SURVIVING MS CRAZY

March 2, 2010

As my kid was slamming the car door yelling. “ Mom I hate you”, I realized teaching your kids to drive is a lot like natural childbirth. All that breathing sounds like a good idea until the first contraction, its damn the torpedoes and every man for himself.

I wanted the driving lesson to turn out differently. Perhaps me clutching the dashboard, saying the rosary didn’t instill confidence.

In my day, it was different. We wrote a test, got our license in the afternoon, drove on the big highway that night.

Today they have this G1 and G2 and Gee Mom stop yelling I need to go the speed limit.

The rules have changed. We had to learn to park on a hill. Was it wheels turned in on the down slope or was it out on the up? I still don’t get that right. Today there are no hills. There’s only mall parking. They have to do perpendicular parking and be able to back in between the two white lines. I was out there flagging her in thinking you’re never going to do this once you pass your test. By the way a big apology to a green van at Centre Square mall.

After a few crying incidents, her crying, me driving along side of her, saying, “ Get in the damn car you can’t walk all the way home.” I decided to hire a driving instructor; an insured-driving teacher. Why risk your life when for a few hundred dollars, someone will do it for you? They have massive amounts of training in not freaking out. While I’ve had massive amount of training in freaking out.

Then she got her license, and it was bye- bye car. She took the chevy to the levy and brought the gas tank empty. And I was at home feeling like I was stuck in inside that Harry Chapin song, Cats in the Cradle.

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2 Responses to “SURVIVING MS CRAZY”

1. deborah says:

   March 3, 2010 at 3:50 pm

   Hey mom, quit writing about me. I am at the levy having a brewski
2. Gillian Andrew says:

   March 6, 2010 at 11:27 pm

   I loved this, even tho’ I haven’t taught a child of mine to drive.
   What I did experience was Dad teaching me to drive in S. Africa when I was about 16, circa 1961,selling me a car in England after his European trip in ‘68 was over,letting me borrow one of the 2 family cars when I visited them in S.A. with my international driver’s licence in ‘73, but 5 years later, couldn’t lend me a car because he only remembered his carefully unexpressed horrors of teaching me to drive when I was 16.
   I love your shows! What an excellent example you are of post-feminist freedom and power