Firsts

There are many firsts as a mother, first baby, first steps, the first night your baby sleeps through the night, where you wake up six times to check the monitor to make sure your child is breathing. Kindergarten is a huge first, a milestone for which I blubbered like a baby as I watched both my teenagers, as five-year-olds, enter the building. These firsts are part of the process, a little by little letting go, fly baby bird fly, out of the nest you go.

So far, even though I've cried and the letting go is difficult, I've been okay with the firsts because I realize, the more independent my children are, the more freedom I have. So I have trained them to be self-sufficient, they pack their lunches, owning their own good or bad nutrition, they do their own laundry, even though an occasional tissue or library book makes it into the cycle, dripping wet, crinkled mess, ruined. Making mistakes, that's part of life, the life of firsts, and I've been on board gladly, yet slowly nudging my teenagers out of the nest, until my oldest passed her permit test.

So far, I've felt like I've had a bit of control over their firsts but with my daughter behind the wheel, I feel like I have handed my child a tank that can go from 0-60 in a moment, and have decided to go for a ride. Essentially, I have handed her my life and I have no control but my words. Go right, go left, ease up on the gas pedal, STOP....

After we took a picture of her holding her permit, while sitting behind the wheel, I drove to an abandoned parking lot and let her drive. She drove, S.l.o.w.l.y, all break and no gas, around the parking lot. As I watched her, instructed and encouraged her I smiled as she giggled with glee, ran over a curb, and almost gave us whip lash. Here's to firsts, ladies and gentlemen and all the mistakes that come along with them.