"Mom, I gotta tell you something, and I'm calling you because you'll freak out less than Dad. I got in an accident."
"Are you SERIOUS?"
"Yeah. I backed into someone."
"You're not kidding? You really hit someone?!?"
"Yes, I did. And it's not helping that you're YELLING AT ME!!!"
*big, deep breath.....much calmer tone of voice.... because, drat it all, he was right...I was yelling, just a bit*
"You're right. I'm sorry. Are you ok? Is anyone hurt?"
From there, he proceeded to tell me exactly what happened, and I was able to walk him through exactly what to do. No one was hurt, the owner of the other vehicle seems to be a very nice young man, and we're hoping to get this taken care of with minimal fuss. A busted taillight and a dented bumper for each vehicle. As far as accidents go, this one's a cake walk. Heck, both...yes, that's right...BOTH of my brothers backed into MY car when they were both in high school. Or, perhaps more correctly, they each backed OVER my car when they were in high school.
Still, I can't help but feel like I totally hosed a defining parental moment.
His first fender bender, and I didn't react the way he needed me to. I didn't believe him at first, and wasn't calm until he reminded me that he needed me to be.
Do I at least get some bonus redemption points for asking about him first, rather than the car?
Showing posts with label OMG He's Driving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label OMG He's Driving. Show all posts
Monday, July 11, 2011
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Even Tom Tom or GPS Can't Teach How to Follow Directions
This was a very big week for me. Monumental. Quite possibly for my oldest son, too. He got his actual, official driver's license this week. He was excited, I was emotional; all of which is pretty much par for the course when it comes to our family meeting these milestones and moments in life.
So today, I was sitting at my desk, quietly worrying and checking the clock every two seconds, wondering what was taking him so long to get home from dropping me off at work this morning. Not yet in panic mode, but beginning to think it might not take me as long to get there as I had hoped it would. At the precise moment when I looked at the time on my computer for the eleventy-billionth time, my phone buzzed with a new text message. From The Teenager.
J: Mom, you said Long East/West Street to Main North/South Street, right? (Obviously, I've changed the street names. I'm just not clever enough to give them decent names.)
Me: Yes, why?
J: Well, I haven't seen Main North/South Street, and I'm at the END of Long East/West Street.
Um, what? That is an incredibly LOOONNNGGG street, dude. If he was at the end of it, he was almost to Mexico. Okay, okay. That might be a bit of an exaggeration, but it truly is a long road that would find you quite a bit farther than where you need to be if you're at the end of it. And really, dude. You missed a fairly major street.
Me: Are you pulled over? (Because people? This boy has very strict instructions and a driving contract that state quite firmly that there is to be NO, absolutely NO, texting or phone usage while driving. Period.)
J: Yeah.
So I called him, and gave him directions back to where he could find his way home. To where his father has been waiting all morning after having spent ten minutes giving him advice (read: borderline lecture; pre-emptive, of course!) on just how to avoid getting lost.
Me: You didn't call your dad, did you? (This was more confirming a fact that asking a question. I knew he hadn't call dad!)
J: Oh no. Nope.
Me: We're not gonna tell him you got lost, are we? (Again, confirmation. I know this kid!)
J: Nope. (And you could literally hear the grin on his face when he said that!) He really doesn't need to know. No point in that.
*pause*
J: Besides...he said he figured he'd get a call from me at 9:10 telling him I was lost and asking for directions. It's 9:30. Why make him feel bad for being wrong?
Why, indeed, son? Merry Christmas, Dad.
Hosted by Cecily
So today, I was sitting at my desk, quietly worrying and checking the clock every two seconds, wondering what was taking him so long to get home from dropping me off at work this morning. Not yet in panic mode, but beginning to think it might not take me as long to get there as I had hoped it would. At the precise moment when I looked at the time on my computer for the eleventy-billionth time, my phone buzzed with a new text message. From The Teenager.
J: Mom, you said Long East/West Street to Main North/South Street, right? (Obviously, I've changed the street names. I'm just not clever enough to give them decent names.)
Me: Yes, why?
J: Well, I haven't seen Main North/South Street, and I'm at the END of Long East/West Street.
Um, what? That is an incredibly LOOONNNGGG street, dude. If he was at the end of it, he was almost to Mexico. Okay, okay. That might be a bit of an exaggeration, but it truly is a long road that would find you quite a bit farther than where you need to be if you're at the end of it. And really, dude. You missed a fairly major street.
Me: Are you pulled over? (Because people? This boy has very strict instructions and a driving contract that state quite firmly that there is to be NO, absolutely NO, texting or phone usage while driving. Period.)
J: Yeah.
So I called him, and gave him directions back to where he could find his way home. To where his father has been waiting all morning after having spent ten minutes giving him advice (read: borderline lecture; pre-emptive, of course!) on just how to avoid getting lost.
Me: You didn't call your dad, did you? (This was more confirming a fact that asking a question. I knew he hadn't call dad!)
