(Disclaimer: I could write a book on the following events, I will try and make it as short and sweet as possible, hang in there)
I remember when I was 15, I got my learner's permit and I was so excited and determined to be driving. I didn't have to take one of those stupid driver's ed classes either. My mom taught me. At the time, it wasn't too thrilling. In hinde sight, I'm really glad my mom taught me. 1) I had to drive everywhere. Oh what, you forgot to get something at the store. Ugh. She made me drive there. I was driving all the time. 2) Yes, she may have been a little more frieghtened than the driver's ed teachers, but this is probably a good thing. I remember the first turn I ever took, I thought it was a good idea to step on the gas. Needless to say, we almost ended up in the ditch.
Then, I turned 16. At this point, I feel like my mom was comfortable handing me the keys. I got a job. I drove to school, work, and soccer practice, oh and softball. (Other places too). Point being, I'm sure my mother was relieved to not have to drive to these places all the time. I was ridiculously busy. To my knowledge, the first time out by myself, my parents handed me the keys and probably sat down to a great movie, no worry in their hearts. This is either true, or I'm way nieve and wrong. I go with number two. Yesterday I learned my lesson. As a side note here, as a teenager, you do not understand the stress and worry that your parents go through. It is ridiculous. My dad gave me a really good analogy once, but still, nothing close.
Moving on. Yesterday was Tuesday, so I went over to my parent's house with Ian and I made dinner. Yes, I cook sometimes. I made meatballs, gravy, rice, rolls, and my absolute fave, green bean cassarole. Let me set the following scene for you, my dad was putting up Ian's baby gate on the staircase (in a bit, he will also be taking down his tv because it's broken). My mother is holding a very sleepy Ian talking on the phone to my older brother, Aaron. (Stephen has already gone home). And finally, I am putting all of my things together to leave with the baby. Suddenly, my phone rings, "Michael calling." Our hearts stop. My mom proceeds to hang up on Aaron, my dad drops his tools, and I take a huge gulp and answer...
Let me give you a little bit of background before I continue on. Michael is 17 years old. He has his driver's license. He does not drive alone. I don't know if it's because he's the baby, but everyone is terrified about Michael driving. On this very evening, my mom looked at me and said these words, "I am thinking about letting Michael drive to Aaron's by himself." Was she kidding? I think not. This next part I found hilarious. We call Michael into the room and the conversation goes as follows:
Moms: Hey, I'm going to let you drive to Aaron's.
Michael: Oh, you don't want to drive?
Me: No, she means by yourself.
Michael: Oh! (Imagine a deer-caught-in-headlights look)
Another thing that should be mentioned here. My parent's aren't making him drive a piece of crap car, he drives a car that is 100 times nicer than mine (though, oddly enough, I would not trade it with mine). Anyways, we lecture him, I'm sure he loved hearing it. And we sent him on his way. Were I left off, my mom is on the phone with Aaron telling him what's going on and to make sure she gets a phone call when he gets there, etc. etc. You can imagine our surprise when not even 5 minutes later I see Michael calling my phone.
Our hearts stopped because we are 105% sure that if Michael were ever in an accident, he would call me, not my parents. I hear Michael on the other line, Hey Amanda.
Oh. My. Gosh I'm thinking. Hey Michael, what's up?! Are you okay?
Yeah. Um... is mom low on gas? The light is on.
Oh! Moms, are you low on gas? No Michael, it's broken. Pay attention to the mileage. What's the mileage?!
I got to go now, I can't look. **He hangs up on me.**
Everyone gets their adrinaline back down and my mom calls Aaron back. He thinks we are ridiculous. I feel as if I'm about to get an ulcer, so I leave and try to get it out of my head. On my drive home, I have a few thoughts. 1) Were they like this with me? All of this anxiety is ridiculous. 2) No, they couldn't have been, I was (and still am) awesome. It must be because he is the baby. 3) Oh my goodness! Michael isn't even my own kid and I just about had a heart attack. Ian is going to push me over the edge.
Did you hang in there? I know, I'm sorry for the super long post. But, yesterday was a big day. For your information, Michael made it there. I'm still alive. And, I'm anxious about Ian driving (even though he's 9 months old).