Trust me, I’m not a perfect parent by any stretch of the imagination but over the years I feel I have gone above and beyond dealing with almost every parental nightmare imaginable. You name it and I’ve dealt with it, twenty years of relentless, pro-activity, anxiety, nurturing, nursing, overwhelming stress and fierce advocating. I’ve gotten my masters degree in “Living It” so doesn’t that qualify me for a free pass on one aspect of parenting? It only seems fair.
If you have been following this blog you know that one thing I am adamant about is respecting kids limitations. Whether limited by anxiety or physical pain, I always tried to find a way to lessen their struggles while setting attainable goals with compassion as my guide. I’ve tackled what I could change and accepted what I could not. As parents we do not usually apply the same to ourselves, parenting is selfless and unconditional. We are the adults and need to wear our big girl panties at all times. We are expected to overcome our own anxieties for the good of our children. Well, I think that sometimes we have to treat ourselves with the same respect we treat our kids and find ways to stay in our own comfort zones. Maybe it is important for our kids to understand that we are not “super moms” and that everyone has their own quirks and limits that are just as important as theirs….. I said maybe.
I can deal with and handle just about anything but teaching teens to drive ….. can’t do it. I’d rather go for a root canal than spend five minutes in the car with a new driver.
I’ve tried. I’ve done the parking lot circling, the side road dashboard grabbing, even the main road with my foot to the floor and hand on my heart thrill ride. The end result is always the same with all three daughters ….. everyone comes home crying ….. mostly me!
When I think about it now, I guess I’m a bit of a control freak. Even when I go out with friends I always drive, no matter where we are going or how inconvenient, I always drive. Part of it is that I get motion sickness before I even get to the entrance of my development and nothing is worse than feeling sick for hours to drive fifteen minutes somewhere but despite that I think it’s just a limitation that I have. A control I don’t like giving up.
To resolve the issue, and because my husband ages ten years every time he comes back from taking them, I decided to send the girls for private lessons before they even take driver education classes at school. Yup, I was slick, handed the job over to instructors with an actual brake on their passenger side. Got myself off the hook ….. stress free ….. problem resolved ….. um…. no! Seems today you need fifty hours of driving experience to even take your road test in New York.
Math is not my strong suit but I think I can work out this equation:
10 hours private lessons
16 hours Driver Education Classes
26 hours subtracted from 50 hours =
Im still screwed!
Sometimes, like it or not, the math doesn’t lie when mom is the one with the limitations. I guess I’ll be gripping the dashboard all the way to the mall to pick up a new pair of big girl panties tomorrow.
Wish me luck!