The captive audience
Driving my adult kids where they need to go is for me, not them
The best parenting advice I ever received came from a woman whose 21-year-old son had just moved out of the house. My own boys were nine and ten at the time.
“Be the chauffeur,” she advised.
She elaborated further, explaining that by being the mom-taxi you’ll get to know their friends. You’ll know where they live. You’ll be privy to every conversation.
“Just drive and listen,” she said. So I did.
Most of the things I overheard made me aware of just how stupid I must have sounded as a kid. Some stuff made me cringe. I tried to listen without looking like I was listening. I became such an invisible fixture that these kids talked about things and used language that no mother really wants to hear. But more than anything, I observed how my boys’ friends treated them. I never interfered, but I was able to prepare myself to be their support when, ultimately, they were hurt by the actions and words of someone who was supposed to be a friend.
Now that my children can drive themselves where they need to go, I have fewer opportunities for close and quiet conversation. I am so thrilled when one of them needs a lift somewhere. For 15 to 30 minutes (sometimes longer), I have a captive audience.
Last week, as I drove our eldest to the train station, he asked me a question about my upcoming book launch party. That led to a deeper conversation about friendship, in particular, a friendship I recently dissolved.
“I’m sorry that happened to you, mom,” he said. I was proud of this young man for showing empathy, but I had something more important to teach him.
“Thank you, but I did it to myself,” I told him.
I explained how there were signs early in the relationship that this was not going to work out, but I ignored them or brushed them aside. She had once said something so hurtful and hateful that I still feel the sting of those words after five years.
“Always listen to your instincts,” I said. “If you keep a shitty friend, you won’t have the time or energy to find a better one.”
He nodded and that was the end of the conversation. He’s 19. I don’t need to press an issue. It’s enough to trap him in the vehicle and force him to listen for a few minutes.
He leaned into the car before he shut the door. “Bubble tea later?”
I nodded. This was our code. He was the one who got me hooked on bubble tea. He sang its virtues, listened to my protests about it, and then invited me to be more open-minded about it. So when he mentions bubble tea, he’s confirming he heard me, he’s thinking about what I said, and he wants to affirm with boba balls.
The book launch party for Shift has one seat left. If you booked a seat but can no longer make it, please cancel. If you want to join the celebration, reply to this email and I will build a wait-list.
What I’m reading
Jeff and I were supposed to be on a plane to Las Vegas today. We cancelled due to the recent cyberattack on MGM Resorts (we stay at one of their properties). So instead of sitting by the pool with a drink or playing penny slots, I’m home with bonus reading (and writing) time. I’m working on The Sentence by Louise Erdrich. I gave up on this novel more than once, but something kept pulling me back. It’s not what I expected, but I am enjoying the journey.
Happy reading, friend.
XO
Dana
I love this. My sister gave me the same advice!