Control

A dead armadillo lies on the corner of Spring Cypress and Rockhill Grove.

I know this because my daughter pointed it out as we drove to Tae Kwon Do last nght.

I say "we drove," though to be more accurate, it was she, not I, who was behind the wheel. I sat in the passenger seat, my knuckles white as I clutched the door handle, my foot pressing the imaginary brake on the floor. I was gripped with fear.

This fear has lessened over the past week, though not to the point of disappearing entirely. Like all things new or uncomfortable, it shall pass. But in the meantime, I am trying to decide how best to handle the terror that has befallen me as I travel, the passenger of an unlicensed, permit-holding, unskilled, inexperienced 15-year-old on the streets of Houston - even suburban Houston.

Tonight she wanted to drive home from Tae Kwon Do, show her friends how she had mastered the minivan.

But I wasn't quite up for it. Luckily, a friend's dad backed me up. "I'll be on those roads, either in front of, or behind you," he said with a chuckle. "I'd be a whole lot more comfortable with your mom behind the wheel."

My dear friend Helen called me today, and she and I discussed these, as well as many other, thoughts related to parenting. I'd like to say she and I solved them all. Alas, we have a few loose ends remaining.

We discussed my desire to return to work, in a real work setting, not the pseudo-work environment of my home office, where I create fascinating journalistic masterpieces on life with children, or upscale life in Galveston.

It's about getting out of the house, dressing up for work. And being in control.

"And about people having to listen to you," Helen offered. "Or if they don't, you have the power of retribution."

Exactly. Does this woman know me or what? No wonder she and I are friends.

Control over my children. I still retain some; I get to veto the late-night popcorn or movie watching when it's not deemed appropriate. I maintain the right to withhold privileges or money when the behavior does not warrant such luxuries.

But try as I might, I can't keep them from driving. Because that would be cruel and unusual. I may be a lot of things, but cruel is not one of them.

Well, at least, not yet.

Tonight, a buzzard-looking creature had landed next to the dead armadillo. Wonder how to deal with that ....