So Libby got her license

So Libby got her license.  Whoa.  The enormity of that and the finality of her being a licensed driver is setting in.  I’m not handling this, “Libby growing up” thing well at all.  She made some comments about senior portraits next year and I changed the subject.  She and Tim have been talking colleges and it is like he doesn’t even care about ME.  He is okay with her looking at school’s as far away as LACROSSE people!  That’s 45 minutes.  There are two perfectly good colleges just 30 minutes away.  In all seriousness, I almost got weepy just typing this so let’s move off of the fact that next year she graduates and just focus on the fact that she can drive a car.  By herself. I think she needs this in all the vehicles.

How do all you parents survive this?  Every time she leaves my heart leaves with her.  I know I can’t wrap her in bubble wrap, but… wait… I haven’t really tried that yet.  Maybe I can wrap her in bubble wrap?  Hmmmmm… (Change Jace to Libby and yeah- pretty accurate.)

Carter is also in driver’s training so we will have another teen driver soon.  He’s been sharing what he’s learning in driver’s training and small engines with Libby and I.  And basically, yeah, we know nothing.  I told him I could put windshield wiper fluid in.  He wasn’t even impressed.  Libby was pretty sure she can’t even do that, but did know that a car doesn’t need blinker fluid.  I told the story how I maybe ran a car out of water when I was a kid and my dad was furious as it did something to the motor?  And I was like, “How was I supposed to know it needed water?  What was I supposed to do?  Drive it to the river to get a drink?”  

I also admitted I don’t know how to change a tire.  I remember talking to a guy once about wanting a Town and Country with the Stow N Go.  He tried to talk me out of it because the spare tire was stored under the driver’s seat and was a pain in the butt to get to.  I still recall the incredulous look I gave him when I asked if I looked like the kind of person who has the foggiest idea how to change a tire.  

I do notice when my car makes even the slightest funny noise though.  I attribute it to many years of driving junk.  You learn to be wary of noises that equal sitting on the side of the road and waiting to be rescued.  But mechanics are notorious for giving you funny looks when you try to explain the “ssshhh ssshhhh” noise or the “barrrum, baripity, crunching” noise.  I don’t understand why?  And why is it that the damn vehicle never acts up when they test drive it?  It’s like they can sense my fear.  

Here’s hoping Libby is a little better about knowing and understanding cars and mechanics than I am.  But knowing how much of a clone she is, doubt it.  So here’s hoping her grandpa’s and future significant others keep taking care of her.