J: Oh no. Nope.
Me: We're not gonna tell him you got lost, are we? (Again, confirmation. I know this kid!)
J: Nope. (And you could literally hear the grin on his face when he said that!) He really doesn't need to know. No point in that.
*pause*
J: Besides...he said he figured he'd get a call from me at 9:10 telling him I was lost and asking for directions. It's 9:30. Why make him feel bad for being wrong?
Why, indeed, son? Merry Christmas, Dad.
Doesn't he look happy? This was 5 minutes after he got the license!
Hosted by Cecily
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Things I Have Learned As A Passenger In The Teenage-Driven Vehicle
So you all know he's driving. An actual vehicle, not just my sanity! And he has been now for almost four months. (Ack! That means he can actually get the real deal license in a little over two months!) Having been a licensed driver myself for quite some time now, I rather arrogantly assumed that there wasn't much more I could learn about driving. Turns out, apparently there are some things I still CAN learn, and they center mostly around being a passenger. Since I like you all so much, I figure I'll share these new nuggets of knowledge so that when it comes time for you, too, to be chauffeured around by your own teenagers, you won't find yourselves freaking out quite so much. You can thank me then.
--No matter how hard you press, that passenger side brake pedal will never just manifest itself and actually work.
--Holding onto the door, whether it's by the handle or with your arm out the window and actually holding the door, will not in any way help the vehicle stay on all four wheels while rounding a corner or a curve in the road. (No, for those of you who might worry, we have not progressed to actually tipping the truck onto two wheels or less. I'm rather hopeful that wasn't what he was trying to do, in any case.)
--Likewise, letting the thought actually take root in your mind that if you just reached out the window and pushed against the trees along the side of the road you might be able to put the vehicle in the center between the lines? Probably won't actually work, either.
--Sitting in the backseat rather than the front is much more likely to result in your carsickness.
--The rule that the driver gets to decide the radio station? Will probably backfire on you at some point, ensuring you end up listening to something you would much rather not have ever had burned into your ears. Word of advice? Either don't make that rule in the first place, or word it so that you have left yourself a loophole.
--Just because this teenager is grown up enough to be driving now does not mean that he is grown up enough to NOT use the phrase "It does not" in relation to just about everything that you tell him. Especially while driving. For example: "Dude, driving into the sun will make it really hard to see the tail lights of the car in front of you, so maybe give yourself a little extra stopping room." "It does not. I'm fine."
--Sometimes, after you know he's got the hang of things, its just better to sit there with your eyes closed. That might be the only way he will ever be able to tell you that you're not making him so nervous anymore. And hearing that? Will make you happier than you ever thought it would.
--No matter how hard you press, that passenger side brake pedal will never just manifest itself and actually work.
--Holding onto the door, whether it's by the handle or with your arm out the window and actually holding the door, will not in any way help the vehicle stay on all four wheels while rounding a corner or a curve in the road. (No, for those of you who might worry, we have not progressed to actually tipping the truck onto two wheels or less. I'm rather hopeful that wasn't what he was trying to do, in any case.)
--Likewise, letting the thought actually take root in your mind that if you just reached out the window and pushed against the trees along the side of the road you might be able to put the vehicle in the center between the lines? Probably won't actually work, either.
--Sitting in the backseat rather than the front is much more likely to result in your carsickness.
--The rule that the driver gets to decide the radio station? Will probably backfire on you at some point, ensuring you end up listening to something you would much rather not have ever had burned into your ears. Word of advice? Either don't make that rule in the first place, or word it so that you have left yourself a loophole.
--Just because this teenager is grown up enough to be driving now does not mean that he is grown up enough to NOT use the phrase "It does not" in relation to just about everything that you tell him. Especially while driving. For example: "Dude, driving into the sun will make it really hard to see the tail lights of the car in front of you, so maybe give yourself a little extra stopping room." "It does not. I'm fine."
--Sometimes, after you know he's got the hang of things, its just better to sit there with your eyes closed. That might be the only way he will ever be able to tell you that you're not making him so nervous anymore. And hearing that? Will make you happier than you ever thought it would.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Where Can We Go Today?
I'll drive!It's funny, but I distinctly remember those words coming out of my own mouth about 20 years ago, all the time. Any excuse I could find to get behind the wheel of the car, with my newly minted learner's permit--and later my freshly laminated driver's license--clutched in my hand, was one I'd eagerly latch onto. Mom needed toilet paper? Off to the corner convenience store I'd go. Baby brother needed to be picked up from daycare? Hop in the car and take off. Dad needed a few minutes of peace from the bickering? I'd load my brothers in the car and we'd head off to grab Slurpees.
