Channeling Debbie

My daughters call me Debbie Downer. If you don't know, Debbie is a character from Saturday Night Live who finds the cloud in every silver lining. No matter what positive remark someone else makes, Debbie has a fact or statistic to curdle their happiness. Friend: "I just got a new kitten!" Debbie: "Feline AIDS is the number one killer of domestic cats." Her dire pronouncements are followed by a musical postscript: "WAH, WAH."
The girls think that I, like Debbie, want to suck all the joy from their carefree college existences. That's not true. I think of it as Mom-on-the-Job, the devil's advocate, pointing out hidden dangers that would never occur to them in their youthful and invincible outlooks. For example, after Erica's snake, Squirt, died a few months ago, she wanted to give away his aquarium and other paraphernalia. She found some guy on Craigslist who was interested in the stuff. As soon as she told me this, I super-speed-sifted through the gloom and doom files in my maternal gray matter, and warning bells started ringing. "I remember reading about a girl who answered an ad on Craigslist and was murdered when she went to buy the couch," I told her. As I said it, I realized that this was actually a Law and Order episode I'd seen--but still...it could happen. I told her not to let the guy into her apartment, to meet him at the outer door of her building with the items, and to leave his phone number and name in a conspicuous spot in case the police needed the info later. (WAH, WAH) Even though she ridiculed my concerns, she did follow through on meeting him at the outside door, and the exchange went without incident. Now that the "Craigslist Killer" has been arrested out East, doesn't my paranoia seem a little more reasonable??
Last weekend Katie wanted to drive to St. Cloud to visit her friends there from freshman year. I have 30 more years of driving experience than she does, and Twin Cities traffic makes me nervous--so I was extremely reluctant to let her drive. "Can't you take the bus? You'd be driving in rush hour traffic on a Friday night, into the sun, with no navigator." (WAH, WAH) She grumbled and argued, but bought a bus ticket anyway. The Greyhound was over an hour late leaving Eau Claire, and she was hit on by a weirdo before they were even past Menomonie. (I didn't even recount to her the story about the guy who cut off his seatmate's head on the bus a year or so ago!) She got there and back safely, and now she has another travel experience under her belt. I promise to let her drive herself next time.
I know I can't protect them from everything and that my worrying just annoys them. I went through it with my parents, too, when I was younger. But since they're still (mostly) just laughing at me and haven't told me to butt out, I'll continue to be their Debbie. After all, it's a fact that kids who don't listen to their mothers have a 100% chance of getting in trouble. (WAH, WAH)

Here's a link to a Debbie Downer skit, just to prove I'm not quite as pessimistic as she is. And, I have better hair. http://www.hulu.com/watch/19280/saturday-night-live-debbie-downer-birthday-party