senior moments

Perhaps I should begin with the fact that I cry at dog food commercials. I always have. I'm just that sentimental. Remember that ad campaign that said, "This changes everything"? I have no idea what was being advertised, exactly, but I do know that every single time I saw a commercial, or even a print ad, I ended up snivelling in a corner somewhere. It's actually one of my finest traits, I think. However, when the public eye is mixed in, I'm never sure how my family will react. They know me so well that Henry, our 15-year-old, considers this reaction typical when we rent movies: (in his words) "You will watch snorfling on the couch, without saying a word, and then when it's over you'll sniff and say, 'That was a really good movie.'" This revelation by him has led to the unfortuneate result of me laughing inside while snorfling--or in the case of The Green Mile, nearly sobbing--which sets off some really strange turmoil in my emotional center!

The coming months will be filled to overflowing with public emotion. Jonathan is a senior. And a football player. And an all-around good kid. The school year is three days old, and I've already found myself wondering how many tears will be acceptable to him. The conclusion I've come to is that he will just have to deal with them, and so will I. So many reasons for "Senior Moments" to hit me right in that emotional core; the spot where all my memories come together with my life force. Pride, joy, anticipation, and the realization that my boy is well on his way to being the man I've always hoped he'd be, and his friends and classmates, too. They have always been a tight group, and seeing just how they support and play off of each other in this special time when they are top dogs amazes and impresses me so much my eyes leak.

Yesterday, there was a Pep Rally at school. For the first and only time, all four boys are in the same building for school. The fact that all Jonathan's brothers would be there made me cry. The fact that I taught dance to about a third of the cheerleaders at some point hit me in the gut. The captains of the Soccer and Football teams taking a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors "very seriously" made me melt. Seeing the tough guy Seniors from those same teams dancing in crazy costumes for a dance-off not only made me laugh until I cried, it made me so proud of how far they have come since meeting each other in Kindergarten. But the moment that nearly pushed me over the edge, the moment that took all the strength I had, was one planned by the Pep Club and Cheerleaders all on their own.

Senior football players were brought to the center of the gym by the cheerleaders, blindfolded, and told that they would get a kiss on the cheek from one of the cheerleaders. When the blindfolds were removed, they would have to guess which cheerleader had kissed them. Little did they know that their moms would be the ones passing out kisses. "Would that embarrass you too much, to kiss him in public?" I was asked when informed of the plan; "Would it bother him?" We moms sat in anticipation, all of us knowing this was a true Senior Moment; a real chance to make a lifetime memory. For me, that kiss on the cheek brought back every first day of school kiss since pre-school, and also a foreshadowing of that hug and kiss that will find us leaving him at a dormroom somewhere with strangers, feeling even more helpless than when we left him at Kindergarten. (That's us, not him, by the way; he's ready to fly, and will undoubtedly be nervous, but certainly not as scared as we will be!) What touched my heart the most, though, was how well the girls who planned this know the moms they selected. The moment was for the moms, of that I have no doubt.

My emotions about this one moment, and the many before and to come, are not related in any way to sadness. I am not upset that "this will be the last [fill in the blank]." Nor am I thrilled at that same filled in blank. I am, however, simply filled to the brim with joy and happiness that I have had this boy of mine in my life for the past 17 years. For almost half my life, I have cared for, helped, yelled at, apologized to, carted around, ridden with, cheered for, played with, questioned, answered, fed, cooked with, awakened, rocked to sleep, laughed with, cried with, stood up for, stood back from, encouraged, discouraged, taught, and learned from this person who started out so helpless and has become so amazingly independent and strong. I cry at these Senior Moments because they are one-of-a-kind moments, blindingly beautiful, and I know that I cannot possibly take in enough information about them to keep everything about them handy. Nor should I. I'm looking forward to sharing Senior Moments with each of our boys, but for now, they belong to Jonathan. And Guy. And the other senior parents that have, truly, become family in a very unique way.