Marine Post: Take Two

From last Monday:

The younger son said to me earlier,

I think you're about as good as a forty-year old can get.

I'm not exactly sure what that means, but it made me laugh nonetheless. The fact that he shaved a few years off my age didn't hurt either. You gotta wonder at times what goes through the minds of these kids.

It would appear that a military recruiter has set his sights on that boy of mine. Not surprising in the least, if you know him at all, but still a tadbit troubling from the mother point of view. I think about my own mom and wonder what she thought about such things- she went through it twice. I think about my estranged mother-in law and feel a foreign twinge of empathy- she was told her firstborn had signed up only hours before he actually left AND it was on Thanksgiving Day.

Yes. The firstborn I went on to marry, but that's another story.

For now, it's time we invite that recruiter over for supper.
We've got the Army and Air Force covered.
Let's see what a Marine brings to the table.

We're always up for entertainment.


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And today (Saturday, the 21st):

I wrote and posted that earlier and took it down only hours after it went public. I guess I was second-guessing what I was putting out there and not wanting any one comment to influence the boy one way or the other (or influence my thoughts, to be more exact). It always amazes me how the things I think will get the most attention don't get much at all and the things I think will bore the reader to death generate the most feedback. That particular post certainly kicked off a lot of interest almost immediately. Anyway, as is the usual with me, I've had time to process my thoughts and am ready to move on with life... at least for now.


Whatever will be will be.

My Boy Is Gone

Years ago there was a mother who knelt before her six-year old son and whispered these words,

If you'll just put on that gown, I'll buy you that dinosaur you've been wanting.

The son replied with a silent shake of his head.

If you'll just put on that gown, I'll buy you that Power Ranger you've been wanting.

Again, a silent and solemn shake of the head.

If you'll just put on that stupid gown (said through gritted teeth), I'll buy you ANYTHING you want.

Time stood still.
The mother waited.
The boy pondered.

And then replied with a silent shake of his head.

The mother gave up. The son had won. Within minutes the procession song played and the boy marched. The only boy in a small group of girls. The only boy without a white cap and gown.

And the mother could care less.

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Yep. That was me. Not one of my finer parenting moments, I can promise you that, but a moment to be remembered nonetheless. I wanted so badly to see the perfect picture that I almost missed a perfect moment.

I've never forgotten that.

The slap to my parenting face came when his name was called and he walked across the stage to accept his kindergarten diploma. I can remember holding my breath to see if he would actually make that walk or not. When he did take those first steps and managed to shake the hands of the three adults onstage, the fact that he was not decked out in his graduation attire became utterly meaningless. A major accomplishment had just taken place. He had not been manipulated into something he was not comfortable with, and yet he had stepped up to the plate and made an uncomfortable walk across a stage in front of a crowd of people. It really was a big deal. Later, after the congratulations and pictures and cake, when it was just him and me, he put on that cap and gown and let me take a picture. Even to this day that is one of the most precious photos I have in my possession and I wouldn't share it for the world.

A private moment. An understood compromise. A lesson learned.

Why am I thinking of a Sunday afternoon that took place a little over twelve years ago? Because yesterday another moment grabbed me and for a brief moment, locked me in a time warp where time stood still and reversed itself all in the same instant. I watched that same boy, with a senior year schedule and textbooks in hand, walk down a hall in search of his locker. His back was to me, his shoulders straight, his confidence high. I blinked and caught a glimpse of my little six-year old and my eyes began to water.

My boy is gone and a man has taken his place.

Time goes by too darn fast.



And not to be forgotten, the youngest successfully earned her driver's permit yesterday afternoon. It's no wonder I was the middle-aged woman standing in a high school hallway shaking my head and wiping away a tear. I'm just like my mother. =)

It's Cryin' Time Again (My Laptop Is Broken)

Things are back to normal around here and I gotta tell you, normal isn't so great. The parents left yesterday morning, the oldest went to work, the middle slept till noon, the youngest broke out her sewing machine, the husband went back to the job search, and I went back to laundry. Well, I take that back (about the normal not being great part)... we're all here and well. I'd say normal is pretty good.

