What is with girls these days? And by these days, I mean since the dawn of time. I was doing some work around the house the other day when the phone rang. I didn’t even bother to attempt to answer it since my 11 year old daughter was in the house. It doesn’t surprise me in the least that the age of the phone planted to her ear has arrived in the house. I’m ok with that. Within 30 seconds of her phone conversation I hear her dishing about how so and so was online and talking trash about so and so. “She really said that. Can you believe that?” I hear. “I know I know right?” I hear.

Listening to this one sided conversation coming from my 11 year old had me disturbed.  I’m not sure if I was more disturbed by her ending every sentence with “I know, right” or by the nature of the call. It is becoming more and more apparent that my 11 year old is one of those girls. And by one of those girls, I mean the gossipy, all about appearance, totally superficial type of girl. One of those girls. I can’t stand it.

I have prided myself on being an open parent. I have prided myself on teaching both my son and girls the importance of empathy. The importance of humanity. That we are all of the same earth. That though we look different we are all unique and of value. Blah, blah, blah. And I have Cher from Clueless as my daughter. I don’t get it. What am I doing wrong?

As I listened to this conversation, aghast, I grabbed my cell phone. I cowered in my bathroom in my bedroom, otherwise known as the “safe place” and called my friend Cynthia to report that my daughter is one of those girls. In heated whisper so as not to be detected by infiltrators outside the locked bathroom door, I repeated the listened in on phone call. “She really said that! Can you believe that?” I whispered frantically to Cynthia. “I know I know right!” I was on the phone with Cynthia locked in my own bathroom for over an hour rehashing every detail of my daughter’s transgression. Believe me; the irony is not lost on me.

What is with us women? Why do we bond over trashing each other? Why can we not wait to share the first sordid detail of any bad news? As open as I am. As empathetic and humanitarian as I am, I am one of those girls. I’m not proud of this fact. I’m certainly not jumping for joy that I’ve created a monster in my own image.

But sad to say, I do have a lot of fun with my daughter. Walking the mall commenting on bad hair. Bad outfits. Bad manners. Reading magazines together. Commenting on the latest celeb gossip. Going to Starbucks for a chai tea, (she’s only 11, I’m not getting her hopped up on caffeine) and chattering about nothingness, fluff. I'm not saying it's right but I don't know that I'm saying it's wrong either.  We parents are typecast as the heavy. We have to be, it’s part of the job. I can do heavy. I nag, complain, critique and criticize with the best of them. But isn’t it important to bond as well? Isn’t it good for our souls to dish? I wish we women could get the same sense of community and connectedness from hashing out world peace. But let’s face it, we don’t. Or most of us don’t. If you are one who does, I bow down to you.

Maybe the best we can hope for is to mix in some good with the not so good. After all, isn’t that the point? To accept each other and ourselves for what we are? The good, the bad and the ugly?