To the Teenage Girl Who Honked at Me,
Gee, this is kind of embarrassing, isn’t it? A middle-aged woman writing to you. I’ll try to be brief. I know you have places to go.
I guess that’s what it was anyway, that you had places to go. When I first heard the honk of your horn it startled me. I looked all around trying to figure out where it was coming from, and then I saw you whip behind me in your tiny, white sports car.
My first thought was wow! That car only has two seats! I almost forgot about the honk at that point because I was too busy wondering where you put your groceries, everyone’s bags, or even the stroller. But then I saw you, and I knew. I knew that you had no idea about things like carseats and extra drink holders for multiple sippee cups.
I sped up a bit in my ginormous mommy wagon to allow you the speed you craved. I assumed you were in a hurry, and the nostalgic thought of that made me wince.
I remembered things like that. Being in a hurry. I get in a hurry now too, but it’s because I’m always running late. And I’m always running late because people have to poop, and find their shoes, and interrupt our exodus from the house with questions like, “do dogs get married?”
But you, ahhh, you get to be in a hurry for things called “plans.” I have plans too, but they typically involve the feeding and general welfare of my offspring. Your plans are often off-the-cuff or spontaneous and completely self-serving. You are so lucky!
You decide you want to go see a friend, so you get up, get into your car, and you go! Just like that. Your only impedance usually is a red light, train, or a sleepy woman like myself in an overloaded minivan. We typically drive kind of slow because we’re all worried about safety and silly things like mortality. We’re pretty annoying, I know.
I began to wonder if perhaps you had honked while we sat across from each other at the four-way stop because I went out of turn. I thought I had gotten there first, but you made me second guess myself. Had I?
I could blame my lack of attention to roadway etiquette on the blaring Dora the Explorer theme song behind me, or I could blame it on the fatigue from four and a half years without a full night’s, uninterrupted sleep, but I wasn’t sure if my excuses would go over well with you. I knew you often stayed up all night yourself. And then you slept the sleep of the dead for two days straight. I remember that.
Anyway, it’s also possible I was distracted by the constant “Mom? Mom? Hey Mom?” coming from the back seat, but I didn’t have the strength to even raise my hand in apology, much less offer that excuse. My headache that started on Tuesday was still pressing into my right temple, and I just didn’t want to bother.
It’s possible I completely missed that you arrived to the stop sign first. After all, for the past few weeks I had felt extremely flighty, forgetting everything from where I put my keys, to what I went into the store to get that day. I blamed it on hormones, constantly changing hormones from hell, and I knew this was something else you just couldn’t fathom. I’m sure you think you know with your sweet, little mood swings for three days out of the month, but trust me. You don’t know. Until you have cried daily for six months straight, you haven’t a clue.
But anyway, it could very well have been my hormonal lack of attention to detail that made me miss whose turn it was to go. Or I could have been distracted by the dread of the task ahead. I was heading to the store with a van load of children under four. As Dora sang happily unaware, I wept. It could have been my hormones again making me cry though. That’s the thing. I never really know.
I guess what I really wanted to say, besides sorry for pulling my huge mom mobile out in front of your sweet ride, was this. Enjoy your self while you still can! Try not to get too bent out of shape over slow-driving old women like myself going out-of-turn at the stop sign. That is the last thing you need to worry about.
You need to be celebrating and singing at the top of your lungs. After all, you can sing aloud in the car to a song of your own choosing rather than that of a Disney soundtrack. You can play it as loud as you want and not worry about waking anyone in the backseat from their nap. Heck, you don’t even have a backseat. You don’t have a backseat riddled with discarded french fries and spilled juice boxes.
You can go where you want to go, when you want to go, and most importantly, get there whenever you want. You don’t have to schedule around nap time, meal time, or before bedtime. You can take your time or you can speed. You can take the top off your awesome sports car and drive haphazardly with no regard for the life of anyone other than yourself. You might worry about pedestrians and what-not, but you aren’t solely responsible for another life period.
One day it is highly likely that you will pull up to that same four-way stop and you will be the one in a minivan with cartoons blaring behind you. When you do, I want you to remember me. Realize that you are now me. It’s probably going to happen. Just so you know.
Until that day, rest easy in your ability to go places alone, sleep until noon, and drive a vehicle without a four-star safety rating.
Sincerely,
The Middle-Aged Mom in the Minivan
P.S. Do you think maybe sometime I could get a babysitter and we could hang-out, take a ride in your car with the top down, and listen to CDs? You like 90’s grunge bands, right? Just let me know.
Amy Mc says
At the beginning I was actually think back to Fried Green Tomatoes where I would want to tell “Taawaannnnda” ad put a big ole debt in the pretty little car because I’m older and have more insurance LOL but then again I remember those days when we were totally free from responsibility and life’s trials and didn’t even realize it!
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
I know what you mean! I was such a hellion when I was younger, I can’t say much.