Oh Yes—The Teenage Taxi Driver Life
If you’ve ever spent more time in your car than your own house, chances are—you have a teenager.
I used to think driving kids around meant a yearly Well-Child Checkup and the occasional Irvine Park playtime. Adorable, right? Fast-forward to today, and I’m basically running a personal transportation service that spans the entire county and possibly parts of three neighboring ones.
On any given day, my itinerary includes:
School (because some of us cannot remember to grab their gym shoes, shorts, or other urgently needed items)
A practice or game in the next town over
A friend's house who “lives close” (translation: 27 minutes away)
Some mysterious event I didn’t even know was on the calendar but somehow became urgent
I’ve become intimately familiar with back roads, shortcuts, and gas station bathrooms. I have strong opinions about drive-thru wait times. I keep an emergency hoodie, three phone chargers, and random basketballs, gloves, and softballs in my trunk because you just never know.
Sometimes I’ll glance in the rearview mirror and think, Didn’t I used to listen to the Oldies and feel fancy and free? Now, it’s all group chats, forgotten cleats, and me yelling “What time did coach say you needed to be there!?”
The kicker? They don’t often show much gratitude. They just slide in the car, earbuds in, vibes off. Occasionally they toss a “thanks” my way, usually when bribed with Taco Bell or threats that I’m not raising no ungrateful girlies. (This is humor - sorta. They are good kids. But they are kids, ya know?)
And yet—I keep showing them undeserved grace. I take them where they need to go. Because these miles, chaotic as they are, are weirdly precious. It's where I get the random conversations that mean so much to me.
And—light at the end of the tunnel—my oldest is getting her license soon!!! Which is exciting! Terrifying. And let’s be honest... probably going to double my insurance bill and triple my prayer life.
But anyways, if you see me flying down the road with two teenagers, fast food wrappers, and a slightly crazed look in my eye—no you didn’t. I’m just doing laps around the county, powered by caffeine, GPS, and sheer mom determination.
