Because this happened:
It is still hard for me to believe that our oldest child is a college graduate. It seems as if I was a college graduate not too long ago.
But, in fact, it was a long, long time ago for me:
I don't know sometimes if I feel much older than I did then; it's the whole "I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now" thing. I don't even know what it means, but I know exactly what it means.
I don't know how I became the middle-aged mom and not the teenaged sister.
I don't know how my child, my child— the one who used to insist on wearing gloves all the time for his "protection suit," the one who used to say, "You and Daddy are my best friends"—I don't know how he is on this list of graduates.
|Magna cum laude, yep|
A lot of people have congratulated me, telling me what a good job I did. You know, how as a homeschooling family, we have really shown what we can do.
But honestly, and I do not say this with any sort of false humility, I feel almost completely removed from his college experience. He did this. He worked really, really hard.
I mean, here's the truth: I read some of his papers and had no idea what he was talking about. He out-thinks me. Oh sure: I thought that hard and wrote that well when I was 21, but now my brain has mushified with years of parenting, and I think: W-O-W. He's really amazing.
I'm just really proud of him. Really, really amazed. I know we gave him a great academic foundation, but he built upon that foundation all by himself.
And so, our graduate is home now. And our daughter has finished her junior year and is now an official senior. And this one? This youngest one?
Thank goodness I have a few more years with him.
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