The blip in our summer (not to mention my life)

Motherhood came easily for me. The reality of motherhood hit me the moment the nurse laid that first child in my arms. Responsibility--the weight was great, but the worry? That tipped the scale.

I learned all about worrying from my own mother. She was the queen of the verb. Calm, collected, and strong until it came to her children. Then she was a stranger, a lunatic that screamed, hands in the air pacing, running searching for the answer or for my father to solve whatever issue had arisen. I learned to sit and speculate on what could go wrong instead of right from her. I've maybe overtaken her title.

While my family was here, the night my cousin photographed the wedding, Darcy and her friends planned a late evening across the bay bridge. Now that these "kids" are "adults," late-night happenings are the rage. They planned to travel to Darcy's university, pick up the guyfriend, and travel even further to a ten o'clock appointment to play TopGolf. Because I didn't like them coming home after midnight, she and her friends agreed to spend the night in a friend's apartment, returning the next morning.

I didn't like any of it. One, we had company in town. Two, she doesn't even care about golf. Three, who the hell plays golf at night? I thought the whole thing stupid, and I worried; about them driving, about the nuts that drink and get on the road after midnight, about the trouble that could happen in that part of town. On and on. Apparently, so did the hubby, but then he decided he'd head to work off his worry and off he went to the Y.

Forty minutes later, the call came.

Darcy: "We've been in an accident. I'm fine, but it's bad. The car is totaled."

I reacted first as I'd watched my mother react countless times. My insides jumped, my heart bounced into frantic action, and I stumbled over my words, anger, worry, and desperation in my voice.

Darcy: "Mom, I'm fine. We both are. We're fine."

I heard it all. Her voice. My voice. I pictured my mother and how my kids hate when I react like her. I worked so hard at calming my voice, which was a Wonder Woman effort, believe me. But I chanted in my head, "she's okay, she's okay" as I dug deep and pulled forth the strength to be the strong, take-charge person she needed at the moment. I offered advice. I told her I'd get her father. 

I called the Y, got them to get him, gave him the story, sent him off to get her.

Then I lost it. She was on the Interstate--in eight lanes of traffic on the side of the road. Before an exit--standing with strangers in freaking Florida, where everyone is in a damn hurry. Drivers don't obey the law and get over into the far lane when they see an accident. And all of that was BEFORE I saw the pictures of the cars.

I'm just grateful my family was in town. Because I had to deal with picking them up, and having them with me gave me a sounding board and a peace. Darcy called multiple times; to let me know when the hubby got there to let me know they were going for food to let me know she felt fine. Of course, no one listened to my advice to go to the hospital, but that changed the next day when Darcy awoke with significant neck pain and a raging headache. I sent the hubby with her to the ER, where she was diagnosed with inflamed and strained muscles, tendons, and tissues, and sent home with three days of medication.

I spend a lot of time now sneaking into her bedroom to watch her sleep. I'd prefer to just sleep beside her, arms tightly around her, but....well, we parents know that isn't feasible. Every time I think of that night or see the picture, I lose a month or so of my life. I cry a lot. I'm so very grateful that she and her friend weren't severely hurt. Nor was the couple who hit them from behind and who were ticketed. I pray this is the last accident, that she pays close attention to driving details, understands why I am the way I am, and why I tell her the things I do.

Darcy: "The whole time we were on the side of the road, I freaked out about where everyone was standing. You're right. Drivers do not get over. They do not care that people are standing on the road involved in an accident. I kept hearing you tell me that on our drive to SC, and I kept pulling everyone back to the guardrail. I even had a plan if another car went awry. That was scarier than the accident itself."

Motherhood. A joy and a burden. Thankfully, the former outweighs the latter. I'll take that, please.