The other day, I agreed to let my daughter drive to a nearby strip center. Of course, I should have swallowed valium first. She has been driving for a few months now and I didn’t realize that she hadn’t mastered the parking lot. As she drove along looking for a spot, she had no idea that a car was backing out of spot right into our car. Yikes! I held my breath and stomped on the imaginery passenger side brake. Fortunately, my daughter was stepping on the gas and we managed to clear the other car by seconds.
Being the mother of a teen driver is petrifying. I found a blog post by my news pal, Glenna Milberg, so easy to relate to and I’m pretty sure you will too. Here’s a snippet of the post:
Note to my daughters: Did you see it on the newscast?
The pieces of car scattered across 836? Did you see their pictures? The
driver was 17, just like you. She was out loving life with her best girls, I’m sure, just like you do.
I know what you’re thinking (insert eye-roll here). You’re thinking something
like, “(Sigh), here comes another one of my mom’s teachable moments,
another one of her talks, her life-lessons.”
Yes. And I know you are listening. I know it’s sinking in on some level, because
you’ve been getting them your whole life, since the day you started pre-school.
Back then, your little friends’ moms would typically give me “looks” when
I would ask before a play date about a pool fence, any gun in the house, a dog
that might bite.
“Who thinks about that stuff?” they would ask.
I do, because I’ve seen it, covered it, and want to learn from it, that’s why.