Two Kinds of Seniors
“I’m probably just as good a mother as the next repressed, obsessive-compulsive paranoiac.” ― Anne Lamott, Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son's First Year
I tend to forget things. My keys. Where I put my phone. And where, by the way, did I happen to set down the last 18 years?
I forget things. Did I already say that? I get angry at technology. I wear reading glasses. I pee when I sneeze.
I'm a senior.
Nearly 18 years ago, an intense little baby made her way into the world (after 17 hours of labor) and made me a mother.
I blinked.
And she is suddenly a senior--in high school. She's a senior. But we're not the same kind of senior.
Wait, what? Wasn't I just a senior in high school? Like, five minutes ago? Didn't I prove that by starting the previous sentence with the word "like?"
I forgot what I was saying. Oh yeah.
We know time will go fast. But it doesn't just go fast. It goes fast. Joan Didion said, "Life changes in the instant. The ordinary instant." It makes us mamas sad and scared and frantic. So I decided I would try to capture some of these Speedy Gonzales moments in a blog so I wouldn't miss or forget them.
These senior moments.
I hope if I capture them the picture won't be so blurry from the speed with which time is moving. I'll have snapshots. Times and places where I stop and make space for experience and memory.
As a parent, there are so many times when life is fast and chaotic: the sink is piled with dishes, the book report isn't done, and the dog just pooped in the quilting room, and it's time to go to the next game/concert/meet/meeting. There are so many times we want to scream, "STOP!" Not just at the kids, or the laundry, or the sports' schedules. But at time.
Just stop. Everyone just stop where you are.
Let me look at you.
Let me see your sleepy eyes while you eat your cereal. Your face when you are curious. How you tuck your hair behind your ear. The way your pinkie hooks over your lip when you read.
Let me really see you...before you go.
So this is our story. Our senior moments. Abby's and mine. The mother-daughter perspective. We'll talk about the very different ways we'll experience the same things: school, curfews, college visits, boyfriends, and chores. And also the very same way we don't think we can live without each other. I might just be speaking for myself there. We'll roll our eyes at each other in equal measure. We'll fight. Make up. And if we forget, we can go back and read about it. The fuzzy edges will sharpen.
And then Abby will graduate. And go somewhere to be amazing. And I'll stay here, and get ready to do it again. And again. And again.
I hope you'll tune in! Subscribe so you know when new posts are available. Tell us about your senior moments, too!
"Closing time. Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." -Semisonic
