Love This Memory of You

Andrew's always been my cuddle bear. When the boys were born so close together, it was an obvious, expected, and necessitated choice for Steve and I to tag team with them. Because a baby needs his mom, so much of Andrew's first year was spent in my lap, while Steve tended to toddler Philip. Whew. Some of those days were long and rough. I will always be incredibly thankful, though, that we had our babies back to back. It has gifted each of us, all four of us, in so many ways, and it created the fabric of our family.

But, I guess it's normal for a mom to be attached a little more in her heart to her baby. Even if the youngest child were identical to the oldest child, the mom is going to feel the emotion more as she goes through the last of everything. As fun and adventurous as the first of everything is, a woman is wired to be poignant and reminiscent, in my mind, anyway, as she finishes up things. I think, for those reasons, in my heart I have a unique bond with both boys. Philip was my introduction to everything and Andrew was my finale.

And, oh, how I loved elementary school with my boys. I was blessed to be able to be at home with the boys from Philip's birth up until Andrew began 6th grade. Yep. I was at every Christmas and Valentine party that occurred, and went on as many field trips as they would allow. So, Andrew's 5th grade year was my mom swan song - my last chance to do all of the fun things. Having a child simultaneously in 5th and a child in 6th, I knew there was no need for mom at the junior high school campus. And so, determinedly, I dug into 5th grade even more zealously than I imagined I could.

I was incredibly honored to be asked to be the 5th Grade Coordinator at the boys' elementary school, and I adored working with the three teachers Andrew had that last year. To this day, I keep up with his homeroom 5th grade teacher via Facebook and am totally reveling in watching her now raise three little punkin' heads. Meghan was a jewel and she just made the year so glorious for all of the kids. The fact that I had a VIP backstage pass was a bonus.

When we moved from the valley to Plano ISD in 2005, we all got an education. PISD definitely had a certain way that things worked. They had an extensive and interesting 5th grade curriculum. It makes for an amazing year for the kids, full of integrated learning units. We worked through Immigration Day and Colonial Week and Biography Night...and had fun all along the way. And one of the neatest things they do is to have a graduation celebration for each 5th grade class...and a reunion at the elementary school for the 12th grade graduating seniors. 

Because I was the 5th Grade Coordinator, I was up at the school many days and long hours. It was so wonderful to be such an integrated part of Andrew's final year of elementary school, my final year of elementary school. As I type this, I am awaiting Andrew's senior photo shoot pictures to appear in Drop Box. And so, as I looked at photos of my many layouts, and as I prepare to soon watch this baby boy of mine cross the stage, it seems natural to look back at this 2007 milestone and ponder graduation celebrations.

As I consider the 6'2" young man who has a black cap and gown hanging in the guest closet, I am drawn to the memory of this little boy. Andrew was always tender hearted to his classmates. He was the child whose best friend for the first four years of school was the sweet little boy who was so shy he did not speak. Andrew has always been accepting of all and even seeks out those that he feels need a little extra some something. Andrew is very loyal. His friend, pictured with him on the far right, ended up defeating him in the student council race, and Andrew shook it off and kept right on with the friendship.

This little boy heart was as sweet as he was shy. He would sit quietly, listening to it all, taking it all in, processing it...and add a comment when it was least expected, in the moment or days afterward. That little thinking boy scored a 29 on the ACT without cracking a book and can solve a Rubik's Cube in seconds. And he is still mildly shy...but he can and often does bring a room to laughter with a quick-witted retort to any kind of comment.

I love his story. All of it. It has been my pleasure to have a front row seat to every chapter. From his little head nestling against my neck, to his chubby hands bringing me flowers, to his tween body getting ice cream with me, to his tall lumbering frame sharing his comic book heroes with me. I have counted all of it joy. It has been my pleasure. It has been a celebration in my heart to have him in my life. 

In 5 weeks we will have our reunion at Hunt. I didn't go with Philip and he said they all asked about me. Who knew moms could go? And then in 6 weeks, we will have one more graduation ceremony with my Andrew. And I will spend the next 6 weeks smiling at this boy, remembering his story, cherishing all of the chapters, and loving how God has crafted him into the young man that he is. 

We will embrace this coming senior high graduation celebration and we will remember fondly this 5th grade graduation celebration, and we will work even harder to remember all the way back to his kindergarten graduation. And as we dream, we look forward to his someday college graduation. I do love this 5th grade memory of him. And I love all my memories of him.

Graduation Celebration ~ Andrew's 5th Grade Graduation ~ May 2007 

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation http://scrapbookgeneration.com/index.php?route=product/category&path=213

Paper: October Afternoon

Fonts: Comic Sans, Pacifico

The Joy of the Pomp & Circumstance

My cousin, Margie, is forever telling me I think too much. I am forever telling her that I can't help it. I am forever telling God that He must have wanted me to think this much, because He's the one who wired me. And all the while, I keep thinking.

I could long see coming this day and all that it held. Not just the diploma, the pomp and circumstance, or even the advent of college. What I could see coming was the end of life together as a family of four. I have always thought that we really balanced each other out and the four of us together make up my family, the place my heart comes home to every night, the place that defines me, that softens me, that challenges me, that encourages me. You know, home.

And so, in anticipation of the swirl of senior year, we bought a 12 month academic calendar. I straddled that monster out on the kitchen table and dropped in every high school, church and college preview event known to us, stretching from July to June. And yes, being the thinker that I am, I color coded it. Why use one Sharpie when you can use seven? 

