He's Driving Me Crazy! And Now It's Legal For Him To Do It!

See this kid? This is my baby. My youngest. The last tenant of my womb. See that piece of paper he's holding? I know...it's all blurred and white but so what? You don't need to read the actual words anyway. I can tell you what it says. It says, "Kari Leigh. You are officially an old woman. Your youngest child has been granted a Learners Permit to drive. That means you can no longer pretend you are the parent of a youngling. You are just one more old lady in the world today. Give up the hair color now. Go gray. Completely gray. Your days as a young, hip mom are over, lady. You are now nearing the crest of the hill we call "Mount Middle Age". A couple more steps and you will, indeed, be over the hill. And by the way, your youngest child may not drive without an adult over the age of eighteen (and Heaven knows, Kari, YOU qualify on that score) accompanying him."

Okay. So maybe it doesn't say that in so many words, but that's the general idea. He's had this permit for about a week. I've just refused to grasp the full meaning of it. It wasn't until we were leaving tennis practice (the boys', not mine) last night that I realized...Kaleb will be a junior in high school this year and Jake will be a sophomore. What the heck? Where did the time go? How did this happen? Just the other day, those two were sitting in carseats and stealing each other's bottles. Well, I guess it wasn't just the other day that they were doing that. How funny would that have looked? Two teenage boys, strapped into carseats, their heads smushed against the ceiling of the car while they snatch bottles out of each others mouths...yeah, that's a vision. Still, it doesn't seem possible that my youngest little baby can now drive a car. Sure, sure. Jake getting his permit isn't supposed to be about me and only a narcissistic personality such as mine could turn it into such. Yeah? So? I'm self-centered. Duh.You really think pointing that out to me will change the way I'm viewing this? Please. Look up "narcissist" in the dictionary, then get back to me. Try to see it from my point of view, would you? And the point I'm making is, his getting a permit is just one more indication that my old age is fast approaching. He's my baby! My youngest baby! First menopause, now this! A part of me says I'm looking at this all wrong. But that part isn't dealing with wrinkles, hot flashes and flabby arms. I think I need a therapist. Or a good, stiff drink. Or both. I guess the good news is, now I'll have one more driver to get me home after a drunken session at the therapist's office, huh?