Sunday, my son drove me to the grocery store. It was just the two of us, but when it finally dawned on me that he was driving me and I was sitting there with my purse on my lap, looking out the window and seeing what I could see, it as surreal. I pictured myself 50 years from now, when he’s driving me, not because he’s learning, but because I won’t be able to drive myself.
Of course, I’m banking on him not leaving at the age of 18 and never coming back. I’m banking on him continuing to be who he is now, and loving me enough to take care of me and not dump me in a nursing home and never come visit.
(I can’t believe the people that do this!)
Do you know that this is probably my biggest fear? That I will scar my children so much that they will never talk to me when they leave home? Before the hubs came along, I was scared it would just be me and a bunch of cats. At least now, I can rule out the cats because the hubs is severely allergic.
But on the whole, Thing 1 is doing well with his driving. HAving his permit four weeks now, he’s got over 10 hours of driving with almost 3 of them at night. He’s driven on the interstate, through the hood, in the rain, and in other places. And for the most part, I’ve been okay with this.
I work hard to not scream at the top of my lungs and freak out. I don’t want to freak him out.
In fact, I can’t believe how calm I’ve been.
Except that one time when the hubs was in the passenger seat, Thing 1 was trying to change lanes, and I saw nothing by tractor trailer headlights staring me in the face.
I don’t do well in the back seat.
At all.
For whatever reason, I feel like I have some control in the front passenger seat, but none in the back seat – which is completely ridiculous because we all know that I have no control anywhere.
But the back seat is REALLY hard for the control freak.
Really hard.
So many times, I play on my phone, or close my eyes and rest my head against the window. If I’m not seeing what’s going on, it doesn’t bother me as much.
It’s a weird thing, really. Like I said, I feel like he’s been driving for so much longer than four weeks, and he’s doing a great job, but I just can’t handle it.
That and sitting in the back of a van with squealing girls?
Earbuds are a gift from God.
I did tell Thing 1 that he could drive me to the Piggly Wiggly in 50 years but I wouldn’t sit in the back seat. I got that blank, are you talking to me, 15-year-old stare.
I’m guessing it was for one of two reasons… he either (a) isn’t planning on ever driving me anywhere in 50 years (oh how I wish we had a Piggly Wiggly) or (b) has no idea who Miss Daisy is and therefor didn’t get my comment.
I’m banking on the latter.
How about you? What parent of a new driver tips do you have? OR if you don’t have a child driving yet, what are some of the fears you have about life as your children grow older?
Until next time…
With my first, my biggest fear was that I would pour my soul into this beautiful baby girl, and somehow, some day, she would push me aside, reject me, and she would hate me. Basically I projected the relationship I had with my mother, onto myself and my daughter. Well the push aside and reject thing – totally happened. Pretty sure putting your mom in the second row, sans escort down the aisle the mom usually gets at a wedding, while putting your dad who was absent emotionally, physically, and financially, got front and center with his current wife, yeah. So I sat behind her dad and his third wife. Kind of hard to come back from that. Does she know the impact of this? Doubt it, she certainly never heard about it from me.
On the other hand, my biggest fear with my second has been all the things that go through a parent’s mind when they don’t know if their child will be able to function in a normal life, be healthy, happy, be safe, find love, have a career, have children. Normal parents think that, but with the degree of difficulty we had in the first 12 years, I had a pretty scary picture of our future.
However, although my relationship with my daughter devastates me, I am finding that I am not ONLY defined as a mother. If I spend 20ish years as a mom, that still leaves another 20 more as… what? That’s where I am today. That saying “finding myself”? I think that’s what happens as they start to leave the nest.
Back to my second child, my fears are being blown to bits. God has provided an environment where he can and has been growing into a man I never thought would be attainable. It makes my later years look a lot different.
So, as for expectations – can go either way.
And I, for the record, would prefer to be in a nursing home. Just ship me away and go on with life, Working in medical care, I see how long and emotionally painful that part of life can be to families.