, 13. There was the one Thanksgiving when your sister was 13. She only came out of her room to eat the meal. As soon as she was done, she went right back in. We didn't see her again that day and your Aunt Mary was furious with me for letting that happen."
"But, mom, wasn't Aunt Mary 13 once?"
"Yup, pass Momma the brandy."

So there it is, it's universal. All women were 13 and acted like it. Ladies, if you don't believe me, ask you mothers and especially ask your fathers what you were like. They will hopefully tell you the truth, which, I have a feeling, is far different from what you remember.

As for me, like Wayne Schneider, I'll be out in the Men's Crisis Center if you need me.