By Michelle Hurst 
I saw an exhausted mom in front of me at Target the other day. Her cart was loaded with diapers and cheap wine. Her toddler was melting down in front of us both, and she did the only thing she could think of and cracked open a box of fruit snacks before they could be scanned.
She apologized, but I didn’t even let her finish. We’ve all been there. I told her it gets easier, but they get more expensive right as my own daughter tossed pricey moisturizer into the cart. This mom smiled at me wearily, and you could almost see her imagining a day that didn’t involve a five-point harness or a temper tantrum.
What I don’t tell her is that it is still exhausting. That one day, in a much nearer future than she could ever imagine, she’d be staring at her phone. Instead of enjoying the quiet, she’d be watching a little dot on “find my iPhone” to make sure her kid made it safely to her location.
My daughter turned 16 this week, which means she stressed over her driving test, and I stressed over the paperwork. My track record at the DMV is not good, but now my state allows you to upgrade your permit to a license online through an approved driving school. My daughter aced her test, and now like the rest of my family can parallel park better than me.
For the first time, I got all the right paperwork on the first try. We were both relieved, but unlike the DMV, you don’t walk out with a license in hand–you have to wait for them to approve the uploaded documents. It took longer than my daughter would have liked, which means she still needed a ride to school for a few more days.
I got to do something for the last time and knew it. I mean, sure, there will likely be days with questionable weather and/or car trouble. But for the next forever, she will have her own ride to school and back. I will not be texted in the middle of a meeting and asked to pick her up instead of riding the bus.
Most of parenting teens is a slow release, a letting go (and the rest is writing checks, checking grades, and worrying). Early on, it is all firsts—first teeth, first steps, first words, first days. But I have hit the stage of parenting when the lasts far outnumber the firsts. Last field day, last field trip to chaperone, last time I read a bedtime story, last time I pushed them on the swings, last time they needed help putting a straw in their juice box, last time I went to bed after my kid rather than before. Many of these lasts happen without me even realizing it.
So Friday, when my husband (after hitting snooze at least three times) looked at me and said, “Can you take her?” I happily obliged. I was actually hoping for it. I’m eager for her to grow and go to the store for me and for those extra minutes of sleep in the morning, but I was also happy for a last time to watch her grumpily grab her backpack and leave her breakfast in my car. Watching your kid back out the driveway solo for the first time is like hitting the accelerator on the lasts. From now on, I’ll be watching my kid leave and awaiting her return.
Earlier this week, my daughter asked to practice driving to school and then back. She told me to be quiet, to not remind her when to get over a lane or which way to turn. She drove to school easily, parked straight after a few tries, then practiced a route to another campus where she has an afternoon class. I managed to mostly stay quiet until she got turned around on her way home at a busy intersection. She quickly corrected, but I tried giving her all the routes she could possibly take to get back even if she made a wrong turn. She responded by telling me that she had already downloaded Waze.
I told her a story from shortly after I got my license but long before the invention of navigation apps. I was supposed to take a friend to the mall after school. She got into my car, we rolled the windows down and she fast-forwarded the music to the perfect song on my mixtape. A few turns later, my friend asked where the heck I was going and pointed out that the mall was in the opposite direction. Slightly embarrassed, I told her I only knew how to get places from my house. I drove home, then navigated easily to the mall. My daughter laughed at me, but as a girl who had just gotten turned around only one mile from her house, said she could relate.
“If you find yourself lost, kid, just head home. You can likely find your way from there.”
I meant in every single way I could convey, but I’m sure she didn’t catch my attempt at more than just driving advice, over Beyonce blaring from the radio. Waze or no Waze, home is a place I always want her to be able to find.
Until then, I’ll be busy tracking her routes on my phone.
by Jenny Albers 
