The rite of passage line starts here

At the door to the Texas Driver’s License field office, the Friday before school starts.

Seven in the morning. Doors open seven-thirty.

By the time we get to the information desk, we are number 84.

Sydney holding her number with number being served in the background.

Waiting and waiting in the endless line. Standing room only.

But I am getting ahead of myself. Because to get here, you have to go here. Where it all begin….behind the wheel.

A year ago, my daughter started the dreaded drivers ed at school, which included manual training. The one in which your fifteen year old knows more about road rules than you and is not afraid to point that out. Of course, this is BEFORE she even drives a real car. After weeks of classroom time, the ~~brave dedicated drivers ed instructor~~ teacher paying for his Harley, takes the little darlings (that must be some Harley) out on the road. Then, he deems them worthy of a getting a permit to drive YOUR car – with you “instructing” (or cowering in fear) your child yourself. It was at that time, I could only WISH for the droning correction of road violations and inches from the curb or corner, rather than – the floorboard stomping, rear bucking, clinging to the passenger door handle with all my might – ride of my life. Imagine going from annoying trivia to downright death-gripping terror.

Over and over and over.

There was not a happier soul than me on this child’s 16th birthday. SWEET SIXTEEN. Dreams of the DPS; a license waving, smiling child-o-mine warranted safe for the roads. Whoopee! I would be FREE.

Except I wasn’t. Unfortunately, we didn’t practice parallel parking. More unfortunate? That’s the first thing they make them do. If they can’t? They fail.

Didn’t I ask her if she could parallel park? Why yes, yes I did. Her answer, we did it once in driver’s ed. Do you feel comfortable testing? [:shrugs:]

In all honestly, I failed my parallel parking, but the nice DPS officer – dad of my brother’s best friend – passed me anyway. We were hoping she could be marked off for that and move on. But that wasn’t so. According to the strict, leather pant wearing (even I was intimidated) female DPS officer, you did have to pass that, or fail.

Crap.

So she failed, then she headed off to Mississippi for the summer with promises of practicing driving EVERY day. Her dad assured me, he would take her on the road and do his parental duty. He would step up and partake the same ~~hell~~ instructing, I had done the last six months.

Ah, but see, there is a little problem. What he did not tell me (and still hasn’t, but I figured out on my own thankyouverymuch) is that he has a phobia. it’s not very known, in fact, I couldn’t find the correct term. Fear of riding in the car with a teenage driver. But it’s something like amaxoephebiphobia (your welcome). Yeah. This is a real issue. Like spiders.

So she comes back from two months of bliss with absolutely NO ROAD DRIVING PRACTICE at all, but a really nice beach tan to show off. And do you know what that means in the feeble facebook, text messaging, iPhone, MTV mind of a teenager? We start ALL OVER. I assure you, there is no memory of driving skills. I re-take my place of PAIN in the passenger seat, except this time we add in parallel parking practice upon every outing.

I insist on the busy streets. I insist on parking between two cars. I insist on highway driving. I insist on everything that makes me cringe and weep. It’s a rite of passage. She must be a driver (to get to school, the mall, work). And we did, we drove everywhere – curbs, medians – you name it. All to build up to that day. THE DAY she tests again. When she is finally ready. That day when I can finally ride in the car with her, play words with friends on my iPhone, not stomping, not bucking, not worrying, if I will smack the windshield with my face. Just glancing here and there, playing my words. Ahh. Finally.

So we head to the DPS where begins our line. Our number. Our long wait.

Oh. Mm. Gee.

And then.
They run out of driving tests ten numbers before ours is called.

And then.
We wait in line anyway hoping they have pity on us.

And then.
They don’t and we leave frantically driving and calling other DPS offices.

And then.
They are all full too.

Anyone else a, Dude, Where’s my car fan? Heh.

And then.
We try the country. Cleburne. Because Cleburne is NEVER busy and Cleburne DPS office actually answers their phone and still had driving spots open.

And THEN.
It took us an hour to get there.

AND THEN.
The line looked liked this!

Grrr!

They ran out of spots while waiting in line.

