||[Jan. 26th, 2002|11:12 am]
Goofy morning, swapping anecdotes with three 15-year-old girls as they shower and change and get ready for their day of freedom.
They are here from their all-girls boarding school. They are off to meet boys. I am driving them to this date.
It is an odd thing to be the mother of someone who has reached the age of sexual blossoming, odder still to be considered the "cool mom." My daughter keeps few secrets from me, and for this I am grateful. Her appreciation of her own sexuality is healthy, and I encourage it.
But there is that part of me that worries. Not because she is likely to end up in the back of a car, but that she will do it in a stupid way that has life-shattering consequences.
Being the source of good advice isn't easy, even when 90% of your message is one they don't mind hearing. There's still the, don't ride with a drunk, don't let the moment carry you away if there's no "love glove" available.
At least she talks to me.