This is my daughter, leaving the meeting on her motorcycle. She says its “cute from far, but far from cute.” It cost her $200. and is now her primary transportation. Oh, I don’t like seeing my dear one on this damn thing. I asked her to please stay off the highway, and unfortunately, we were on the same street for 20 blocks or so as we both drove to our homes. I had to look away and pretend I didn’t see her because it scared me so badly.
One of my friends at work – yes, I actually have a friend at work, and I am really grateful for her! – is a young mother. Her son got injured on Friday morning. I talked to her about how very squeamish I am. I was always a tough girl until I had kids.
When my son was 3, he fell off a swing set and cut his lip open. I took him to the hospital and the doc asked me to hold him while he stitched up his lip. I was fine with that, or so I thought. When the doc was done, he looked at me and said “are you all right?” I said “of course,” and then slid to the floor. That’s when I knew that something had changed inside of me.
It was so ridiculous, I was unable to take my children to the park, I would have my sister-in-law or other friends take them. If they climbed to the top of the sliding board I would panic – and then scare them. Even writing this makes my hands sweat. I am the same way with my grandchildren. Which makes me not that much fun as a grandma, unless you count my endless love and endless delicious food…. which I think kids do.
My friend, really good friend, celebrated 32 years of sobriety this morning at the meeting. We have a long history, and most of it is good. It was so good to be at the meeting. Why are different groups so very different? At this group, we actually talk about recovery from alcoholism, and people actually recover there. There is program, and there is fellowship, it is a great combination. I was invited to a barbeque this afternoon, but I didn’t go because it would use up some of the gasoline I need this week – it would have been about 50 miles roundtrip – and I already went 30 this morning to the meeting. And I have work to do. Would have loved to go though.
Sorry for this stream of consciousness… it is Sunday afternoon. The football game is on. I have work spread out on the coffee table and the sofa. It is the kind of work I love. Qualitative Analysis. Yay! This was my break, and now I guess it is over.
Search me, O God, and know my heart!
Try me and know my thoughts!
And see if there be any wicked way in me,
and lead me in the way ever lasting!
Psalm 139:23-24
onesobercatholic 
Please tell me this child is going to wear a helmet. I feel your pain, but I love motorcycles. I play both sides of the street, I’m afraid.
Also, I haven’t gone anywhere. I am depressed. And with that, I have nothing to write and little to share in the way of comments. But thank you for stopping by. That was kind 🙂
Hope that you are okay. I’ve missed you.
There is no helmet law in Colorado, therefore, she wears no helmet.
Very sorry to hear you are depressed. I hope the depression is short lived.
I haven’t been on a motorcycle since I realized how close my butt was to the ground on that thing. I was hanging on behind Dearest One as we were zipping down the highway when I realized that and it was all I could do to not freak out. There are more than one motorcycle loving people in my family and I would have to look away, too if I was driving behind them.
Not sure what kind of grandma I will be one day but I still prefer not knowing if my kids are going into what I count as dangerous situations.
Not knowing may be the best solution, once they are adults. Oh, the treacherousness of being a mother!
Your daughter is marching to her own drummer. I have a gentle love for those kind of people.
She’s a special “kind of people.”
When my kids would go to Astroworld (like Six Flags) I would always tell them to have a good time but don’t get on any of the rides. LOL
Sober daughters are a huge blessing with a lot of anxiety thrown in for good measure.
LOL
That’s a fact!
I am totally afraid of riding on a motorcycle. I have only ridden on one once, when I was a teen. Never again.
On a different note — working at home on a Sunday afternoon ——- hmmmmmmm.
I used to ride on them when I was younger. They always, always, always terrified me. But I tended to like the men who rode them, so I would gladly get on the back of one. And that may be a short version of why my life turned out the way it did.
I want to ride on a motorcycle again. I like those whose beat is to a different drummer as well. I just don’t want to have them totally in my life anymore. I can take them in small doses.
Sometimes God gives you one or two in big doses!
Love your sober daughter. And I so understand your fear.
Cool pic.