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The stack of graduation announcements grows by the day this time of year.  

Each year, the long standing traditions that mark the end of high school give rise to a new group of boo-hooing mamas, sitting through the seemingly endless parade of children in adult bodies, dressed in cheap polyester gowns and ugly caps, waiting for the moment when their child crosses the stage so they can capture it on the flip camera for posterity.

My first kid graduated high school last year.  And honestly, I had no idea what kind of emotional wreck I might be.

So I had a talk with my daughter that went something like this: 

“I’ll try not to cry… If I do cry, I’ll try not to do it at a time or in a place where you would be embarrassed. … If you’re embarrassed, just ignore me.”

Turns out, I didn’t need to worry.

I was prepared with plenty of tissues, and as Pomp and Circumstance cued the entrance of graduates I felt my throat tighten.  But then, an individual whose house my daughter had decorated with a six-month supply of Charmin walked in, and I got the giggles instead.

Bless her heart.

It’s not that I don’t relate a little to the nostalgia.  There is something that gives one pause as you watch your child walk across that stage, a mostly grown-up person.  You realize, while the significance of your input into her life is not diminished, from now on, it will be limited. 

I thought all of that as I watched my daughter, and I echoed the sentiments of most parents who experience that moment:  where did the time go?

But then I thought a little more. 

And I’ll tell you where the time goes:  laundry. 

Laundry, and cleaning the homework papers out of a backpack. 

Making lunches.  Making cookies to go into the lunches.

Taking the forgotten lunch to school. 

Holding up multiplication flashcards.  Chasing down the right sports equipment. 

Making sure the teacher gets a good Christmas gift. Making the teacher’s Christmas gift.

Waiting in the carpool line. 

Finding the other sock.  Or the other shoe.  Finding the right shoes if you have a daughter. 

Wiping.  Bottoms, noses, tears.  Hair out of the eyes.  The certain-kind-of-grin off your face.

Listening with love and concern to the myriad incidents that cause emotional pain and distress – knowing that truth and time will put them all in perspective, and this child will likely forget about it long before you do.

Listening with love and concern to practice sessions.  Paying the piano teacher anyway.

I have three more kids to graduate.  I will be doing all this stuff for a long time. 

And that’s where the time will go.

The days drag on, but the years fly by.  And while I love almost every minute of my kids' growing-up time, it's been a lot of work.  Frankly, I don’t have the energy to do it forever.  

So, I didn’t cry at graduation.  I did a happy dance!

And then I sent her on her merry way to college.  And I have to say, I really like the person who has returned from her first year of college.  She can find her own socks and manage her own schedule. 

I’m still doing her laundry though.  We’ll have to do something about that.

Humor writer Hallie Bandy is the mother of four children and lives on a farmette in rural Kentucky--both of which provide more than enough fodder for her writing.  She is a regular ShareWIK.com columnist. 

More Hallie Bandy articles, click here.


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