Driving Ms. Bettye

It's been in the works for the last seven years. And Thanksgiving weekend, it happened. It was almost a relief, really. Because, well, I'm not perfect. And now, my mother-in-law knows it, too.

I've maintained a healthy relationship with her. In all honesty, I love her dearly. We talk (okay, she talks and I listen) almost weekly. She comes up and stays with us some weekends and we go shopping (okay, she wanders around aimlessly, while I smile patiently and hold back a blood-curdling scream). I don't think I've ever given her cause to talk bad about me to her other children, or pray for her very life. Until Wednesday.

She let me drive. Her new car. In the rain. On the interstate.

You would have thought I had taken a needle to my veins before trying to drive her car. That's how far I dropped in her eyes. Yes, I went 65mph, but the speed limit was 70. Apparently, that was just not slow enough for her. If another car put on his brakes, a half mile in front of us, she would yell, "Whoa, whoa. They're slowing up." Then she would stomp on her imaginary brakes.

Fun times, I tell ya.

But, the best part came when Justin betrayed me. He actually told her that he won't ride with me. That's all it took. I'm forever branded the bad driver. I heard the story of her car ride with me 4 times in 3 days.

"Did you know that it's so bad, her own husband won't ride with her? I'm not surprised, you know. I was scared. Scared, I tell you. I should have told her to pull over and let me get somebody to pick me up. And it was raining. Won't happen again. No way."

That's fine with me. I hate driving, so it's a free pass for me. And, if that's all she has on me after 7 years, I'm in good shape.

Because, I promise, there are lots of worse things. She just hasn't found out about them yet.