Tag Archives: high school graduates

A Momoir, Chapter 8: High School Graduation – My Big Fat So What

As my youngest’s high school graduation loomed recently I became increasingly thrown by the emotional parent posts ramping up on my Facebook feed. While I continued to post equally enthusiastic OMG!s over every Game of Thrones episode, I started to realize I wasn’t nearly as wrapped up in the upcoming milestone as the other moms.

At my attendance at each of the requisite senior assemblies I watched as these other moms passed around tissues – while I checked my watch, gauging my arrival to work.

I scrolled my feed daily, seeing one heartfelt sentiment after another.

Where did the time go???? (multiple punctuation marks)

I just can’t believe it! (multiple sad emojis)

So proud! (picture, picture, picture, pic…)

And there I sat, silently wondering Are we all talking about high school? Um, isn’t this supposed to happen?

I was neither sad nor melancholy and quickly suspected there might be something wrong with me. Sure, sure, sure I’d been at this rodeo three times already. But had I become world-weary? Jaded? Cynical? I mean, for a school *career, my kid had a pretty great run. He – like many of his friends – did well academically, had impressive moments on the field and on occasion, even garnered a few local headlines that at times made his head swell. Of course I was proud of him.

But (again) this was high school. My overall sentiment percolated under the surface: okay, great, kudos, nice job, way to go.

Now, move on.

I’m sorry (not sorry) it’s just never been something I’ve ever thought was a big deal. In fact it’s been unconditionally expected for all of my kids. Getting through high school was their only job and while I enjoyed every moment in an auditorium or bleacher and duly scrapbooked every news clipping, I’m ready to put it on a shelf and start a new one.

With a whole life ahead of them, I’ve always been more excited to see what my kids will all do when left to their own passions and inclinations.

Now, before the knives come out, really, I have not lived this last year of high school without all emotion. Far from it (Facebook can confirm). I have enjoyed and embraced his every memorable moment and even have a favorite.

Unbeknownst to him, there is one particular Mom Moment I will hold onto for a very, very long time (you know, until the moment gets taken over by this kid running NASA or curing cancer or I don’t know, taking out the trash without being asked).

My paramount takeaway from my final kid’s high school experience was actually my own experience during his last hurrah, at his last assembly. As the graduating class walked in, swishing by in their robes, past the parents, and onto the stage, I (looked up from my watch, naturally and) caught a glimpse of some other parents as he walked by them.

We live in a small Norm-from-Cheers town, where everybody knows your name and most, if not all, parents know each other by a history of six degrees of K-12 separation (or siblings). Many of these parents – better than me, who’d arrived early and had scored the enviable, photography-worthy aisle seats (unlike myself, sitting in the back, closer to my car) watched as my kid walked by. As he did, and since I had the panoramic of the auditorium from my vantage point in the back (totally planned) I caught sight of some parents and saw their smiles broaden as he passed. I scanned some more faces and saw it repeated, and witnessed the creases in their crow’s feet deepen, too. Some others applauded more heartily and fist bumped him as he neared their aisle seat. My insides swelled. There was such tremendous and genuine affection and fondness in their expressions I found myself only watching the crowd as he passed. Those that know him were beaming and it was a vision I will never, ever forget (memory be damned – it’s in a blog now — #internetforever).

I don’t think anything could ever make me any prouder as a parent.

(In fact as soon as those wet towels are picked up I am soooo posting about it.)

Without question, I highly recommend reading the room whenever your kid walks in. It just may give you all the validation you’ll ever need in life.

And – at least for me – that milestone will most definitely outshine a high school graduation every time.

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Tina Drakakis blogs at Eyerollingmom and has been featured in Huff Post. She appeared in the Boston production of “Listen to Your Mother: Giving Motherhood a Microphone” presenting her popular essay The Thinking Girl’s Thong and her work has been featured in NPR’s “This I Believe” radio series. That said, she still places “Most Popular 1984” on top of her list of achievements (next would be as the $100,000 winner on that home improvement reality TV show of 2003 but her kids won’t let her talk about that anymore). A witty mother of four, she takes on cyberspace as @Eyerollingmom on Twitter and Eyerollingmom on Facebook & @Eyerollingmom on Instagram. Her collection of essays, A Momoir, can be found here (agent interest ALWAYS WELCOME!)

