Two. Two in high school. How can this be? Weren't we just rocking you to sleep? (or not to sleep, that is the question.) The first one's orientation was definitely an arrow through the heart - this awful realization that they are about to experience what seemed pretty fresh on my mind pierced deeply. Although my high school days are far behind me, I still feel like I'm there. But I'm like, way not there. And how many more tuck ins are left? Let's not even go there. I'm not ready at all.
So I sat with Joe during the "Electives Night" at the local high school - it was filled with parents & kids like us. Everyone jam-packed into the cafeteria, sampling all of the fun stuff the school has to offer. There were food offerings from the language clubs, a drone flying above the JrROTC booth, moms greeting other moms, and me - trying to place names with faces I sort of recognized from when the children were in elementary school together. People change a lot in 4-5 years, especially kids. So I put on my baseball cap & just kindof moseyed through the crowd and ended up in the dark auditorium where the administration tells ya how it's done.
Joe & I sat on the very last row. He picked it. And when the first speaker came out, Joe flashed "SOS" in morse code with the light on his cellphone. I hurriedly covered it up, but at the same time, that old familiar high school smirk reappeared beneath my aged skin. It was kindof funny. Totally disrespectful, but I admit, I felt the same way, buddy. How did we get here, and can somebody please save us? This ride we're on is spinning out of control.
But we've got it. After all, I've set a tracker on your cellphones, kids. And if you end up anywhere you're not supposed to be, Mama Bear's going in. And that even means if the tracker is turned off. I WILL find you. And it won't be a pretty sight. At least when we get home. Your friends don't need to see my angry elf side.
You'll probably be embarrassed of me. And that's ok. It's normal. You'll probably think that I'm too strict, and we'll go back & forth about privileges that other kids have that you don't. That's ok, too. And one day, you'll thank me just like I thanked my mom, and just like she thanked her mom, and so on. You'll mess up. You're supposed to. You'll feel unloved, unpopular, unworthy, and someone will most certainly break your heart. We all felt that way. It's part of the struggle that makes us better people. I don't want to see you go through it, but you probably will. Know this:
I was sitting in one of those parent conferences at church and heard one of the leaders say something I won't forget. She told her children "that there is nothing that you can do that I won't love you through, and God won't get you through." Amen, sista. It's the truest.
So our babies, (yes, you always will be - get used to it) know that at home, you will feel loved, popular, & worthy, and we will never break your heart. At home, you will always be safe, and I will rock you as long as you let me. At home, you will find that God is above all, and He's got this.
Good luck in high school, our brave middle child. It's lucky to have you (and your big sister, who I know always has your back.)
So I sat with Joe during the "Electives Night" at the local high school - it was filled with parents & kids like us. Everyone jam-packed into the cafeteria, sampling all of the fun stuff the school has to offer. There were food offerings from the language clubs, a drone flying above the JrROTC booth, moms greeting other moms, and me - trying to place names with faces I sort of recognized from when the children were in elementary school together. People change a lot in 4-5 years, especially kids. So I put on my baseball cap & just kindof moseyed through the crowd and ended up in the dark auditorium where the administration tells ya how it's done.
Joe & I sat on the very last row. He picked it. And when the first speaker came out, Joe flashed "SOS" in morse code with the light on his cellphone. I hurriedly covered it up, but at the same time, that old familiar high school smirk reappeared beneath my aged skin. It was kindof funny. Totally disrespectful, but I admit, I felt the same way, buddy. How did we get here, and can somebody please save us? This ride we're on is spinning out of control.
But we've got it. After all, I've set a tracker on your cellphones, kids. And if you end up anywhere you're not supposed to be, Mama Bear's going in. And that even means if the tracker is turned off. I WILL find you. And it won't be a pretty sight. At least when we get home. Your friends don't need to see my angry elf side.
You'll probably be embarrassed of me. And that's ok. It's normal. You'll probably think that I'm too strict, and we'll go back & forth about privileges that other kids have that you don't. That's ok, too. And one day, you'll thank me just like I thanked my mom, and just like she thanked her mom, and so on. You'll mess up. You're supposed to. You'll feel unloved, unpopular, unworthy, and someone will most certainly break your heart. We all felt that way. It's part of the struggle that makes us better people. I don't want to see you go through it, but you probably will. Know this:I was sitting in one of those parent conferences at church and heard one of the leaders say something I won't forget. She told her children "that there is nothing that you can do that I won't love you through, and God won't get you through." Amen, sista. It's the truest.
So our babies, (yes, you always will be - get used to it) know that at home, you will feel loved, popular, & worthy, and we will never break your heart. At home, you will always be safe, and I will rock you as long as you let me. At home, you will find that God is above all, and He's got this.
Good luck in high school, our brave middle child. It's lucky to have you (and your big sister, who I know always has your back.)
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