We had the BEST time last week. I think I had a headache from Wednesday through Sunday, but it was well worth it. My mom attributed it to the stress of everything and I suppose she might have been right. It certainly was a whirlwind. I guess that's the end of my SENIOR YEAR posts, at least for another year. I expect the next few years to fly by now as the other two make their way forward. My mom remarked that I now only have kids in high school. Sheesh. Now that's hard to believe.

The oldest was surprised by what all he received as graduation gifts. When he thanked his great-grandma, he said, "I think I should graduate every year." Ha! I've got a stack of thank you cards for him to write and informed him last night that there would be no weekend plans until they were finished. He gladly replied, "Not a problem." I was surprised by a few graduation gifts sent my way as well. It's always good to feel loved.

And so life goes on. The middle goes camping with his youth group next week and the youngest was invited to spend a week at the beach with one of her BFFs. I've got a couple of teaching applications in place that I'm hoping to hear something on and just found out yesterday that I'll begin training as a volunteer docent (fancy word for tour guide) at our local history museum. At this point, anything would be a good start. Even the husband has expanded his job search to a two-hour radius from where we live. I don't blame him one bit. We'll cross that bridge if we come to it.

The point of too much personal information?

If you're a praying person, PRAY.
If you're a positive thinking person, THINK POSITIVELY.

And if you know how to fix an almost three-year old Gateway laptop in which the power button (built in to the hinged part) has went kaput, feel free to let me know.

Oh, and if your mom lives close by, go give her a hug.

 I miss mine already. =)

Why Moms Cry

Well, I held it together just fine yesterday until sometime approaching the midnight hour. The husband and I were talking about the day, he got up to do something, and when he came back he looked at me with an expression of sincere concern.

"Are you all right? Are you sick? Did I say something wrong?"
"Nope," was all I could come up with, "just a little choked up, I guess."

I was thinking about those last thirteen years of school (gotta count kindergarten, you know!). The first time we took him to school to meet his teacher. The first time I saw that little head looking out the school bus window. The first time I gave him a detention.

Ha! Didn't expect that last one, did you? I was his fourth grade teacher at the time and that particular year is full of great memories and some rough ones. In fact, I taught all my kids for at least one year (the middle was lucky enough to have me for three... yikes!). It isn't easy being mama and teacher, but that's another story.

Back to the oldest, though, school -the academic part, anyway- has never been his thing. He's had some ups and downs and close calls, but you never knew a kid with a better attitude (and you could ask anyone who knows him to confirm that). He got a little nervous towards the end of this year and stated what has become my all-time favorite line(s):

"I am learning what regret is like. If I would have known how this would feel now [waiting on a particular final grade], I would have tried a lot harder in the beginning."

He did it, though. He buckled down and pulled through and walked a stage yesterday. He told me he came across one teacher who had helped him a lot this year and said, "Mr. B seemed really glad to see me graduate." The oldest shook the man's hand and thanked him because that's the kind of kid he is...

But he's not a kid anymore, is he?

He's a high school graduate who bought himself an ipad with his graduation money and shortly thereafter had his first minor fender-bender on the way home. That was a first for me, too. When the phone rang and the first word I heard was a distressed sounding "Mom?" ... well, it's no wonder yesterday was a toil-on-the-emotions kinda day.

And why I was little choked up by the time my head hit the pillow.

Very, VERY proud of you, son.

Are We Done Yet?

I had a feeling this senior year stuff was gonna wear me out. We still have thirty-six hours until the boy actually walks across a stage to accept that coveted diploma and I feel like we've already been through it. I keep reminding myself to enjoy every minute of this... this is HIS time to shine.

But, man oh man, this mama is tired.

Tonight he participated in a completer ceremony at our county tech school. He successfully completed three years in a skills program that has already paved the way for a full-time job he starts on Monday. He was awarded Student of the Year for a second time and we couldn't have been more proud.

But, boy oh boy, do those bleachers wear a person out.

My parents have been here this week as planned and the days seem to be flying by. The last few days my mom and I have been doing some shopping and in each place we go, I stop myself and think, "My mom is here." It sounds silly, I suppose, but there is something comforting about looking over racks of clothes or peering through shelves of trinkets and seeing your mom there. I wish they would never leave.