Kids, I Love You. Now Cut the Crap.

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A friend shot me a note the other day which read simply, “Can you please write a blog about boys pissing on the toilet seat? To which I immediately replied:

“No, but I can write one about boys pissing into cups and Gatorade bottles and leaving them in their bedrooms … and then hurling them out the window when their mom loses her shit over finding them.”

(My friends know: this is 100% truth and the reason my husband will not drink out of plastic cups anymore.)

Honestly. So many stories still untold. It’s like the Naked City – only there’s usually actual nakedness (because boys step over all the wet towels already on the floors).

There’s a reason why all these gems float around my head and never make it to the page. I’ve found myself in that interesting yet ironic state of Perpetually Pissed and Profoundly Proud Parenting: when my entire emotional state fluctuates between one extreme and the other.

Kids cause that.

I don’t know what to write about half the time because by the time I’m done revealing reasons of happiness or reflection I usually want to throat punch someone.

If you think about it, it’s a pretty remarkable paradox. And no matter the ages of my kids, and despite how many times I remind myself that much of what now happens in life is out of my hands, these kids still have complete control over which way that pendulum swings.

My 3^rd kid just graduated high school and of course, it was the momentous, magnificent whirlwind of ceremony it should have been. (Disclaimer: this coming from a mom who has repeatedly deemed graduating high school No Big Deal). But the Kid did alright. Acceptance into a damn good school, a couple of nice scholarships and a bona fide bang-up senior year chock full of awesome memories. My heart’s been full for seemingly months at a go and I will not lie, it’s been a fine, fine time for us.

Welp. My boast balloon burst as soon as I got the text message at work asking if I’d left him a template for the Thank You cards he was writing following his grad party. A template. Followed by his query, “How do I address an envelope?” Good God. Off to college he goes?

To quote a very agitated tween, I just can’t even.

Bringing up the adolescence rear in our household, my youngest, too, turned his sophomore year into an impressive array of academic and athletic accolades. Really, he’s the Mayor. So adored. So praised. But it is astounding that he hasn’t yet choked on the ridiculously short leash we have him on due to all the stupid choices he keeps making. He seems to keep forgetting he is our fourth child and we have seen this movie. And we know how it ends. Lather, rinse, repeat.

To quote another very agitated tween, SMH.

But wait — the Jeckyll and Hyde of emotions isn’t just limited to the confines of my home anymore either, for even chicks that have flown my coop (some states may refer to them as “adults”) are adept at keeping my angst ablaze.

Like … my oldest, off in his first apartment (yay!), carrying a full-time job AND full-time school course load (hooray!), excitedly bragging about booking flights for his first “grown-up vacation” (wow!) … which he planned … on the very weekend of his sister’s college graduation. Are you kidding me?

Or … my daughter (she of the above reference) … announcing upon said graduation (pride!) that to begin her first job (congrats!) she would be driving cross country (what?) … to Utah (ummmmmmm) … alone (whaaaaaat???) … and … not to worry .. because everything will be fine…

(End note: in the end, she did not. Only due to sheer logistics, not parental pleas. Naturally.)

Sigh. Remember when we thought baby colic and constipation were a thing?

A very wise friend once declared “Little kids, little problems.”

These aren’t problems, I know. Merely slices of life that keep that damn pendulum swinging.

Parents already know: life is pretty damn amazing (and hilarious and heartbreaking and unmatched) dodging that damn thing.

My wrinkles (and wine bloat and grey hair) notwithstanding, I know wouldn’t trade a day of it. I mean, come on, they are kinda funny.

