toilet and leaving her unsupervised for all of 58 seconds. I returned to assurances she’d eaten both pieces and it was “delicious mummy.”
Liam’s now got his very own means of spending even more time away from home.
Of course I called her bluff.
I’m not a helicopter mum by any means, but there’s certainly been comfort in knowing his whereabouts as playing chauffeur gave me a little bit of control.
Then I started hunting, as there’s no way she’d eaten one piece, let alone both. She told me smugly they weren’t in the bin. And indeed she was right. After much coaxing she retrieved them...from underneath the couch!
His P-plates haven’t arrived yet, but it’s now just a matter of time. He’s done all his hours, there have been no more encounters with street signs of any description and the car keys are almost burning a hole in his pocket.
Give me strength. Please.
Like other parents before me, pride and panic are jostling for prime position. I know there will be many sleepless nights ahead waiting for my babyfaced young man to pull his little white Hyundai into the driveway.
And tonight’s dinner performance was almost as bad! Given the oldie-but-goodie choice of ‘eat it or straight to bed’... she chose bed. At just 10 past 6, starving and stubborn. Looks like we’ll be in for a cracker of a day tomorrow! It’s really just a matter of soldiering on, isn’t it? Sigh..... ‘til soon Shari x
dear diary.
The last time I wrote, it was to grizzle about the littlest family member potentially morphing into a chicken nugget. Today I need to tell you about my oldest, Liam.
What’s he done? He’s gone out and bought himself a car. And I don’t think I was at all prepared for the inevitability of this momentous occasion. I think what I’m struggling with most, is knowing
Normal, right? Occasions like this have me wondering how I even came to be the mother of a 17 year old, let alone one so eager to embrace the independence of youth, all without needing me so much these days. Maybe I’m redundant? Almost but of course not quite yet as there’s still the four year old who needs to learn table manners and the value of vegetables. I’ll admit to being a little reflective and nostalgic. Sigh. But to cut the soppy sentimentality short. I’m eagerly anticipating the first occasion I have to call on him for a taxi service home. And, yep, you can bet it will be in the middle of the night..... from a party... even if staying up past 9.30pm will exhaust me for days.
It’s called payback, isn’t it? ‘til soon Shari x
Shari Brewer lives on the Sunshine Coast in Queensland with her family and these diary entries may or may not be a truthful account of her day-to-day experiences. She’s never been shy of a story, so it’s best you decide what’s fact or fiction. A mother of three (two teens and a preschooler) Shari’s a part time high school teacher who keeps herself busy running a household as well as the parenting website Teenage Survival Coach. In her spare time she clatters on the keyboard and pimps her writing services as a freelancer.
Visit Shari here on her website, Teenage Survival Coach.
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