Tomorrow we will shop some more. Friday we will watch the boy graduate. And Saturday I'm counting on her to help me feed a house full of hungry people while my dad will no doubt entertain an audience that includes impressionable teenagers. I am really looking forward to it all. Mostly, though, I am looking forward to the long nap that is sure to follow.

I think we're all gonna need it.

Please Don't Throw Your Dirty Underwear At Your Sibling

This thought is on my mind this morning because, well... it was being tossed through the living room last night. Really? Really. How old are my kids? As I crawled back into bed after shutting the bedroom door on life as I know it, the husband looked at me with one eye (while the other was kept closely trained on the laptop) and said, "Trouble in paradise?"

I know, I know. These days will pass and I'm sure I'll miss them terribly.

Maybe.

I think everyone around here is starting to crack under the end-of-the-school-year pressure. The oldest has all of his senior stuff, of course, and he was pacing the floor last night waiting for an exam score to be posted online. If all goes well, as he puts it, today will be his last official day of high school. Next week is Senior Week, the whole week off from work, and the BIG graduation day.

The middle is just trying to survive the next week, I think. His mind is already on next year. The youngest is swamped in end-of-the-year projects that make no sense to me. She's had three or four going on at the same time to go along with all the studying she's been doing. There's an award ceremony tonight that I think in her mind is just one more thing she has to do. Like I said, end-of-the-year pressure.

But then, there IS next week. I absolutely cannot wait and neither can they. The grandparents are coming out and all will be right with the world. I am positively certain there will be no dirty underwear issues while they are here.

I hope.

I'm A Mess And I Know It

I spent a few days last week fighting with a printer and sticking little graduation caps on self-made announcements for the oldest. The first mailing went out today; the last few stragglers will go out tomorrow. I suppose it's just now starting to sink in with me. Combine that with a Mother's Day weekend and an emotional time of the month and you've got a recipe for one weepy woman.

Tomorrow the middle turns sixteen.
Saturday the youngest goes to her first dance.

Good grief.

I kinda feel sorry for my husband.

Scrapbooking Comes Before Dinner

I fully intended on having the table cleared off by tonight. I've got a roast in the slow cooker and a big meal planned. Seeing as how I had to clear a spot for this laptop, though, and it's just after two in the afternoon, I foresee dinner in front of the television tonight. Fortunately, I don't think anyone will complain.

I'm making a scrapbook for the oldest right under his nose. He may or may not have noticed... we've all been idly looking at pictures as we pass through the kitchen. I'd like to have it done for him by the time he graduates. He may not care too much now, but I'm believing his kids will care thirty years from now. I like to plan ahead.

In the meantime, I marvel at how our family has grown. I see hand-me-downs through the years of pictures and the same furniture that sits in our living room now is in those same photos of me rocking newborns. Living on one income for most of our life has limited what we have and what we do, but my-oh-my, I wouldn't change a thing.

When You're Eighteen

I was standing in the middle of the card and invitation aisle at Hobby Lobby today when the thought occurred to me:  Is the oldest really fixing to graduate? Am I really the mom looking at stickers with caps and tassels and rolled-up diplomas? Is he really gonna pull this one off?

And that last comment is in no way a negative remark towards him, it just seems a little unreal. How can I be the mother of a practically grown man? He's eighteen, has a job, is a college applicant, and a soon-to-be registered voter. He even informed me one day not long ago that he could now legally buy cigarettes (not that he would ever do that, he assured me). Now if he bought a lottery ticket and won... hey, I wouldn't stand in his way. Thank goodness, though, he is very frugal with his money.

These kids. The husband and I were talking about them last night. How exhausting they are. How much fun they are. How lucky we are. Every day I watch the three of them leave for school, usually laughing or arguing depending on the day, and think to myself, "Bring them all back home, Lord." About five minutes after they left this morning, a cop or two went roaring by the house with sirens blaring. For a brief moment, my heart slowed down and my stomach grew weak. I am all too aware of how quickly things can change.

The middle can't seem to make it through a longboarding weekend without a new, bloody gash on his elbows or knees (add ankles and dirt bikes to that mix). The youngest can't seem to get enough of perfume and eye shadows and funky nail polish colors. And that oldest...

I do believe he's about ready to spread his wings and fly.

His dad was his age when he joined the Army.
I was his age when I thought I had life all figured out.

