It has finally happened. Taylor got her driving permit. If you have never experienced this next level of hell, I am here to explain to you how this terrifying event works.
I decided before Taylor would officially become a driver, I would do the kind thing and show her how to actually use a car before I let her dive into drivers education, because let’s face it-there is no way I am going to teach that kid important lessons like parallel parking or driving on the freeway. I do not have a death wish. But, I thought it would be important to understand that you don’t just put a car into drive and hit the gas.
I tried to think back to the terrifying moments in my own drivers ed class, my own driving inexperience combined with two other teenagers in training. I was so glad I didn’t have to get behind the wheel first because I had no idea even where to start. I didn’t want her to be THAT kid. So, I decided I would pre-teach her how to drive.
We are fortunate enough to have a long driveway so she can get some practice steering and braking. Believe me when I say teach your kid to brake appropriately so you or the other passengers do not end up going through the windshield or gliding into the center of traffic because the driver is too afraid to stop for fear of sending everyone through the windshield. It is all about balance and teenagers do not understand this delicate line.
I was patting myself on the back as a cool parent for letting her drive down the driveway, teaching her how to back into my extra wide parking space, and playing with important features like the mirrors, the headlights, the blinkers, and the seatbelt. I even let her drive down our short private road with next to zero cars on it. Yes, she almost took out the entire group of mailboxes when I was dumb enough to let her pull up to get the mail. Yes, she almost ran into the gate because she was afraid to brake too hard. Yes, she almost backed into Cassie’s house when she wasn’t paying attention to the fact that the car was in reverse and hit the gas. But those all were “almost” situations, so no harm, no foul.
And then…she got the permit. She was excited. I was excited. We shared this wonderful milestone and then out of nowhere I realize – OH, SHIZ with a capital T! This just became real. I could let her drive on an actual road with me in the car if I wanted. She got this gleam of hope in her eye when she hinted she should drive home from the market.
Was I really ready to put this kid on a road where the shoulder is so narrow that one jumpy jerk would send her and my car into a deep ditch which looks expensive to get out of. Add into the equation the people driving at least 50 miles per hour on the small windy country road. Finally add in that we are usually coming home in the dark. She wanted to drive IN THE DARK on this crazy road the first time she would drive on an actual street. Cool mom or not, I will remind you I do not have a death wish. So, I did what any good mom would do and I started utilizing classic avoidance techniques.
“Mom, can I drive?” —-No, you woke up late.
“Mom, can I drive down the road?” —- Not today honey, I am hungry and I want to get home.
“Mom, next time I get to drive…” — Oh, no, no, no honey. You are mistaken. You don’t get to drive until your room is clean, so you might as well invest in a bus pass or get cool friends who keep their room clean.
(Girl kid sitting in the car, seatbelt on, mirrors and seat adjusted looking hopeful and happy as she just now expects to drive down the driveway) — GET OUT OF THE DRIVER’S SEAT! I AM LATE BECAUSE YOU TWO MUPPETS WOULDN’T WAKE UP AND I NEED TO GET TO WORK AND I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR YOU TO PRACTICE ON THE DRIVEWAY! (meanwhile, knowing full well that I was the one who slept in, took my sweet time getting ready and ultimately lost track of time.) Sorry, not sorry kid. Sometimes I am an asshat. It’s okay. One day you will be too.
Then she realizes what I am doing. She calls me out on it. She uses my words and actions against me!
I let her pull in the driveway at night and let her back up into my parking spot. Rob was home and his giant man truck was parked next to me. He wanders out of the garage to see what is happening AND. I. PANIC!
ME! Not the teenager who could back up into the truck if she goes too far one way or hit a tree and some bushes if she goes too far the other way. ME! I am grabbing the door handle. I am shouting at her. Check your mirrors! Use the back up camera! Don’t rely on just your mirrors. Don’t only look in the camera. For the love… you are going to hit the truck! Watch the rocks! Straighten the wheel or you are going to hit something! AAAHHHH!! I can’t breathe. I picture all of the worst, just waiting for her to cause damage to something. She might even forget to brake and back right into the house. At this point anything could happen!
She finally parks the car and turns to me calmly and says, “You were a much better teacher before I got my permit. Now you are freaking out and it is freaking me out. I can do this, so calm down.”
And so it begins…
