I watched my daughter at an A&P show when she was 7, attempting to drive a small car in an enclosed space, with supervision. She got airborne. The staff left me to it. They dived over the protection barriers. The people watching also ran away for their own safety. Small woodland creatures scurried back to where they had come from. I was too busy laughing and nearly wetting my pants to work out that I would have to teach her to drive one day.
Cue 2022. My visions of that show were clear in my mind. This, combined with her high level of confidence, left me with a sick feeling in my stomach. I had visions of jumping over the Dublin Street Bridge and into the river. However, I thought this would be a great chance to create memories and cement our relationship.
I'm learning more about myself in this process and my immense failings as a parent and a human.
I say "turn left", she turns right.
I say "do you know where we are going?" she says yes, and I end up in Bastia Hill, when we were due to go to Victoria Ave.
I say "STOP" on a pedestrian crossing, she nearly runs over a small boy and stops in the middle of the crossing.
What I have learned is that no amount of clinging to a door handle will stop a great big truck from hurtling towards you and no amount of negativity will help your child when they are learning to drive.
Teaching your child to drive is actually teaching you more about yourself. A lack of control is confronting. Fear is confronting. Anger with yourself is confronting. I came home, initially, so disgusted with how I had behaved towards my daughter in the car that I had to give myself a slap.
I thought I should be kinder towards her. I thought I should be more zen. Unfortunately, I wasn't in the queue for zen. I missed that party. I was just a bloody scared mother in a car with a 17-year-old who knew everything. Kill me now.
Two months in. I have learned to trust her driving. I don't cling to the door handle as much. I'm proud that at least I had the courage to teach her. I am ill-equipped. I'm sure most parents who take on this task are.
My dad taught me to drive. My mother was too scared. I had the same level of confidence as my daughter does. Dad said to me "Who the hell do you think you are. Stirling Moss?" I replied at the time "who the hell is Stirling Moss?" Clearly, I was filled with the confidence of a 15-year-old who knew everything (apart from who Stirling Moss was). I have had to dredge up my own bad behaviour as a teenager and recognise the same traits in my daughter. Oh, the shame.
I was 15 when I got my licence – as was the norm in 1986; however, as soon as the traffic officer told me I had it, I promptly drove up the gutter. Winner, winner, chicken dinner. I have had to remember these memories of myself and cut my child some slack. She is purely doing her job as a teenager. Parents know nothing, they know everything. What I have, though, are special memories. I look at my beautiful daughter driving a car and I feel so proud of her. I want her to feel that she can conquer the world. I'm amazed I made her, so the least I can do is teach her to drive.
I have learned how to get the best out of her and it most certainly is not with criticism. Not berating her, not using passive-aggressive sarcasm (my specialty). "Anyone who is appreciated will always do more than is expected of them." The kinder I am to my daughter in the car, the better she drives. I give her positive feedback and I watch as she sits taller and feels good about herself.
I have done this task and I feel sad. Sad that she will leave me and be everything I want her to be. It's the conflict of being a parent and I have a new appreciation for my own mother and father. I have had to stop and ask myself how I like to be treated at any one time and the answer is simple. With kindness.
I took on the task of teaching my daughter to drive, but it was me who learned lessons. Bless her - and the kid who nearly got run over on a pedestrian crossing.