And I haven't figured it out yet. Have you?

Where Does The Time Go?



Kindergarten



12th Grade

 

Did He Really Just Say Hot-Cute?

I have determined that it's no use pretending. You can take the girl out of the small town, but you can never take the small town out of the girl. Consider the events of this afternoon.

The oldest and I headed downtown for his senior portraits. First of all, I hate downtown, at least on that side of the river. I get turned around easily (even with a GPS) and let's be honest, bums standing on every corner make me nervous. I know they're hungry and willing to work and want God to bless me and every one of them is a veteran, but they still make me nervous. That will most likely never change.

Secondly, I hate red lights and railroad crossings and road construction that makes me have to turn around. I just want to get in my car, go where I need to go, and get back home without horns honking. Now most of the time I manage to stay calm, at least outwardly, but it just goes without saying that I prefer to be home. I'm not a phobic or anything like that, I just like home. Peace. Quiet. Cats.

Yeah. I'm not crazy or anything.

So I take the boy because that's what a good mom-of-a-senior does, and we are ushered upstairs where he is shown the fitting room and I have a seat. The guy makes some small talk. Nick, introduce me to your sister. Whatever. Chuckle, chuckle. He asks where I went to high school which brings up a place far away from here. That immediately sparked his interest. I was asked a few pointed questions and it is quickly determined that I am something of a redneck girl.

It's okay. I can take it. I do hear myself talk, afterall.

He invites me in to watch the photography session to which I politely decline. I don't think my seventeen-year old boy needs his mom sitting in the corner while he poses this way and that. Besides, the acoustics in that place were great and I could hear every word that was said anyway... mental note for when it becomes our girl's turn. I pulled out my crochet bag (good Lord, have I really become that woman?) and passed the next twenty minutes or so in relative peace.

Of course, my mind was racing. Is that really my kid in there taking his final pictures of his high school career? I thought back to my own... I kinda remember it. Does it all really matter? Where will these pictures end up anyway? In the back of a picture frame behind other pictures? At the bottom of a cedar chest? Where are my senior pictures? At some point in the utterly pointless mental monologue, I heard the photographer asking my boy if he had a girlfriend.

Yes.
What's her name?
He tells him.
How long have you been dating?
He tells him.
Is she cute?
Yes.
Like hot-cute?

Now at this juncture in the conversation, I really do chuckle to myself. I know the guy is just being friendly and keeping the atmosphere casual and all that, but I am thinking, You obviously don't know who you're talking to. I know I'm the mother and some of you might be thinking I'm just being naive, but if I know anything about my oldest, it's that he would never refer to his girlfriend- especially to a stranger, as being hot-cute.

And that, my virtual friends, is called a father teaching his sons about respect.

The session quickly ended after a few more shots with his guitar and the mom-mandatory picture of him in his suit. I was given a brochure that featured the packages and prices arranged on the love scale (another chuckle, chuckle)... $150, we love him a little ~ $949, we love him a lot (another whatever). We made our next appointment to check out the proofs, gathered up our stuff (crochet bag included), and made our way through the stoplights, over the train tracks, and past the bums.

Home at last.
Sitting outside.
And for the record, not a cat in sight.

*And in case you're wondering, he never did answer the hot-cute question. The guy took the hint and moved on. While driving back home, we talked about that particular phrase.

I just don't get it, my oldest said.
I don't think of her that way. There's more to a girl than that.

Good grief, we are blessed.

So Technically Nobody Told Us Our Kid Was Great

Of course, that could be because we didn't hang around to actually meet any of the teachers (and FYI, this is part two to an earlier post). After sitting in an auditorium for an hour enduring the onslaught of college information, we were all a little more than fried. Don't get me wrong, it was great information... just too much at one time. Our oldest has his sights set on a tech school anyway, so that will all be pretty straight forward and not much of an application process. I thought it was good, though, for the middle and the youngest to sit through the whole college presentation thing.

That is until the middle informed me he slept through most of it.
Oh well. We really do try.

