I sat in back and I liked it

There's the tipping point when your children take over. When they become smarter than you. I mean literally smarter, not just smart alec smarter. There's a point when children take in all the queues of the world and process them faster and better than their elders. When does that happen?

Tonight, in our nightly rounds of driving to and fro around town, Boy Child to karate, Girl Child from public cheerleading club to private cheerleadering club, I sat in the back seat of my own vehicle. Tonight, in our nightly rounds of driving miles and miles, hours after an early morning rise and a full day's work, Girl Child drove. She sat in the driver's seat, pushed the peddles, and steered. She dropped her brother off to karate and since she is at the helm with a learner's permit, a licensed driver, aka me, had to be there. I sat in the back.

And I liked it. I watched the trees and houses and stars out the side window float by in the January early evening dark. Momentary thoughts of panic such as, "Dear God, a child is driving this death trap and I'm in it," I calm myself with a line I heard from my brother-in-law last summer, Amanda's a good driver, she'll do fine. It's funny how it takes someone else to tell you these things instead of trusting your own instincts, or your child's history. I trust my brother-in-law and so I take this statement to heart even now. I tell myself over and over, as a matter of fact yes, my kid is a good driver because someone else told me she was. (It's kind of like the opposite of the parental kiss of death. That's when the parent says X or Y is good or bad, and so the child instantly believes in the utter opposite.)

I'm safe in the back seat. I don't need to pay attention to the driving ahead. Passenger advise not needed.

The back seat is lovely.

That tipping point goes the other way too. When your parents become smarter than you. When all your wise acre smooth operations evaporate into thin air. When your elders know more than you do, they are unlike teenagers because they keep quiet about it. They sit back and let you discover it for yourself. Maybe secretly laugh (which they deserve). I'm pretty sure my Mom is smarter than me, and I'm also sure my daughter knows more than I do. In fact, I've decided I know nothing. I'm at the place in the middle when I'm just trying to get through the day. If there's any discernment at all, I'm discerning which old information to keep and which to toss. I'm realizing that my judgement isn't so good. How do you fill out a bank deposit slip? I don't know, my brave new world is automated. I actually watched a You Tube video tonight to answer that question because I was unable to help my daughter, who is coordinating the cheerleading (public) sweatshirt purchase. (Lesson learned: It's way funner to create the print design than to collect the money, aka harass a group of people who said they wanted to buy it to actually turn in their cash. An age old truth. Don't think I've never been guilty. You?)

Earlier tonight, in dropping off Girl Child to private cheerleading gym, when I was sitting in the backseat like a chauffeured Miss Daisy, because the Boy had long before been dropped off at his destination and I was too settled to move to the front, I was asked to just let the Girl get out of the car as though she had driven to the gym by herself. Fine by me. Truth be told, I sat in the quiet of the back seat for a good ten minutes in the parking lot. Doing nothing. If anyone was watching they would have totally believed that the Girl had driven her own car, and that the vehicle was empty and waiting.

Now is my time to sit in the back.

Thanks so much for coming over the bleeding heart blog. I thank you so much. And if you're the praying type, I ask that you include my deadlines in your prayers. I got a lot of them. (Hence my fascination with the anonymous back seat.)

With love,

Natural Born Bleeding Heart