And then…….
I called mercy. Uncle. It. Just. Wasn’t. Happening.

Crushed, we left. All that work, and she didn’t even get a chance to try.

I know you think, well, no problem – just go back the next day. But see, the drivers ed paperwork expired. So she had to re-request that, and then wait to get it back. School started, and there ya go. Another few weeks fly by.

Until yesterday, when we ventured back for another beating. DEEP BREATHS. Seven AM, you guessed it. Already a line formed for when they open at seven-thirty, but thankfully not as long. I refuse to get there with my lawn chair at four am. Refuse. By the time we got all the paperwork filled out, new thumb prints, and cute smiling little pic in front of the blue screen. The first road test opening was noon or three. She had school. I had work. I asked if a non-parent could bring her back for the driving test and they said yes. So, we got a three pm slot with Jason picking her up from school and taking her to it. I was disappointed to miss it. I really was. I wanted to see her face and give her a hug, win or lose. But it just didn’t work out, and you can’t say I didn’t try.

However, I am marrying the most wonderful man in the world. Even though, I wasn’t there. He texted me every moment. He knew how much it meant to me. He knew how long we practiced (and him too).

The officer beginning the test.

Sydney parallel parking like a champ.

She passed, she did it! Yay!

No one told me how emotional this would be. How hard and how rewarding.

Congratulations Sydney! You are a licensed driver in Texas and successfully completed a child’s (and parents) rite of passage. I am so very proud of you.

Now about that driving by yourself thing? Well, I think we need just a tad more time before we are ready. Maybe, we can follow behind you? Just for a little while……

Country Girl goes Big

On May 20, 2010May 20, 2010 By AngeliaIn Life is what you make it., The good the bad and the beautiful43 Comments

Big city that is. Her days in the country being packed away into the back of a horse trailer hitched to a big Dooley truck. Off it would head, south from Oklahoma, straight into the heart of the big city – Dallas, Texas. Nothing could stop her. No one could tell her the risks, the realities, or the brisk way of life. Nope. She was eighteen. She knew what she wanted. She knew better than anyone.

Since age thirteen, she wanted to beat a path to the city. The bigger the better. Her one horse town, without even a stop light, just wasn’t cutting it. Where was the excitement? The interesting jobs? The interesting people? Where? In the city, that’s where. In this dusty place, she would find the same ol’ dreary life as everyone else. Her jaw set, her chin pointed up, and there was grit in her eye. She was MOVING. Moving to the city. She would survive it and no, she wasn’t coming back. Ever.

It didn’t take long to pack up her stuff. Her childhood bed. Her one dresser, nightstand, and desk. Even her classic lingerie chest. Yes, she had a lingerie chest – skinny and tall. The furniture was a gift from her Aunt Lizzie when she was a small child. Antiques is what her mom called them, whatever that means. It would do until she could buy more contemporary stuff. Stuff city folk would use in their rooms.

She had purchased a couch. Wisely, she chose one with a pull-out bed, since the apartment was one bedroom. Unfortunately, it was heavier than Pappa’s old gun safe. Also unfortunate? Being carried up a flight of stairs to her second floor newly rented apartment – in the city, mind you. Her dishes were a gift from her mother. Her TV a hand me down. Luckily the apartment had a fridge and a washer and dryer already.

After the long five-hour drive, and too many tanks of gas pulling a horse trailer, she arrived. The young girl from outside a plain Oklahoma town of twenty thousand, smack dab in the – everythings bigger -Texas, where she shared her air with several million others. What a rush.

Her first day wasn’t hard. She gathered all her furniture in place. No parents. No big sister. No big brothers. No authority. Just her and HER place. She twirled. She skipped. She bounced on the couch. Finally, she was on her own. Yahoooooo!

Finding her way around, without getting creamed proved the most difficult part. There were many highways with loops and exits. Following an exit ramp to what they called an access road just confused her. Was the yield sign to her, or to them? She always used caution and yielded, but still – confusing. Another tiny drawback, her job required that in case of emergency, she was back up delivery runner to the back up delivery runner. Yeah, seemed far-fetched, but guess what happened her first day.