Anyway, after learning that we have to have a senior pic done at a particular studio if we want it in the yearbook and that the deadline is eight days away (how did I miss that memo?) I felt myself slipping into a minor panic mode. I got the graduation date marked down (only ten tickets per grad) and I think I caught the info on ordering the cap and gown (no extras for us). When the words of the speaker began to form the old blah, blah, blah sound in my ears, I knew we were done. We slipped out with the other slackers, paid our five dollar guilt-fee to the PTA, and debated if we really needed to do the whole open house thing. Keeping in mind that this is a big school and nothing really important happens in these two-minute meet-n-greet sessions, we opted to bolt for the car.

And the husband spent his birthday money on Chili's.
It was the best open house ever.

Just Tell Me How Great My Kid Is And We Can All Go Home

I am wondering where in the world August went. It seems as if we were just wrapping up summer and making school supply lists (of course, this is in the part of the country where school comes a little too early, in my opinion). I'm not complaining. I'm glad to see August go. September kicks off the four months of the year that are my favorite. Granted, we'll have to lose these ninety-eight temps before I can truly appreciate the fall months. Around here summer seems to last through October. Even so, the early mornings are cool and the late evenings are nice. Hope is just around the corner.

Tonight we have a senior meeting for parents to be followed by an open house and rounds two and three in Meet The Teacher. I never look forward to these nights. Nobody talks about what they really want to talk about and the maneuvering through the crowded halls leaves me feeling a little more than anxious. In fact, this takes me back to this same time last year. Oh well. It is the role we must play as parents. We'll load up the car, go through the motions, shake a few hands, share a bottle of germex, and have dinner out afterwards. I suppose I can make small talk for the promise of a meal I don't have to cook.

I can find joy in any Taco Bell.

Don't Get In The Way Of My Latte

Well, we might as well assign a label to this one and keep a common theme rolling along. I'll try not to get to sappy and if you're anything like me and get tired (at times) at the constant updates in any one person's life... you might grow weary and think who cares?!? Also, when you consider the fact that I have two more kids behind him, this could get old pretty fast. At any rate, this blog is more or less for nostalgic purposes aimed at the family. If nothing else, my mother will absolutely love it.

We stood in four separate lines today to register the oldest for his senior year of high school. He walked in still riding high on the freedom of summer vacation. An hour later, he walked out carrying a stack of books, a locker combination, and a parking pass. I had my own packet of mandatory parent meetings, graduation stuff, and paid receipts. In two of the lines we watched as kids cut in front of us with the old tried and true method of I will stand here and laugh and talk to my friends like I don't know what's going on so I don't have to wait in the back of the line.

Yeah.
Take a number, kid.

As we made our way back to the car for our traditional let's get a Starbucks to mark the occasion, the oldest remarked to me that he was surprised I didn't say anything to the line-cutters. He knows me so well. All I could think was that I didn't want to rush any of it. I told him if I have learned anything in life, it's that we always don't have to be in so much of a hurry. If waiting in four separate lines while kids cut in front of us meant that I had one solid hour of standing and talking with my oldest, so be it. I don't mind the wait.

Of course, less than ten minutes later I was laying into my horn over some fool that tried to cut me off in the center turn lane. There's a mass difference between standing in line at the local high school and maneuvering through traffic during mid-afternoon. That made the oldest laugh. He was probably thinking, now that's the mom I know. He knows nothing stands in the way between me and a hazelnut latte, even if the moment is suppose to be all about him.

It's such a strange thing watching these kids grow.

I hope I never grow tired of it.

Darn That Patriotism!

While I sat this morning drinking coffee and crocheting (how old am I?) my oldest sat with me drinking a Powerade and talking about his future. It seems that the two most important men in his life have been talking to him about the Air Force. I don't know whether to smile or cry.

Smile because, after all, we are talking the Air Force here. That would be taking after me and not his Army dad (who, ironically, is one of the two men saying Go Air Force!). We have our own bit of friendly rivalry around this house.

Cry because, after all, we are talking about my firstborn here. The whole thing makes me think of my mom and dad who went through this with their own firstborn (my brother) and then again with their youngest (that would be me).

As I was washing dishes after he headed back outside, I was thinking That's what you get for instilling in these kids a love of country and hope for a future. So like I said, I'm not sure whether to smile or cry. Good thing he's still got a year of school left.

And good thing he's still in the thinking mode.
We all know how it is to have so many possibilities ahead.

The Senior Year has begun.