This has been a very strange year for me. First, let me tell you I'm an overprotective parent, the kind that wipe their babies chubby little hands off after an elderly lady at the store just has to stop and tell you how adorable your little one is. And that, was only the beginning.
I am, by nature, a worrier. I remember when I was young and my grandmother got sick and I was so afraid that she would die that when she didn't I came to the conclusion that if you worried about something enough, it didn't come true. So I worried, about everything and everyone. So far it's worked, my family is safe and sound thanks to my worrying.
When it comes to Mo, I prefer to anticipate and avoid rather than worry. I do enough worrying, if I can head some of that off, all the better.
Until Mo had her own car she really didn't have much of a life. I didn't let her go many places and if she did, I dropped her off and picked her up, long before she could get up to any foolishness.
Now that she's 17, (75 days from being 18), suddenly she has a life, and very little of it includes me. I hardly ever see that kid! She is in her senior year of high school and works 5 nights a week. The nights she doesn't work, I make sure I have nothing to do so we can spend some time together, instead, I get some version of the following:
"I'm at Ria's be home later.
" Colton and I are going snowboarding. Be home later."
" I'm going to the mall with Dennis, be home later."
The list is endless, every day there is something new for her to do, and I sit at home, and wait. You would think with all this free time I would get lots accomplished. Not so much. I read a little, write a little, wander the house, and take lots of bubble baths, just waiting for my girl to come home. And worry, did I forget to mention the worrying? I'm worried until she comes home every night.
Thank God for curfew, otherwise I might not survive.