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Full Nest Syndrome

This article first appeared in issue 10, and was written by Marilyn Loy Turner.

New driver in family is whole new FNS experience

BEWARE. My son is out there somewhere with a new toy-a heavy, noisy, fast blue object made of metal. It's called a car.

That's right-my son, my baby, is driving now. Those blue eyes that used to plead for cookies are now scanning the road for fast food joints. Those hands that used to play "Pat-a-Cake" are now clutching a leather covered steering wheel and wringing my heart in the process. Where does time go?

The other day he took me for a ride. I acted just like he predicted I would. I wrapped my seat belt around me twice until it held me in a vice-like grip. Every time he took a curve, my fingernails found my teeth. Every hill we climbed sent my pulse rate up another notch. My stomach churned so much, it felt like I'd eaten road kill.

It's my fault. He was practically raised on the "Dukes of Hazzard." He cut his teeth watching the General Lee. For the longest time he thought "Uncle Jessie" was a member of our family!

Yesterday, I took him for a spin in my car but I was ill-prepared for his criticism. "Mom, you forgot to look at your blind spot. Hey, you're going over the speed limit," and "Watch that truck"!

I stopped and got out. "You take over," I said, exhausted from heeding his warnings. "You know more about driving than I do."

I had answered my own question. Where does time go?

It takes off in a blue Cadillac driven by my son.



This story was posted on 1996-12-14 12:01:01
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