My mom told me a story last week about my sister and her boyfriend.

She told me that my sister, who is 40 now, went on a date with a boy in high school.

My mom is 60, so keep in mind that they didn’t have phones back then.

Anyway, the date picked my sister up in a 1960s Studebaker, and took my sister to a beautiful Italian restaurant; he was nothing short of completely classy when meeting my parents. But once they sat down, the waitress came over in a panic, so he immediately thought he did something wrong. They hadn’t even ordered yet.

The waitress proceeded to tell my sister that our mother had called the restaurant telephone, wondering if her daughter had arrived yet. The waitress panicked, as she thought something was wrong; that there was a family emergency or that someone had died.

But my sister just laughed, partly because she was nervous about the first date impression she was making but mostly because she knew the reason behind the call-- my mom just wanted to make sure she got to the restaurant OK (it was only down the street).

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If you are anything like me, then you have parents that have sheltered and protected you for as long as you can remember.

As soon as I reached the age of becoming a fully functioning human, I have hated the fact that I have overprotective, crazy, overly-grandmotherly parents.

When I was younger, more foolish and so naive, I used to get embarrassed that I had an overprotective mother and father. Now, I couldn’t imagine them being any other way, and I thank them for being possessive.

I can vividly remember the times that my mom would call me, asking if I got there OK, how long I was going to be there, who I was with, when I was using the bathroom, when I would have to breathe, etc. Hell, today she called me 30-seconds after I didn’t answer her text, because she thought that because I didn’t answer her “lol," I was captured and taken to an underground cellar starring in a Olivier Megaton film.

I used to get so irritated that my mom would interrupt my time with my friends, as if drinking horribly made mixies or watching “Pretty Little Liars” was more important than talking to my mom.

Now, if I ever get the chance, I thank my mom for being so overprotective. She’s the reason I don’t walk alone to my car, the reason I don’t share my drinks with anybody and the reason I don’t trust anyone, especially a boy.

If you happen to be reading this, it means you probably have an overprotective parent. Coming from someone who has had first hand experience with them, mark my words when I say that you should be nothing but thankful and appreciative of the people who protect you.

So, thank you Mom and Dad for babying me.

Thank you for having to meet every single boy I go on a date with. Thank you for not letting me take long car rides alone. Thank you for showing me that when you truly care about something or someone, you need to have tabs on them at all times. Even though I hate that I have to remember to text you when I get somewhere, that I despise when you watch me walk to the mailbox and that I loathe the days where you don’t let me out of the house because you “want me home," I love you, and I wouldn’t want you any other way.