the last month of senior year and this mama is not ok, yet

I thought I was ready.

I am not.

I have known this day was coming for years - 18 to be exact. And yet, here I am, desperately willing time to slow down.

But time has other plans.

And so does my graduating senior.

it’s all The little lasts

Nobody warns you that senior year isn’t just about your child getting ready to leave. It’s about you preparing to let them go. And that "letting go" part? Well, it basically feels like sawing off an appendage all while pretending you’re totally fine and trying not to literally or emotionally bleed out before senior awards night. Dramatic, maybe. Accurate, absolutely.

While senior year seems to be a running symphony of “lasts”, the final month of senior year is the bittersweet finale. The last time they are fully, totally, daily yours. The last time you’ll get that “I forgot my physics notebook at home, can you please drop it off at school for me” text. The last time you’ll remind them for the 100th time to “bring a jacket”, and they’ll still walk out the door wearing nothing but a T-shirt. The last time you’ll have a front row seat to them cramming for that test that they waited until the last minute to study for or stressing about that English paper they procrastinated on writing. And the last time you will be able to say, “time to to go to sleep, you have school in the morning”.

And who knew that I would be mourning every single one of those lasts.

emotional whiplash

There is no preparing for the emotional whiplash of senior spring. For me, the reality of it came flooding in along with the college decisions. The realization that in a matter of months, this amazing human who I helped grow and shape will be off in the world on his own. One minute, I’m proud to be sending him off to live his best life, and the next, I’m secretly Googling “most important things for a parent to teach a teenager before they move out” because, let’s be real, it’s a lot. I mean, this is a person who actually asked me why it was necessary to wash towels if you are only using them after a shower or washing your hands because, “obviously you are already clean at that point” - yes, direct quote.

And don’t even get me started on the emotional tug-of-war that I am constantly raging in my head and my heart. The struggle between, “Please be free and live out all your dreams” and “Please don’t leave me” are very real. It's that constant balancing act between being his biggest supporter and secretly wishing I could keep him in arm’s reach - preferably bubble-wrapped.

Life Will Never Look the Same — and That’s Ok, it has to be

So to all you fellow “senior” parents out there - if you are anything like me, you are likely pretty freaked out about now. Honestly, if you weren’t, I might be a little worried about you. Our lives (and theirs) are never going to look quite the same. And that is both scary and exciting and heartbreaking all at the same time. We have to give ourselves the permission to grieve and to celebrate. We are allowed to feel it all. The sadness and the pride. The fear and the joy. And if that means ugly crying in while ordering the graduation cake, so be it. Shit, I have been ugly crying the whole time that I have been writing this!

And let’s be honest here, who doesn’t look at their soon-to-be graduate and see that sweet little kid who cried hysterically when you left them at pre-school for the first time? Or the image of that cherub-faced cutie in their cap and gown at kindergarten graduation? It feels like just yesterday you were changing their diapers and tying their shoes, and now they will be the ones learning to pay bills on time (hopefully), trying to make a meal using something other than a microwave (maybe), and remembering to buy toilet paper before they run out (fingers crossed). But they’ll always be our baby in some way. And no amount of graduation tassels will ever change that.

so Hang On - but Let Go too

The truth is, this last month is going to be tough. But it’s going to be beautiful too.

It’s all about hanging on - to memories, moments and the knowledge that you can’t start a new chapter without finishing another.

And to letting go, even when it hurts. Being proud that you have raised a human being who is ready to step into the world — even if you aren't quite ready to let them. Because as much as this all sucks, it also means we did our job.

So my plan for the next month is to cry an embarrassing amount of tears, take approximately 1500 photos (because I also want to cherish being told that I am a “stalker” just a little longer), hug him every chance I get, and then brace myself to do it all over again next year with kid #2!