I'm buzzing around my kitchen exaggerating every move as if each is of Some Great Importance, but mostly I'm just irritated. My two oldest are attending a concert tonight and their convoluted and confusing "plans" do not make sense At All to me–or anyone over the age of 18.
This is one of the things I've had to get over as a parent: that my kids (and kids in general) do not make plans the way we did…the way we had to because there was no such thing as smart phones or cell phones or any manner of phone not corded to a base or hanging on the wall.
It almost sounds medieval, n'est pas?
So I spew questions at my daughter–"Do you even know how to get there?" "Who is riding with you?" "Do you know where to park?"–while she's waiting on my son to return with the car. He had to pick up a friend across town, take him and another friend already with him to meet someone else, then return home to drop off the car for his sister, then catch a ride with yet another friend to meet the Adult Driver who was carting them all to the concert.
See? Did anyone just track with me on that???
I remind them both just because they're among the first in their grades to drive does not mean they're everyone's taxi service. I'm sure their eyes are rolling but they're careful not to let me see.
Good gracious I am such a m o t h e r …!
I glance through the window that opens to our front yard when I notice skies have darkened, obsidian bully waiting to unleash liquid fury. Ominous and menacing, these are the things that give me reason to fear:
distracted teenage drivers
everyone else on the road,
and my babies not understanding Things Happen.
For a second I remembered my own father's warnings whenever I drove in what he considered dangerous conditions (the kind I rolled my eyes at…) and realized my children won't understand completely until they are parents of teenagers. That doesn't stop me from trying.
Attempting to communicate the potential danger from the storm about to descend, I say, "Wow…the bottom of the sky is about to fall out…"
And Rachel, sitting at our kitchen table over-looking our backyard, begins "Well all I see are blue skies and puffy white clouds…."
I thought she was just playing the opposite game until I turned my head and looked her direction–
I'm standing in the center of these two rooms, looking back and forth and shaking my head in disbelief–to my right, our front yard and charcoal sky, to my left, our backyard and white and baby blues. A second has passed…
Without missing a beat Rachel finishes her thought, "…I guess it's just a matter of perspective."
And it suddenly occurred to me: I don't even know if we're still talking about the weather….