Twelve is the new 13!

Or should I say 10 or 11?!? That's about the time that my daughter started turning on me...I am absolutely wracking my brain to remember myself acting like this at such a young age, and I'm coming up with a blank. I KNOW I was a hormone-possessed-crazed-loon-drama-queen for a couple of years there; I am just pretty sure I didn't start so early! I really think I was closer to 13 or 14 when I started to flip out.
The one person I could ask doesn't really remember...My mom is blessed with the most selective memory you can imagine--she only remembers GOOD stuff! (Wouldn't that be awesome?!? ) So imagine my surprise last year when she brought up the infamous most-daring thing I ever tried (that she knew of, that is). I don't know how or why we were at the point of screaming at one another with such venom and force, but when I was about 13, my mom and I were going at it one night, just inches apart, when I called her THE "B" WORD! I think it took her about 2 seconds to crack me across the face--the one and only time I remember her backhanding me. I raised my hand to hit her back and one of my brothers stopped me, which is a good thing because I'm pretty sure she'd have beat me senseless! *whew* My mom laughs about it now--both at my audacity and her quick reflexes. (You ought to see that woman trying to use an ATM machine! Zzzzzz)
I know that this moody-bordering-on-psychotic behavior I'm now on the receiving end of is normal, but it's really taxing. My girl has never been sugar and spice--in fact, even from a young age I referred to her as my "sweet & sour girl." She's tough and opinionated and smart and witty and doesn't take any bull. She has never gotten in any trouble at school and tested ridiculously high on her gifted and talented program qualifiers last school year (if I may brag a bit.) She is awesome! And mean! And dramatic! And short-tempered!
I really think that a great deal of our personalities are nurture, versus nature. She's grown up with a brother who is 2.5 years older than her, and try as she might, she will never catch him or pass him up. The second she learned to crawl, she went straight to the wall to try to pull up and start walking. She potty trained herself at age 2 on the dot. (I'm so blessed!) She was reading at age 4 and I have no idea how because I didn't teach her that early! But he was a challenging child, especially for the first five years of his life, and she figured out quickly that the squeaky wheel got the oil. (By the way, "oil" was the first word she ever wrote, in sidewalk chalk on the front walk. I have a picture of it somewhere.) When she'd throw huge fits I always thought, "she learned from the master."
She started talking a lot later than he did (age 2 instead of age 10 months, which was when he started saying words; he was speaking in sentences by 18 months), and she had a speech problem. She talked a lot like Elmer Fudd. A lot of people couldn't understand what she was saying, and since her name has an L and an R, they always said, "What?" when she said it. In kindergarten a teacher asked her her name and was told, "Never mind--I can't say it anyway." (By the time I convinced anyone to test her for speech therapy, she had grown out of the impediment.) I am convinced that that shaped her intolerance for having to repeat or explain things to this very day!
Anyway, I am grateful for this beautiful, healthy, intelligent girl.
I just look forward to the day that she'll be able to tolerate me again!