Teaching ET to Drive

So my oldest daughter --whom I call ET for blog purposes-- has a learner's permit. Yes, she turned 15 1/2, and now she's learning to drive.

In case you didn't know, ET stands for Evil Teenager.

Yes, I like to bestow friendly little pet names on my children.

Teaching her to drive is stretching my limits. In a big way.

Her father already did the "hard part," which is taking her out to a parking lot and putting her behind the wheel for the first few times. So now that she's considered "ready for the road," all that she requires is practice.

Which is where I come in.

Now every time we go somewhere, she's like a puppy, boucing up and down, "Can I go? Can I drive?"

The problem is, letting her drive turns me into a mass of anxiety.

I mean, I'm not normally an anxious person, but getting into the passenger seat of the minivan when ET is in the driver's seat sends me right over the edge.

(image from http://www.mysahana.org)

I bite my nails, twist my hair, pick at my skin and clothing, and generally start to look like the poster child for Xanax.

I make little whimpering noises when she changes lanes (too quickly) and cover my eyes when she hits the brakes (too slowly).

When she parks the car, I start to hyperventilate.

I feel the need to say, "Watch out for that!" about twenty times a minute.

I try to keep my tone even, pleasant, and heartening, but it comes out strained, trembly, and about two octaves higher than it should be.

When we finally stop, I really do feel like kissing the ground. But instead I say, "That was really good! You're getting better!" in my most encouraging --albeit breathless and tense-- voice.

ET rolls her eyes and says, "Whatever, Mom. I know you were totally peeing your pants the whole time."

Which is someting I can't really refute.

But the truth is, she really is getting better. And soon she won't need to practice any more.

Then she'll get her license... and my REAL anxiety will begin....