Get into the car and off of my couch...or the continued adventures of MidiMe.
For a person with control issues (which I admit I am ), letting your child grow up and do things like...drive...is a hard thing. And for a person with control issues mixed with a bit of Helicopter Mom, it's even harder. I realize that since I really have no control over her growing, I could spend a lot of energy trying to hold her back by figuratively wrapping myself around her leg and dragging behind her on the floor, or I can put on my big girl panties and go forth into the world alongside her. I did not want my MidiMe to drive. I don't know if it was because my father never let me drive while I lived at home, because I didn't want to pay the increased insurance premium, or because I knew in the back of my mind that if she had a car there's a pretty good chance that at several points during the day, I probably, most assuredly, won't know where she is and who she is with. But I have exhaled. Since I'm not raising MidiMe in New York City and her social cale