She's Driving

I spent two hours at the Texas DMV today.

And it wasn't for me.

Today was all about my eldest daughter getting her very own driver's license. It's an exciting moment for her, and a sobering one for me.

I remember so well that day in August of 1982 when my own mother went with me to the office in downtown Springfield, MO, to take my driver's test. I remember what I was wearing (big surprise, huh, Tammy?!?): Levi's jeans, a pink IZOD shirt, and sandals; I remember what I drove (my parents' silver 1978 Ford Granada - but I was quickly given permission to drive their 1966 blue Ford Mustang ... what a car ...) I had heard all the horror stories about the local test - the cranky woman examiner (got her) who did not wear a seatbelt, even when you asked her (pre-seatbelt laws), the parallel parking, the tuning fork - designed to control all of the traffic in the downtown - what a laugh.

I passed the test, and listed my weight at 90 lbs. Smiled sweetly for that photo. And walked out with a full-fledged driver's license.

Feels like yesterday. But we are a few years, and a few pounds, past that day. Today I was there with my own 16-year-old daughter. She actually took the driving exam in driver's ed (which she took at a private school, as it's not offered as part of the school curriculum), so today was merely turning in the paperwork, getting the photo taken, and writing the check. She did not write down 90 lbs for her weight, but we did only pay $5 for her first-time license. (And this process still took two hours, most of which was spent standing in line. But boy are they serious about queue etiquette - I saw more than one person being told by the officials there that they had been observed cutting - thank goodness for law and order!)

Her license has some restrictions on it. She has to renew it annually until she is 18; she has to provide proof that she is enrolled in school. She has a curfew, as well as a limit on how many passengers under 18 she can have in the car. Just as well.

Tonight she took each of her sisters out for a little solo spin around the neighborhood. I told her she can drive to a friend's this weekend. But we're taking it slowly.

And to secure my place as an official mother of a driver, I splurged for the +1.00 readers the eye doctor suggested, in lieu of bifocals. May as well cement my status, huh? I'm no longer an ingenue, no longer the parent of little girls. At least one of these little girls is nearly an adult - she certainly has adult responsibilities now. But it's OK - really. Looking at her and the person she is becoming, it's all worth a few wrinkles around the eyes.

Lucky for me, the way my eyesight is changing, in a few years I won't be able to see them at all ...