My daughter is in NYC tonight visiting her father. I drove her to Kansas City earlier where I left her at the gate, and she, the full fledged seventeen year old she is, headed off to her gate, ipod in ears, burrowed protectively down in her songs. I called her an hour and a half later, and she had just landed in Milwaukee for her layover, and, guess what, mom?, the stewardess forgot to give me and my seatmate peanuts! We had to ask for them! She, reassuringly, still needs me to know this.

I called her an hour and a half later, and she was already at stepmother's parents, fully emerged into Dominican Republican flare, far from the midwest, surrounded by tall multi-eyed structures. Secured in the City.

She had been reluctant to go. Other classmates' parents had allowed them to travel to Panama City, Florida, alone. I had been oldfashioned and mean. We had more than too many heated discussions about my decision. Thankfully, she's where she is, supervised, parented.

And now, a breather from the teenager. Like my brother, I must agree parenting the teen is difficult; we've had a tumultous past two months which has stretched me into unbelievable postures and places. I believe I'm going to enjoy my week off, even though still as my child, she's ever present in my mind. Secured in my heart, she'll be waiting on Friday, half kid, half adult, sighing, aaaaaghhhhinng, primed for another go around, which I won't think about until Friday. :)