Zero degrees. Zero regrets. The honest truth about what actually works in parenting — from someone who got it mostly right.

Last weekend I went to see Luke Combs with my son.

I was not supposed to be there.

His friend’s father had invited him on a guys’ weekend. Golf at their vacation home, Luke Combs on Saturday night, the whole thing his treat. He called me to tell me about it, and somewhere in the middle of that conversation, he said:

“Mom, come with us, I’m sure they won’t mind. Just buy a ticket.”

So I did.

And standing in that crowd on Saturday night, surrounded by my son and his friend and his father, singing along to songs I only half knew, I kept thinking: how did I get here? Not at the concert. In this life. With this kid, who still wants his mother around.

I don’t want her taking the subway by herself late at night. I don’t want her walking by herself late at night. And I certainly do not want her to be reliant on a date, especially on a first date, to get herself home.

One Friday evening, my father told my youngest brother that the two of them would be getting up early the next morning to do yard work. It was not a negotiation. It was information.

That same night, my brother told my parents he was going to a friend’s house. What he did not mention was that the friend’s house had been replaced, for the evening, by a high school party happening just around the corner from our home. He went. He proceeded to get very drunk.