Moving On Is Hard To Do (At Least For This Sentimental Mom)

The moment I had been anticipating for some time came to pass last night.  When I dreamed about the moment, it played out much differently in my head.  In my head, it went something like this:  My oldest son walks down the aisle to receive his diploma.  But, before he accepts his diploma, he turns to the crowd, searching for me, his mom, and yells, "Thanks, Mom.  I couldn't have done it without you."  Yup, that's actually what I dreamed his graduation from 8th grade would be like.  Can you tell I'm a bit delusional?  I choose to hold on to these fantasy-like dreams, however.  I have 6 kids...maybe by the time I get to the youngest, he will accept the bribe to give a shout-out to poor old Mom, who happens to be a basket-case in the seats.

My graduating son promptly brought me back to reality when he took one look at my tear- stained cheeks and said, "Mom, seriously, you need to get a grip.  It's 8th grade graduation.  Have you ever known ANYONE who did not graduate from 8th grade?"  Wiseguy.  He just doesn't get how a mother thinks. 

This wasn't just about graduating from 8th grade, I wanted to shout.  This was about more than that.  Sure, I was beaming with pride at my 8th grade son and all he has become so far but this night was about much more.  It was about me...his mom.  Yup, I'm that self-centered.  It symbolized, to me, moments, all wrapped up in one simple ceremony: 

*As he walked down the aisle, all I could think was:  Wow,  if I would have known how fast this time would fly by, I would have sat with him when he was a chubby little toddler for a little longer each day on the front porch.  And, geez, Roey, I hope you cherished every rocking motion and didn't think of all the wash you left undone while you rocked him.

 *As he sat in his seat and joked with his graduating buddies, all I could think was:  O, gosh, I hope his new buddies in high school are as wonderful as these guys.  Will I even know all their names and who their parents are? 

*As he posed for pictures after, I couldn't help thinking:  I wish I could still dress him up in those dorky little striped overalls and take him to the photographer's studio and order every picture package possible ( because he couldn't protest back then and I just loved stockpiling photos of him).  I am so glad I never missed the photo ops in the baby days.  Sadly, I can't say the same for my 6th child.  He's pictureless.

*And, as I searched for him at the reception afterwards (to get one, JUST ONE, for Pete's sake, family picture), I couldn't help but think: is this how it's going to be from now on? New friends, new faces, new places to hang out and all of them take him a little bit further from home.  Actually, I'll just be honest, Me.  They all take him a little bit further from me!

WAAAHHH!!!   I couldn't take it.  The apron strings had been cut and not by my choice. (I realize I have problems and attachment issues.)  But, then, at that moment, I got a tap.  A tap on the shoulder.  Mom, I'm here.  We can get a family picture.    And, I swear, all was right in the world.  He found me!  I realized that no matter where the next years take him and the next years after that, he would always find his way back home.  True, it might be because he fears his mother will have a breakdown if he doesn't but I have to have faith he will find his way with me at a distance.   To me that is one of  the biggest perks of all...knowing that your children will always, somehow, someway, find their way back home...to you, their mom.