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Tina Drakakis blogs at Eyerollingmom and has been featured in HuffPost. She appeared in the Boston production of “Listen to Your Mother: Giving Motherhood a Microphone.” Her work has been featured in NPR’s “This I Believe” radio series yet she places “Most Popular 1984” on top of her list of achievements. (Next would be the home improvement reality TV show of 2003 but her kids won’t let her talk about that anymore). A witty mother of four, she takes on cyberspace as @Eyerollingmom on Twitter and Eyerollingmom on Facebook & @Eyerollingmom on Instagram. Her collection of essays, A Momoir, can be found here

Keeping the Peace: 5 Things Your High School Graduate Needs to Hear

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Nothing screams middle age like having high school graduates for kids. And nothing screams may-not-make-it-to-old-age like the arguments that ensue with these kids once they’ve tossed a tasseled mortarboard into the air. If you have the pleasure of living with young adults under your roof, pour a glass and make sure there’s ink in your printer. Remember seeing your mom’s yellowed Dear Abby column taped to the fridge? You may want to start up that tradition.

If living harmoniously is your goal, then without question, these 5 things need to be said to your young adult:

You will contribute financially to this household.

You can call it rent, or room and board or even living fees. But the truth is, something’s got to get coughed up each week and it has little to do with the obvious fact that everything increases with every warm body that is planted in a home. Food, water, electric, cable, everything. That’s a no-brainer. The more important reason for pitching into the household is because you should, that’s why. If you’re not working hard enough to fork over money each week, then you’re not working hard enough. Period. Throw in a few home cooked meals and access to laundry and you’d be up a creek if you had to REALLY pay for all this stuff outside of this home. Be happy to hand over a minimal yet reasonable amount. You don’t see it now but this absurd and unfair demand is building character and an appreciation for what things cost, of which you truly have no idea.

This is my house, therefore it is MY bedroom. You get to sleep in it.

You are welcome to enjoy continued privacy in this space that is covered under my mortgage payment, so long as you respect this space. Foul smells coming out of it render your privacy null and void. The detection of wet towels, food items or ANY suspicion of conduct unbecoming also nullifies the terms of your privacy.

We are your family, not your room mates.

Picking up after yourself is a sign of respect for those who live among you. Not doing so is a blatant sign of immaturity which indicates you simply do not understand this. No one wants to see hairs in a sink, step on toenail clippings or find food, utensils, blood, body parts or schmegma in the bathroom. If people can figure out what you’ve eaten for breakfast based on the remains left on the kitchen counter, you are being rude. The maid is far too busy pruning the money tree out back. Put stuff away and get rid of your own mess. Common courtesy, that’s all.

Rules are in place for respect, not ridicule.

We get it. We were there once, too. You’re not the first kid to return from college only to shriek about all the humiliating injustices of your parents. But if you’ve been given a curfew, it’s likely because you’ve given us reason to give one. If you’ve been given limits on the car you’re driving, the same holds true. The easiest fix for this is to start doing what’s requested of you, understand the importance of proving your maturity through actions over words and earn OUR respect. Want to come and go at your own leisure? Simply buy your own car and pay your own insurance.

Being over 18 doesn’t make you a grown up.

Please. Stop stomping your feet, diploma in hand, and screaming that you’re an adult now. It only makes us giggle. The only thing you’ve accomplished to date is getting through high school. Big whoop. It’s the 21^st century, filled with technology that practically reads the books for you. You’re supposed to finish high school. Whatever path you’re on right now doesn’t detract from the reality that you are presently living with your mommy and daddy and you will not – cannot – be considered a grown up under these amusing circumstances. Until you are financially independent you are decidedly NOT a grown up. Don’t be mad. Don’t sulk. And don’t ever be foolish enough to think the grass is greener elsewhere. I defy you to find a living situation better than here (yet if you do, I will most certainly help you pack your things). My motivation is solely love. I am doing my part in preparing you to be a good wife, mother, or husband, a stellar employee, an upstanding citizen or an under-the-radar inmate.

You. Are. Welcome.

Love,

Mom

Tina Drakakis blogs at Eyerollingmom and recently was featured in Huff Post. She appeared in the Boston production of “Listen to Your Mother: Giving Motherhood a Microphone.” Her work has been featured in NPR’s “This I Believe” radio series yet she places “Most Popular 1984” on top of her list of achievements. (Next would be the home improvement reality TV show of 2003 but her kids won’t let her talk about that anymore). A witty mother of four, she takes on cyberspace as @Eyerollingmom on Twitter and Eyerollingmom on Facebook & @Eyerollingmom on Instagram. Her collection of essays, A Momoir, can be found here (agent interest ALWAYS WELCOME!)