These days, when I hear those words, they're coming from Jock. Coach remarks that he's down to just a couple of beers? I'll drive....you know you really want 'em tonight! I mention that a nice and cold carbonated beverage straight from the fountain sounds
good? Hey mom.... I'll buy!
good? Hey mom.... I'll buy!My kid has managed to one-up me, it appears. Where I was content just to take the reasons my parents handed me to drive, Jock apparently feels the need to bribe us to ensure success. Bribery? Well, until he figures out that we'll let him drive anyway? It's working for me.
Now, if only he'd stop telling me to put the camera away while he's driving......
Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek
Monday, June 15, 2009
Only 5 Months and 3 Weeks To Go
It's been more years than I care to specify since I first learned how to drive. However, despite the fact that I am apparently older than dirt, I do remember the actual learning-to-drive experience. I remember just about everything about it, actually. (And if you're my mom, and you're reading this, and my memories differ somewhat from what Daddy remembers? Well, it's MY blog, and so any shared memories are subject to my unique interpretation, mm'kay?)
I learned how to drive in what felt like a ginormous, hard to control beast. What it really was was a 1975 black Ford F250. It had a gear shift coming up from the floorboard that seemed longer than my leg, and was SO! HARD! to shift. It didn't have air conditioning (although, as I learned to drive in the winter, that wasn't as much of a consideration as it otherwise might have been, I suppose.); it didn't have power windows. And I don't seem to recall power steering, either. Every stinkin' thing about this truck was manual, from the windows to the transmission. I think my way-more-patient-than-previously-given-credit-for dad finally agreed with me on my level of hopelessness, as I finally ended up with the car I took my road test on. My first car. A 1974 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. Yes, that's right. My first car was a barge. (Which was a good thing, as one day it ended up in a ditch and didn't have any damage whatsoever when it was pulled out. I'll have to share that story with you one day. Maybe. If I can find a way that it doesn't paint me in a very unfavorable, scatterbrain image.)
I will admit to you here, and only here (and only because my readership has dropped so far that I'm not even sure my bestest friend from my glory days still reads me), that I barely passed the written exam to get my learner's permit all those many years ago. Had I missed even one more question, I would not have walked out of that beautiful Motor Vehicle office and into the driver's seat of that Beast. I will also admit to barely passing the actual road test. Apparently, they mark you down for running through a stop sign and missing the turn the instructor would have liked you to take. And no, there are no extra credit points for successfully finding your way back to the Motor Vehicle office after missing said turn. Which, if you ask my opinion, is a total rip off.
And this stellar driving resume, my friends? This has qualified me to teach my son how to drive. I would caution you to possibly stay off the roads at certain times, but I am required by Arizona law to teach him to drive at all possible times of the day and night. Plus, as I'm not certain if I would be cautioning you just because he's a new driver or because of his beyond amazing instructor, I'm just going to ... well, NOT caution you at all. What I WILL tell you is that Jock scored a higher percentage on his written exam than I did, and is learning to drive in a vehicle with an automatic transmission and automatic windows.
We have survived the first seven days of driving lessons. And I have a new appreciation for my dad.
I learned how to drive in what felt like a ginormous, hard to control beast. What it really was was a 1975 black Ford F250. It had a gear shift coming up from the floorboard that seemed longer than my leg, and was SO! HARD! to shift. It didn't have air conditioning (although, as I learned to drive in the winter, that wasn't as much of a consideration as it otherwise might have been, I suppose.); it didn't have power windows. And I don't seem to recall power steering, either. Every stinkin' thing about this truck was manual, from the windows to the transmission. I think my way-more-patient-than-previously-given-credit-for dad finally agreed with me on my level of hopelessness, as I finally ended up with the car I took my road test on. My first car. A 1974 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. Yes, that's right. My first car was a barge. (Which was a good thing, as one day it ended up in a ditch and didn't have any damage whatsoever when it was pulled out. I'll have to share that story with you one day. Maybe. If I can find a way that it doesn't paint me in a very unfavorable, scatterbrain image.)
I will admit to you here, and only here (and only because my readership has dropped so far that I'm not even sure my bestest friend from my glory days still reads me), that I barely passed the written exam to get my learner's permit all those many years ago. Had I missed even one more question, I would not have walked out of that beautiful Motor Vehicle office and into the driver's seat of that Beast. I will also admit to barely passing the actual road test. Apparently, they mark you down for running through a stop sign and missing the turn the instructor would have liked you to take. And no, there are no extra credit points for successfully finding your way back to the Motor Vehicle office after missing said turn. Which, if you ask my opinion, is a total rip off.
And this stellar driving resume, my friends? This has qualified me to teach my son how to drive. I would caution you to possibly stay off the roads at certain times, but I am required by Arizona law to teach him to drive at all possible times of the day and night. Plus, as I'm not certain if I would be cautioning you just because he's a new driver or because of his beyond amazing instructor, I'm just going to ... well, NOT caution you at all. What I WILL tell you is that Jock scored a higher percentage on his written exam than I did, and is learning to drive in a vehicle with an automatic transmission and automatic windows.
We have survived the first seven days of driving lessons. And I have a new appreciation for my dad.
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