And Poof, You Have a Graduate.

I'm pretty sure that the never-ending Wisconsin winter is the reason why I wasn't totally prepared for this year's graduation season and even worse, our oldest child's graduation.  Commencement and the subsequent parties are a spring thing and it just never seemed as though it would ever appear.  Adding insult to my self inflicted injury, you would think that a woman whose spouse in the business of graduation (husband's a Josten's guy) would be totally prepared for this celebration.  Nothing could be further from the truth.

I keep putting off addressing the box of graduation announcements at my desk.  I think I'm in denial.  Or self-preservation. Or something.  I don't think I'm ready to set him free.

A friend told me that I will be ready (really?) and that when the time is here, I will be relieved.  However, just looking at this picture makes me blurry and I can't help but think that a kid who recently drove husband's 57 Buick into the front porch isn't quite world prepared.  Not to mention that every one of his socks is pink from mixing reds and whites and that he still rinses his plate on the side of the sink without a disposal.  I have visions of him living in college housing dressed head to toe in unacceptably washed clothing with the smell of standing food lingering.  Or worse.

But the worst of me unravels when I think of the good stuff. How amazing he is, funny, sweet, and sensitive.  How can this kid be prepared to launch into a world that isn't always accepting of sensitive?  I'm worried that he will show up at our door with boot marks across his face.  Is it possible the we (read: I)  ruined him?

Last night we pulled out his baby pictures for the yearbook.  I was looking at the pictures of that chubby face dressed in full teddy bear gear (complete with ears) and forgive the cliche but it was truly just yesterday.  My heart ached.  I don't care if that is another cliche because it really did ache. I realized long ago that I can't every wrap him up in teddy bear pajamas and protect but it’s a whole different ball game when you feel like you may be feeding your child to sharks.   

My one consolation is that I'm not alone.  I'm thinking that many parents are in the same boat just hoping that when the child does stumble and fall; he will have the ability to dust off and re-start.  Unfortunately for husband, his 57 Buick does not have the same luxury..... but that's another blog post.