In this year of 1990, the best way to navigate was to consult a map. Specifically map books, called Mapscos, for the Dallas, and surrounding areas. Looking up an address required finding it in the index, then it gave a page number, and a graph matrix code. Following the code and page number to your destination, which was only on one page. To access the entire route required investigating the pages it directed, as the before or after page, depending on which direction you coming from, or heading to. Huh? It was not easy.

As a country girl she knew landmarks; not street signs, not numbered routes, tollways, looped turnarounds, one-way lanes and certainly not all printed out on pages. Which way was North anyhow? But her first delivery. The pressure.

She hopped in the delivery car. Sure of her direction, sure of her map skills. Ignorantly confident. Important urgent document in hand to deliver as soon as possible. It was only twenty minutes away. No way could she get lost, at least that’s what the boss said.

She got lost. Hopelessly lost. Nothing matched the road maps. Nothing went the way it seemed. Each turn she thought was right – wrong. She was entirely off the map. The only thing she could find was the airport. AN HOUR went by. She cried, but refused to give up. TWO went by. Stubborn, and torn she called in. Shame burned. Country girl ruined. Beaten by the city. This was the life she chose?

Finally, the directions from the company she was delivering to led her there, she delivered and actually made it back without a problem. Facing her boss, however, would be. She was scared to death.

Rent. Furniture. Bills. A life started, and dreams potentially shattered, what would happen? Two and half hours it took her to take one item. Who in their right mind would keep, a bumbling bumpkin, like her on staff? She tucked her humiliation away, swallowed hard, and went to face the music. She entered into her bosses office head held high. But he just laughed at her and promised better directions next time.

Country girl vowed to never get lost on a delivery again. The city life was hers for the taking, and thus it began. A new beginning from open land to paved roadways. From empty spaces to shopping malls. From hometown girl to city slicker.

Success is never final, failure is never fatal. It’s courage that counts” -John Wooden

Photos by-Angelia Sims

*previously posted on Real Bloggers United*

You spin me right round, baby , right round

On July 15, 2009 By AngeliaIn Hate early mornings, Love ExercisingLeave a comment

Ahhhhh it’s 658am the sun is rising the birds are singing. Errrrr. STOP.

It’s 658am & I managed to get up at the unbelievable hour of 515AM out the door at 531AM & hit the gym for the spin class at 545AM. Yeah I typed that right. 545AM.

I debated last night about 11pm when I was going to sleep. Should I? Or shouldn’t I? I would turn my alarm on then promptly change it. (it was only slightly OCD)

Finally I told myself, OK, just leave it on & I can decide when it goes off in the morning. So here it was 515am & Big Country is blaring out of my phone speakers. For a second I was confused??? Didn’t I decide last night NOT to set my alarm for spin class? HA!

Five minutes of debating with myself about how tired I will be later vs how good I will feel to keep this “streak” going. How I didn’t want to go bymyself vs. WHO CARES IF YOU’RE BY YOURSELF.
Are we in JR High? Seriously!!!

So I put on my clothes, drank a BIG glass of water, took my Enlyten electrolytes & out the door I went.
Good news is that the 545AM spin class is only 45mins long not an hour. Wooo!

Alot of the same people that were there when I used to go before were there. I realized I haven’t been to that class in over a YEAR. Wow! But my cycle shoes still fit & I got my bike just right. My favorite instructor Maureen was teaching it still.

Honestly? It wasn’t near as bad as I thought. (let’s see how later goes) I am REALLY happy I went.
My legs feel great. My wrist got a little wonky the way I had to lean on the bike for balance but I rolled up a towel under it & it was fine.

So there ya have it!

I really didn’t mean for this blog to be about exercise but that is where I am at right now & any motivation & success I can write about the better to keep my MENTAL focus.

My eye is on the prize. Half marathon? Marathon? Triathalon?

Whatever it turns out to be I know Jason will be there at the finish line.
No medal or number or placement can compare to that.

HAPPY HUMP DAY!!!! May your Wednesday be as bright as mine.