Updated: July 29, 2016
Originally Published: October 14, 2015
I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the car door handle tightly. I wasn’t entirely sure how this situation would unfold, but I was certain it wouldn’t be pleasant. In a brief span of three agonizing seconds, my life of over 40 years flashed before me, and I found myself wondering how my family would react to the news of a potential accident.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly as I waited, feeling neither the impact of metal against metal nor the sharpness of shattering glass that I assumed surrounded me. Strangely, I was not greeted by cries of anguish, only the sound of my own rapid breathing. I could only assume that the crash must have been so catastrophic that others couldn’t have remained conscious. Clearly, I was in shock, perhaps already blocking out the memory of the collision.
Then, noticing movement to my left, I realized I had to open my eyes and assess the situation to assist in my rescue. “The emergency responders arrived quickly,” I thought, or perhaps I had simply lost consciousness for a while.
Summoning all my courage, I opened one eye, then the other, struggling to process what I was witnessing. No blood, no broken bones, no wrecked vehicle, and no shards of glass. Instead, I found myself in the passenger seat next to my son, who had been driving the car—a scenario I had encountered countless times over the last 15 years. But this time felt distinctly off.
My little boy, the same one I had taught to ride a bike just last week, was now at the wheel. His hands positioned confidently at 10 and 2, he glanced over at me, a sheepish grin on his face. “Sorry, Mom, I took that turn a little too fast. That was a close one,” he said, steering the car into our driveway.
As he switched off the engine, a moment of quiet settled in, the ticking of the cooling motor blending with the sound of a neighbor’s lawnmower on one of the last warm days of summer.
Legally and socially acceptable, my son was now able to drive my car. And it was terrifying. Partly, it stemmed from relinquishing control in more ways than one. The greater concern, however, was the stark reminder that he was growing up, which meant I was too.
The days of singing the alphabet song and watching endless Sesame Street episodes on VHS were long gone. The sweet moments of convincing him to rest his eyes for five minutes had vanished, as had the days of diapers and sleepless nights. Most of the time, I accepted this reality.
There are undeniable advantages to having a teenage child. I now wake him on weekends instead of the other way around. Traveling with a teenager is infinitely easier, and sharing real conversations with him reveals insights I never learned myself.
Obtaining a driver’s license is essential in our suburban lifestyle and signifies a major milestone in a teenager’s life. It symbolizes his growing independence, making this 41-year-old mother feel quite aged.
Part of me reminisces about the days when my little one would zip around the driveway in his toddler “truck,” but I am also excited for him to embrace this new chapter and everything that comes with it.
I recognize that many daunting moments lie ahead in the coming months and years. After having been in control of my child’s life for 15½ years, it’s disconcerting to find him in the driver’s seat—quite literally.
Stepping out of the car, I caught a glimpse of myself in the side mirror. Was it my imagination, or were there more gray hairs now than there had been just half an hour ago? No, the evidence was clear.
Thus concluded another mother-son driving lesson. Next time he asks to practice, perhaps he can drive me to a salon to address this latest sign of aging. Or maybe I’ll just concentrate on keeping my eyes open and my breathing steady as he navigates the roads.
For more engaging content on parenting and home insemination, check out our other posts, such as this one. If you’re seeking authoritative information, visit Make A Mom for comprehensive home insemination kits. Additionally, for further insights on pregnancy week by week, March of Dimes is an excellent resource.
In summary, while the transition into a new phase of parenting can be intimidating, it also offers exciting opportunities for growth and connection with your child.