Fall is here

October 1st. Can you believe it? When I started this blog it was going to be all about finding myself. Figuring out who I am now that I'm someone else. Guess what? I still have no freaking idea!
My beautiful Mo is maturing by leaps and bounds, taking PSAT's and SAT's and ACT's and a bunch of other things I don't understand. I know it has something to do with college but what, I couldn't tell you. She wants to be a kindergarten teacher. I'm still wondering how she can possibly know what she wants to be when she grows up when I still have no clue, and I'm already a grown up!
Some days Mo is so sure of herself, she knows who she is and what she wants. I just want her to sit still and let me figure this out.
I'm a helicopter parent, I hover. Lovely image isn't it? If I could have put her in a bubble and protected her from the big bad world I would have, but I can't, society frowns on chaining your children in the basement. Don't they know whats out there?
Strangers, and cars, and boys and mean kids, and poison, and drunk drivers and pedophiles and aluminum foil in microwaves, and drugs and parents who let their kids drink and falling with scissors, the list goes on and on.
I know how it sounds, but isn't it my job to protect her? After all, I'm the mighty grown up and she is just a little girl who has no idea that in the right situation even candy can kill.
I am the parent that takes every freak story on the news and remembers it and designs my life to protect my child from just such a tragedy.
How many children are abducted? That's why she is never out of my sight.
How many children get decapitated by flying objects in a car during an accident? That's why there is never anything loose in the car.
How many children get hit crossing the street? That's why she couldn't cross the street by herself until she was twelve and why, even now if we are walking together and have to cross the street I reach for her hand.
How many children get high sniffing sharpies? That's why the sharpies are hidden in my room.
I could go on and on and on. Really, the things that I worry about are infinite. If I call her and she doesn't answer the phone I'm sure something horrible has happened. When she finally answers the phone she gets a lecture about "What's the point in having a phone if you never answer the damn thing? I though aliens abducted you." It could happen.
My only source of comfort in this helicopter life is knowing that I'm not alone. my nephew is 18 and still not allowed to eat Cap'n Crunch cereal, he choked on it once when he was three. His mom has never forgotten.
Just the other day I was thinking that life will be easier when Mo is 18 and I don't have to worry about her. I was talking to Joyce about teenagers, driving, boys, grades, all the drama that goes on.
Joyce, the mother of three grown daughters said, "I'm so glad that I don't have to do that anymore, so glad my girls are grown." Then she said, " I hope my granddaughter will not be a follower in junior high." And I realized, it never ends, absolutely never, and what's worse, those children you worry about will one day have children of their own for you to worry about.
Kill me now.