Tag: teens

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Mom Life

Baby Steps


“You don’t have to do that,” my daughter said with an annoyed tone of voice.

I pretended not to know what she was talking about, but she could not help but see me stretch my right foot forward, as if putting on the brake. Since I was in the passenger seat, she took my twitching as evidence that I was uncomfortable with that.

Not true. She’s actually an excellent driver. She had a lot of practice last summer, when I broke my right toe and enlisted her as my chauffeur, taking me to and from grocery shopping and doctors’ appointments. By the time she got her license, her dad and I felt comfortable letting her take the keys for short drives.

But driving me to LAX — and then driving all the way back home by herself — is a really big step. And as much as I trust her, after 40 years of my own driving, I cannot help certain reflexive movements when some car cuts in front of us a little too close for my own comfort.

“Maddy says her mom wouldn’t let her drive to the airport.”

Maddy is her cousin, who lives in the Sacramento area, and it did not surprise me to hear that my sister wouldn’t go for that. You need to take a busy freeway to get to their airport. We were making the trip to LAX on Sepulveda, the longest street in the city, which starts all the way up near our home in the north San Fernando Valley and ends in the South Bay, somewhere past the airport. This drive would be no different from meeting her friends on Ventura Boulevard — except that it’s longer. And winds through the Santa Monica Mountains. And is prone to very busy traffic.

Ok, so maybe there was a little reason to worry.

Today’s teen drivers are issued provisional licenses, which limit their driving privileges for a year while they gain experience on the road. I learned at this year’s Lifesaver Conference that this is key to a reduction in accidents by new drivers in states that have this kind of program. Her provisional license period will end in a couple of months, and them she will have fewer restrictions on driving passengers around. And in another few months, she will turn 18 and become a legal adult.

She lives in a big city with lots of big city things she will want to do, so I want her to know how to get around. We just need to take baby steps around it. And that’s why I had her take me to the airport about four hours ahead of my flight to Chicago. And when we got to LAX, we made an extra loop around the terminals so she would know how to get back on Sepulveda and on her way home.

“Don’t forget to text me when you’re home,” I told her as I got out of the car. She waved to me and I watched her drive away before I called my husband to let him know she got me to the airport safely.

I assured him that at this time of day, traffic was light.

“I don’t like this,” he said. “I need a Valium.” He was joking, but he sort of meant it.

Ninety minutes later, I got her text: “Home now.”

So now I can relax.

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

 

 

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Seventeen


As your kids get older, the toys they want for their birthday get more expensive.

My daughter let me know that what she REALLY wants is a car. But she would be happy with the same present she has asked for at every gifting opportunity for the last couple of years: an iTunes card.

This is a relief, because shopping for her is no longer easy. She has her own taste in clothes, in music, in games, in entertainment.

“Next year, I will be an adult,” she tells us. As if we need to be reminded that she is all grown up. Almost all grown up. “Next year, I will be moving out of the house,” she says.

Oh yeah?

“To go to college.”

I will worry about that next year. This birthday snuck up on me. Maybe I have been in denial, but by the time I realized it was close, it was too late to order a custom card. She drove my car to school yesterday; so I did not get a chance to sneak out to the mall until late afternoon.

I used to be able to find plenty of good cards at the Hallmark store. Alas, while there were plenty of cards for daughters turning 16 and 18 and every year younger, I could find nothing for 17.

The humorous cards were all inappropriate; better suited for people heading toward middle and old age than a newly minted young adult.

There was a large section of elaborate cards with sounds and buttons and pop-ups. But they weren’t all that clever. I got the feeling that Hallmark is relying too much on gimmicks these days. They can charge more for a card that plays “I Feel Good.” (I bet they have to; I cannot imagine what the James Brown estate charges to license that.)

So I ended up in the aisle with the mushy cards, addressed to daughters, each one more sincere and flowery than the next. The kind of cards I never buy. And as I scoured the rack to find something that might sound a little like US, I started to cry. Yes, she was the most amazing child. Yes, we cannot imagine our lives without her. Yes, we are so proud of the young woman she has become.

I got the prettiest, simplest, most direct one of the bunch, held back the tears and got the hell out of the Hallmark store. And hope next year doesn’t come too quickly.

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

 

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Current Events Mom Life

After Newtown: Holding Them Close

Friday was a minimum day at my daughter’s school, as she wrapped a week of finals before the annual holiday break. I usually bitch and moan about having to quit work at 12:00 to drive to school and get her, but not this time. By then, I knew what had happened in Newtown, and I could not wait to see my kid and hold her close — which has been my inclination whenever the nation has been touched by tragedy.

It is what I did after Columbine, when she was just a toddler, and what I did in 1999, when white supremacist Buford Furrow shot women and children at the Jewish Community Center a couple of miles from our home (after we got the hell out of the neighborhood while the police were conducting a manhunt). It was how I handled my shock and disbelief after the fall of the World Trade Center her second week of kindergarten. I hugged my daughter after each and every report I heard of a child who was abducted… or harmed… or killed. I held her close and I wondered if there was any way to ensure that she would always be safe.

