She's 16 and fabulous

I thought being the mother of a teenager was going to be sheer hell. Now that I'm here, however (my daughter, Sophie, is sweet 16), I can report that, yes, it is hard, but not in the ways that I had feared.

Full of surprises
Like all teenagers, she can be volatile and emotional, and even sometimes annoyingly thoughtless and goofy in the way teens tend to be. (Read about the adolescent mind.) But, in exactly the same complex way that babies who have just learned to walk are simultaneously impossible yet utterly adorable (otherwise you would just put them out on the lawn for pickup, I suspect), she is also this utterly charming and brilliant ball of energy bouncing through our home. Just when she's about to push me past the brink of my admittedly shallow reserve of patience, she'll surprise me with a little drawing or a photo that she knows will amuse me, or simply throw her five-foot-nine frame into my lap. Surprisingly, the hard part about being a parent of a teenager isn't her as much as it is me.

Shifting focus
All my life I have prided myself on being a particularly discerning shopper. Some people may lay claim to more humanitarian, more significant or more useful personal talents, but for me, the ability to spot the perfect doorknob in a pile of end-of-line discards or a Scandinavian enamel pin at a yard sale has been not only a pastime, but also a calling. Lately, though, when I'm doing my thing, I notice that my focus seems to have shifted. Suddenly everything that appeals to me isn't something for me but something fabulous for her. Sophie, that is. Anything in lotus green (which makes me look bilious but flatters Sophie's strawberry blond locks) is a must-have, and a search for vintage cowboy boots (her Holy Grail of fashion) is my mission-to-be-accomplished. And that's even on shopping expeditions without her along, tugging on my arm to convince me to buy her yet another pair of flip-flops. (Read about bonding with your teen.)

And it's not just a shopping problem. Now, when the phone rings, I don't even bother picking it up because I know it will be a call for her, not me. If we are invited anywhere, I now have to check in not only with my busy mate's BlackBerry but also with my daughter's doodled-on day-planner. It's great to see your once-baby daughter scooting around the city with her friends, but, of course, we must always be available for drop-off and pickup. I seem to have acquired a sideline as a cabbie.

It's her time to shine
If life really were a play, my husband and I would no longer be in the spotlight on centre stage, but waiting in the wings, instead. At my daughter's recent school prize day, the gym was packed. I looked around at the other parents admiring their lovely, long-limbed daughters, and I could see that we were all feeling the exact same way. As we took in the sight of all this youth and beauty and promise, and wondered where the time had gone, our throats were tight with emotion. And there was one true, ringing thought that could not be denied: this moment is not ours, but theirs. It's their turn to be 16.

Passing the torch is tough -- given our ridiculous preoccupation with eternal youth and 40 being the new 30. But the great consolation in parenting teenagers is that when you gaze on your hatchling adults, you are almost blinded by their beauty -- the radiance of their youth and all that yet-unfulfilled promise. It's not hell; it's more like heaven -- and what you feel is love.

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