Mom on the Run: Who’s the spoiled driver?

Lianne Wilkens/Columnist
Published: June 8, 2008

My husband drops his bomb over dinner. We're talking about our missing daughter; she's gone a lot these days. Schoolwork has been light, and evenings are homework-free. The warm weather has brought shorts, flip-flops, and summer fever. And now that she's driving, she's out and about with friends, putt-putt golf or the movies or "just hanging out," instead of staying home with us.

"My trip is going to be tough on her," my husband comments. I look up—trip?—and he looks at me archly, surely I remember: "My week in Richmond? I'm taking the car." Ah, I think, and nod. Riiiight. Richmond. The car makes sense for the trip, its mileage is better than the truck's, it's more comfortable, it'll be easier to park and get around in. But he's the only driver insured on the truck, and I need my minivan, so our daughter will be completely without wheels.

We look at each other and smile, a knowing, little sharing—ha ha, that will be funny. Our 16-year-old has only been driving since February and trips depend on vehicle availability and permission, but so far it hasn't been an issue, and she pretty much gets to go where she wants, when she wants. So the loss of the car for a whole week … her reaction is going to be amusing and, we agree silently, a good reminder of who really controls the keys.

But after dinner I glance at the calendar, actually look at those days. And my smile disap-pears.

Monday is clear, there's nothing. Excellent. Tuesday, though: "Last day of school early dismissal!" I wrote it in pencil, months ago, wrote it big and happy. And last day of school, early dismissal—she's going to want to drive, so she won't have to take the bus and so she can do something afterward.

Well, that's OK, I think. She doesn't have to drive, and I'll be home early.

Wednesday, though, has more writing: "11:15 ortho." Shoot. That's my 13-year-old's monthly appointment. I made that plan a month ago, chuckling when I did it: "Sure, 11:15 is fine! There's no school, his sister can bring him!" Oh, it was a delightful plan; at last! But now … argh. Well, I'll just have to use my lunch hour. I move on.

Over Thursday and Friday, I've got "Dad?" written lightly. That's a pro-ject for my daughter. My sisters and I have planned a group birthday and Father's Day gift, and it depends on my daughter being available to go one day that week to deliver it and set it up. "It'll be perfect," I told my sisters back in January when we concocted the plan. "She can drive herself down and stay however long she needs to."

But now, "Richmond" is written on the calendar. And apparently "Richmond" means "No car." Darn it! I almost stamp my foot, standing there looking at the calendar. I was counting on her driving!

And it's not so amusing anymore, I'm the one learning the lesson, and I remember why I don't like being the only one holding the keys.

Lianne Wilkens lives with her family in Manassas. She can be reached at .