And with each setting of the sun, we marked off one of the squares that represented in my mind our little house of four. And I cried. I cried almost daily. Some days, I cried more than once in a day. I can't explain it. I won't apologize for it. I can only tell you with all candor that I cried. As I think about it - and you must know I think about it - I wonder if my attachment to my boys being at home runs so very deep because I was a stay at home mom for nearly fourteen years? Part of my brain likes to think so. Surely if there is a reason for it, it instantly becomes more rational, yes?

People at work would ask about my senior - his college search, his interests, his board testing, his graduation date - and any mention of any of it would find me in a quick puddle of tears. Tears that learned to slide so easily down my cheeks, as if in ruts worn well by the frequency of their appearance. They began to expect me to be a mess and I began to stay in my office a little more. I had enough going on that I didn't need to be the loony bin candidate or that month's pity party honoree.

I would not be lying at all if I told you I cried from July up to May. The senior year trudged on. The boy made his college choice. And began to get excited. And began to prepare for the big transition and the change and the move and the new life. I tried to be supportive. I learned to text things I wanted to say, but that my voice could not say without cracking or my face support my mouth by providing dry eyes. My boy learned to filter what he told me. And when he told me.

 As the graduation day approached, I set aside my emotions and settled on the task at hand - the base logistics of getting 8 guests + 1 graduate on time from my house to the ceremony venue. Downtown. Dallas. 20 miles away with traffic variables and zero venue knowledge and the already insufferable June Texas heat.

The situation with the oldest child is that everything you do is a first. You have no real clue. The parenting books run out of content long before you run out of questions. You learn to probe gently and if you are lucky, you have a network of friends that are older than you on the age curve. Without my network of friends near and far, I know I could not make it as a mom.

I reached out to some friends from church whose son graduated from the same high school with some questions. So, I went into the event with an idea of where to go and where to park. I took off in the lead car, determined to get my graduate "to the church on time". We suffered through the uncertainties and did indeed get there, get parked and get inside on time. 

As I reached out to him, donned in his cap and gown, helping him to get it on and get it all straight, I fought one last wave of emotion. A surge of acknowledgement of life together swelled over me and culminated in a sense of pride in this man boy, who towers over me by 6 inches, as I helped him place his honor cords and quickly snapped one quick picture without daring to ask permission.

After that, he took off to join the throng and I settled in to helping the following car maneuver the streets, parking, and concrete maze of downtown. It was nice to have the distraction honestly. Finally, all 8 of us were together and we set in to get seats and wait for the beginning of the ceremony. Philip's graduating class size was record-setting, a fact acknowledged by the media and the presenters of the day. I think that was my lucky break.

In the sheer determination of the district's goal to graduate 1,600 students in under 2 hours, the ceremony itself was a media whirlwind of faces, the pace itself defying you to look away or blink or ponder the magnitude of the passing out of the sheepskin. You literally would miss your child's face on the big screen if you weren't looking in the nano second that they passed in front of the camera. The consolation in the speed of it all was that one was so focused on keeping up with it that there was no time for emotions at all, let alone tears.

I embraced the numbing speed of it all. It allowed me to detach from the college launch. It allowed me to try to look for classmates of his that I had known over the years. It allowed me to be excited because he was excited. When it was all said and done, the day itself was a good day. And I guess any day that you are celebrating the graduation of a high school student there is reason enough to take in the joy of the pomp and circumstance. Way to go, Class of 2013! Ya' done good. Way to go, mom! You made it, too.


Class of 2013 ~ Philip's Graduation ~ June 2013

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation http://scrapbookgeneration.blogspot.com

Paper: October Afternoon
Font: Blackjack

Remains of the Day

I think that we started with over 200 photos. And we were charged with the task of narrowing it down to 25. That was my budgeted amount – 25. It’s hard to pick the best of the best of the best when they are all absolutely wonderful.

We sat on an ottoman in a den and stared at a 60-inch screen, eyes glued to it. We took in the delight of all the variations. We had our breath taken away by a few. We chuckled over the silly in-between shot expressions that even the photographer had loved enough to snap candidly. And I, of course, teared up over some of the absolute best ones. Over the whole process. Over having to narrow down what we took away from the day. It seemed not enough.

Some shots were absolutely “YES – we must have that!” As we got closer to 25, the debate loomed longer. Hubby and I wanted the ones “we wanted” – the ones that spoke to us. And he was adamant about the 25. Narrowing it down – 200 to 25 – was like torture. And not only to us. I think in final desperation to have us out of her house, our photographer caved and tossed in 7 extra. 32 shots. 13 years in the making. 5 outfits. 3 venues. 8 backdrops. I’m praying it's enough. That the remains of the day are enough for this mama’s heart.

When I sat down to scrap the photos, I wanted to scrap them all. And I hope to. But, I needed to get some of them down and so I chose predominantly the ones used on the graduation invitation, and threw in a couple more that I liked. I thought about the title I would use. “Oh the Places You Will Go” is common, or “Adventure is Out There”, or “Way to Go, Grad”….and it seemed as though I wanted to say more to him than that. I happened upon the WRMK sentiment and thought it expressed perfectly this mama’s sentiment for her boy out there now in the big ‘ole world. And I thought, too, the little Hello World sticker perfectly embodied my boy’s heart longing. He was ready to go long before I was ready to let him go.

I am thankful for my remains of the day. And every once in a while if I want to just punish my heart a little, I will troll through the 32 images and just remember. Togetherness. Joy. Laughter. Big boy hugs. Little boy tears. Scraped knees. Bruised hearts. Life. Our life together. My remains of the day.

Be Forever True to Your Heart ~ Senior Photo Shoot ~ April 2013

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation http://scrapbookgeneration.blogspot.com

Paper: Echo Park, Simple Stories, We R Memory Keepers
Font: Collegiate Inside
Photo Credit: Kim West Photography