For many students in our area, school is back in session. My older son is now a senior in high school. A senior! I’m going to die. I’m going to cry, then throw up, then die, then cry some more, then run to the bathroom, then die again, and then cry. It’s a very busy schedule and I have no idea how I’m going to fit anything else in, what with so much crying and dying and all. 

Have you ever played the drinking game where you take a sip every time someone says a specific word? Poughkeepsie — drink! We’re going to change it up just a bit from drinking to crying and play “The Crying Game.” 

Instead of getting stinking drunk, I’m going to cry so much I get dehydrated. That’s because every time someone says a specific word, I’m going to burst into tears. 

Well, there are a lot of specific words: senior, graduation, college, university, trade school, high school, school, campus, cap, gown, finals, dorm, roommate, tuition, scholarship, any city other than St. Louis, and Davis.

I don’t remember crying when my kids were born. I don’t remember much, maybe because they were both born via C-section and I was flat on my back, drugged out of my mind, waiting for it to be over. It was just like conception. 

Now, I do sometimes well up with tears at random kid things. A play they make at soccer or baseball games. An award at school. A compliment someone gives us about them, particularly if it has to do with manners as “home” offspring can be wildly different than “away” offspring. It might embarrass them a bit (Seriously, Mom, you’re crying over catching a pop fly?) but if they want a robot for a mother they will have to move to Mars. 

Davis (cry) works very hard and does an excellent job in high school (cry). His grades are stellar, which clearly has nothing do with me genetically. It’s all Jeff. Davis (cry) even does well in science, which to me was just a class where we put drops of things on other things to see what all goes on with it. I’m not saying Davis (cry) is a genius, but I am saying that I know exactly how Albert Einstein’s mother must have felt. 

This looks like bragging, but it is not bragging. It is factual information delivered from a mom’s perspective … that happens to be extremely accurate and slightly biased. Look, you guys, I’ve literally never exaggerated in my entire life. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times. 

I have an entire year before Davis (cry) leaves for college (cry). If I just change my mindset a little, I can be excited for all the incredible things waiting in his future. It will be amazing for him to live in a dorm (cry) with a roommate (cry), make his way around campus (cry) every day, do his own laundry (getting better), have freedom and independence beyond the (ridiculously generous) amount he has now. 

Next year when Davis (cry) is in college (cry) he will have to fill out his own forms. When it comes to emergency contacts, he should just put 9-1-1 because really, what is his mom going to do?

I can’t believe it is here, his final year of high school (cry). This is the last time I will take a picture of him holding a ridiculous mom-made sign. Going for the joke has been fun but, this year,  fate is going for the jugular. 

Actually, I don’t know if I’m about to burst into tears or burst into flames. 

My tune will change drastically when college (cry) graduation (cry) comes around, because then the boys are off the Mom and Dad payroll (CHEER)!