Glimpses

It's for real. He's a college freshman.

Jorge and I just returned from three days in San Marcos, where we attended student/parent orientation.

It's for real. My baby is now a registered college freshman at Texas State, with his fall classes all lined out, his dorm assignment in hand, and his mother's emotions all "a-flutter."

It's weird sometimes how things don't go like you anticipate. I thought I had each of my boys figured out. You know, had their personalities down to a T. And most of the time I do.

And then there's those times - like this week - when it's apparent that I don't know as much as I thought I did.

Jorge, unlike his brother, has always been my independent one. He preferred to figure Lego diagrams out on his own rather than accept help.

He was the one who ignored skinned knees and bloody scrapes and climbed onto his little green bike again and again....and again...until at last he conquered the mystery of balancing without training wheels - and without parental help.

He is the one who has known for years what he planned to do with his life, and he's never waivered from it. It isn't something that he speaks a lot about, but his goals are sure and unwavering. He knows what he wants and he's willing to do the work to get there.

He is the one who has spoken so calmly and matter-of-factly about his upcoming transition to college life. Never for one second did I think he would ever have second thoughts, or anxiety, or just plain 'ol uncertainty about this phase of his life.

So imagine my surprise when I receive a call from him late on Monday night. We had split into our different sessions at eleven that morning and I'd not seen him since then. I was staying in a nearby motel and he was staying in a dorm on campus.

"Hey." His voice was low and husky when I answered.

"Hey." I felt my insides quaver just a bit as I tried to decipher this new sound in his tone. "You okay?"

"Sure." He paused and I waited. "But listen, I was just reading over our schedule for tomorrow and I noticed that parents can join us for breakfast. So I was wondering if you could meet me here at 6:45 in the morning?"

"I'll be there." I had to hold back tears as I gave my word. I felt so many things in that one, precious moment. Pride. Protectiveness. Joy. Fear. Hesitation. More pride. More joy. It was that wonderful,  indescribable tug-of-war that we moms must endure as our children grow up and learn to navigate the world all on their own.

It's essential that they learn to do it.

It's equally essential that we LET them do it.

But Jorge confirmed for me the one thing I needed to have confirmed in that precious phone call.

He's still my boy.

I'm still his mama.

And it doesn't matter if he's eighteen, or twenty-eight, or forty-eight - when he calls me and asks me to meet him for breakfast at 6:45 in the morning - I'll be there.

In the meantime, it looks as though I'm now not only a BearKat mama, but also a Bobcat mama. How will I ever keep it all straight...?

Here ya go!

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It's that time again.

Here I sit, mere hours before Jorge walks across the stage, shakes the principal's hand, and finally grasps the long-awaited diploma. As most moms do, the past few days have been full of memories as I've reviewed the past twelve years of his school life. It's a kick in the head to realize that, as of tonight, we no longer have "school-age" children.

What I'm loving about this year is that I'm truly in the moment. Enjoying the entire process. I suppose I'm just as emotional as I was last year this time as we went through Nate's end-of-senior-year activities. But now I'm keenly aware that if I allow myself to indulge in the tears and the nostalgia and the sheer, unadulterated emotion, I may well miss out on on one very important fact: this is it. My baby, the final child in our household, is crossing the threshold between child and man.

While I will most certainly wipe a few errant tears tonight as my heart thuds with maternal pride along about eight o'clock, I intend to relish this milestone to the fullest. And, for those of you interested, there will be a full pictorial soon, very soon. Probably tomorrow, knowing me.

Until then...I'm off to put new batteries in the camera, place the final touches on party preparations for tomorrow, and then take a moment to...breathe.

And enjoy the moment.

Happy 18th Birthday, Jorge. I love you.

the graduate, part II

Truly, it seems as though mere weeks have passed since Nate's graduation last year and yet, here we are again.

Forty-nine weeks later, and only twenty short days before my baby - Jorge - makes that same stroll across the stage, shakes the principal's hand, and claims that all-important diploma.

After the emotional upheaval of going through Nate's graduation, his "last" summer at home, and then the drama of dropping him off at his college campus in August, I was sure that this time around I would be calm, cool, and collected.

After all, I was a professional mom of nearly grown young men now, wasn't I?

Up until a few days ago, I was still convinced of this. And then Jorge finally made his college decision and for the first time I saw the shimmer of excitement in his eyes and heard the anticipation in his voice.

"They have a great art department, Mom." He looked at me almost as though he wanted my approval. I only nodded and smiled. Jorge's artistic abilities are one of the many things I admire in him and - quite honestly - we have absolutely no idea where he inherited this talent. I'm convinced it's surely just a God-thing.

Just last week I attended a local art show where some of his pottery pieces were on display. I couldn't hide the grin of pure 'ol plain pride as I ignored the sign and reached out to lightly finger the works of...my son. My quiet child, and by far the more introspective, Jorge constantly surprises me with the many talents that he modestly tries to keep well-hidden. 

While he'll be majoring in psychology, I'm happy he's planning to continue to foster his artisitic abilities. He in no way needs my approval to do so, but he certainly has it. I know of one college campus that is in for a real treat. He's a great kid, with large dreams and the drive to make them come true.

Just this afternoon, I was going through a box of things that the boys had made for me over the years for Mother's Day. I came across this framed poem from Jorge, dated 1996, when he was just seven years old. It reads:

Sometimes you get discouraged

because I am so small

and always leave my fingerprints

on furniture and walls.

But everyday I'm growing up,

and soon I'll be so tall.

That all those little handprints

will be hard to recall.

So here's my little handprint

I've so carefully made,

to help you recall

when I was so small.

I looked at the red handprint and traced the small fingers that had so carefully been dipped in paint and then pressed into the paper. How true this poem has proven to be. Everyday since then he grew a bit more each day. And now he's six feet tall, facing high school graduation, and excitedly making college plans.

Oh, for those days of fingerprints on the walls...

But even though those days are behind us, each and every day he still leaves handprints on my heart.

And I don't think he'll ever grow too old for that.