I got the news of the massacre in Newtown the way I learn of all breaking events these days: from my Facebook and Twitter feeds. I had ceased working anyway by the time I needed to leave for school — but without the audio and visual cues of broadcast coverage, I had been able to stay somewhat detached from the horror.  In the car, I heard the anguished voices of the people of Newtown… and the President’s speech, where he choked up talking about the babies who had been lost on Friday. And I started to lose it, too. I could not wait to hug my baby.

And then, school was out.

My daughter threw her backpack in the trunk of the car and slid into the passenger seat.

“Can I drive?” she asked.

Did I mention that she is 16 now and has her license?

I was not in the mood. I just wanted to get us home.

“The movie is at 5:00,” she said. I vaguely remembered telling her I had no problem with her seeing a movie after school with her friends. This was no longer true.

“I’m not sure about that now,” I told her. “Did you hear what happened today?”

She had, and she did not think that an event that happened at an elementary school 3,000 miles away had anything to do with her ability to go to the movies that night with her friends. She said it wasn’t fair.

My daughter’s study load doesn’t give her much time for a social life, so on the rare occasions when she wants to get out with some friends, I am all for it. But now, all I could think of was   those families in Newtown, and the people who were terrorized at the mall in Oregon earlier that week — and the massacre in the Aurora movie theater just six months ago.

No, no, no, no, no.

“You’re right,” I said. “It’s not fair and it’s not logical. I just don’t want you going alone to a movie at a mall tonight. I don’t expect you to understand that now, but maybe some day when you have kids of your own, you’ll look back on this and get it.”

One thing was certain: she did not get it now. We argued a little more and drove the rest of the way in silence, and when we were home she went straight to her room and shut her door.

I did not get my hug.

A friend called me later that afternoon to talk of the horrible events of the day — and our kids. I asked her if she thought I was being unreasonable.

What I actually said was, “Am I crazy?”

“No, Donna. You’re not crazy. I absolutely would not let my kids to to a movie theater tonight! What if someone decides to pull another Batman? I bet the other kids’ parents feel the same way.”

Maybe. One of them is the child of two schoolteachers. I bet this hits even closer to home.

I felt better about my decision – but not about the world we live in, where a parent has to be afraid to let her kid go to a mall, a movie theater or even to school. The rational me knows that   I cannot lock my daughter safely away for the rest of her life; I want her to be out in the world and to feel strong and unafraid. But no one is immune from random acts of violence, none of us is 100% safe. But at least, for this one night, we would all be together.

I knocked on her door and peeked in. She had fallen asleep.

By the time her dad got home, she was up and about and was no longer sulking about missing the movie. We had a nice dinner and a pleasant evening. And when it was time to go to bed, I asked her for a hug.

She leaned down and I held her tight.

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The DMV is NOT the Portal to Hell. Not Today.

They don’t allow you to take photos inside the DMV, so I have no illustration for this post. That’s not a big deal, as everyone already knows what this place is about.

A few years ago, I laughed at Kevin Smith’s TV series “Reaper,” about a kid whose parents sold his soul to the devil. He had to report to a minion of Satan, who worked at the DMV. The joke, of course, was that this place was the portal to hell.

It’s actually not that bad — if you have an appointment. We made ours a couple of weeks ago, over the Internet. So the queue we waited in wasn’t long. Also, there was stuff to look at on HDTV monitors placed strategically around the building. It’s mostly PSAs about driving hazards, insurance requirements and the joy of buying personalized plates – but there are also ads for local businesses, as well as the number you can call to place your ad here. I suppose it’s effective, captive audience and all.

Did you know that the DMV has a smartphone app? I guess I should forgive myself for being unaware, since there are few cool apps for my Blackberry. But if you have an iPhone or Android smartphone, you can use it to make appointments, check out wait times, and even take sample driving tests – which I think is pretty cool. And I learned about it while standing in that line today.

My 16-year-old daughter is taking her driving test. I’m kind of a nervous wreck. I have faith in her. But I think I’m projecting a little. I remember how afraid I was when I took my test. And I know she’s feeling a little bit nervous, too, so I’m feeling that as well.

The procedures have changed since I was a teenager. The most obvious ones are the restrictions on young drivers now. But I was surprised to learn that they no longer require you to take the written test first. Apparently, it’s now considered redundant to take it again so soon after passing it to get your permit.

Did I mention that Megan is in my car RIGHT NOW with the DMV guy who will decide if she’s a good enough driver for the state of California? I’m glad I’m not in the car with her. I’m also sad. She is on her own – as she will be increasingly as she marches to adulthood.

UPDATE: She passed her exam. And after driving home, she announced that she would run to the store for me — alone. She just returned.

“That was weird,” she said. And then she retreated back to her room to tackle her homework.

Yes. It is.