The big event that changes a working mother’s life



No one ever told me this day would arrive. If they had, I would have had the finish line in sight when I was a crazed working mother doing laps around the race track.

Today, my youngest child got a driver’s license. No words can express the difference in a working mother’s life this one event brings. I have spent years racing from an office to the aftercare pick up line.  I have spent hours shuttling children to and from activities. I have spent nights setting my alarm to wake up and do the morning carpool.

If you are like me, you know one the biggest challenge as a working mother is the logistics — getting children where they need to be, at the right time, with the right supplies. Oh, the guilt I have endured when I left my children in the hot summer sun, waiting in the camp carpool line for their mom who always managed to get tied up at the office. Oh, the looks I shrugged off when I arrived at the soccer field after my child had scored a goal.

Finally, the big day has come!!!! My days of being Mom the Taxi Driver are over. Seriously, think about it. Without needing to schlep my kids around everywhere, a huge chunk of my time has been restored.

As much as I wish my children could have stayed small and adorable and naive forever, I have earned this next stage — and I’m going to enjoy it.

Later this week, I will be going to the BlogHer17 Conference in Orlando. Normally, I’d be stressed getting ready to go away for three days. I would have had to figure out transportation for my children to get where they needed to go. Not this time!

Okay, I will admit I will miss the quality time I have spent with my children in the car. I will miss having them forget that I was driving when the car was full of their friends so I could eavesdrop on all the stuff moms aren’t supposed to know. I even will miss the blasting tunes from my radio as my kids and I jam together to songs I would never have known about on my own.

A part of me realizes that passing the driving test means a whole new world to a teen. It means independence and adventure. For me, it means hitting a milestone, too, one that I could never have imagined when I was changing my son’s diaper while answering a bosses questions on my cell.

So, yes I will celebrate, and then I will tell that frazzled working mother corralling her children into the car with soccer cleats in hand and a computer tote in the other that one hand that one day, she will be in my place. If she is like me, it won’t register. And then, with the blink of an eye, it will.

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