Monday, April 15, 2013

The Graduate

In four short weeks, my baby boy is going to graduate from high school. This is him at 2, when we lived in Ventura.

Those cheeks!

He came into the world through the trap door, as he was completely content to have stayed in my uterus for all of eternity. (For any of you who birthed a baby the way you're supposed to do it, his head was still FREELY FLOATING when the doctor pulled him out the trap door.) 

He peed on the doctor as he came out (a final act of protest for dragging him out of his comfortable surroundings).

At 9 pounds, 13 ounces, he was the biggest baby in the nursery.

He also had the most fingers.

(Relax, the eleventh finger was really just a skin tag, about the size of a baby pea and attached to the side of his left pinky finger. The doctor tied it off, and it shriveled up and fell off with in a week or so. He still has a tiny, round, raised area on the side of his pinky where it used to be.)

He was slightly jaundiced and had to take sunbaths.

He didn't latch on properly and did horrible things to my nipples, forcing me to bring in a lactation consultant. And a breast pump.

He spit up gallons. GALLONS. Projectile spit up. We were amazed he could gain weight, he spit up so much.

He blew out a diaper about once a day, shooting poop up the back of his diaper and/or out the legs.

His feet were long and skinny. My first thought when I saw them was that if he were a puppy, we'd return him to the pound, because if he grew into those feet, we wouldn't be able to afford to feed him.  He couldn't wear those cute size 0 crib shoes we got as gifts, and he outgrew sleepers at the feet before he did in the length.

He cried every night when he was put to bed, and he cried every morning as soon as his eyes opened.

We thought he was perfect.

Nearly 18 years later, he is graduating. He is number 2 in his class of over 500 students. He has lettered in three sports. He has a full academic scholarship to Missouri State University. 

He wears a size 15 shoe and we can't afford to feed him.

You were put on this earth to do great things, my son.

Get out there and show them what you've got.


  1. Holy cow! Congrats on the scholarship! Hard to believe that little two year old is the same handsome young man in the other photo.
    Our sons sound similar. I know projectile vomit, sister. The kind where no one will hold him, because "spit-up" is guaranteed.
    Mine is only 14 and in a 13 and 1/2 shoe, and he doesn't even have hair under his arms yet. We can't afford to feed him, either.
    I will now cross my fingers that he also gets the full ride. :)

    1. Thanks so much! I'd like to say he got there through hard work and a lot of effort, but I would be lying. He's just stinking smart.

      Our boys DO sound alike. If yours makes it to a 15, let me warn you now that that is NOT something you just walk into a store and buy whenever he needs shoes.

      Oh, and he actually spit up some milk (not vomit, SPIT UP) when he was 17 months old. Now he has a cast iron stomach. Go figure.

  2. I thought we had some big feet in this house - but not that big!

    You've got to be just about busting at the seams with pride.

  3. I had no idea he was #2. Tell him not to put me to sleep with his speech, please.
    And, does he know you wrote this? Because I'm sure he greatly appreciates the whole "latching on" info.
    I'm so thrilled I could pee my pants about the MSU scholarship.
    Go, Kyle, go. But remember that your sister plans on being president before you.

    1. He doesn't read my blog, so I'm safe. I think his speech will consist of "Obama's coming to OUR graduation, too, right?" And the MSU scholarship is awwwwwwwesome!

    2. LOL - you might have to add that one as an addendum to your favorite quotes post :-)

    3. I believe it's his senior quote in the yearbook....

  4. Congrats on his big day! My daughter is graduating from college next month. Damn, it makes me feel old.

    I had similar problems breast feeding both of my kids. I think I just had defective boobs. The milk came out just fine, but neither of them latched on well enough to get any without pumping.

    Projectile pooper should be a great fratboy nickname (don't you think?). Cheers!

    1. I could write an entire blog post about breastfeeding him, but it still hurts my boobies to think about it. Which is weird, because these AREN'T EVEN THE SAME BOOBIES I HAD THEN. Sympathy pains.

  5. Aww proud mama. Congrats to you both. A full scholarship?? How awesome. Please share your trade secrets.

    1. Thank you! He's really, really, really smart and also interviews well. That's the only real trade secret I have. Take lots of AP classes. Take on leadership roles in extra curricular activities. Some dumb luck comes in handy, too.

  6. Why are you doing this to me?? *sob sob*
    In all seriousness, you should be one proud mama! And like I'm already telling myself, we can't stop time and it won't do me any good to wallow, so be happy for this moment. Be happy to get to have it!
    Congrats to your son!!
    :) xo

    1. Thank you, Michelle! We're very proud of him (the little shit - he puts everything off until the last minute and then pulls it off, brilliantly). I am trying to adopt my friend's theory that you don't cry when they reach milestones like this, you cry if they DON'T. So I'm celebrating that he is going away to college, because it's better than crying that he's going to be living in our basement, eating potato chips and playing video games. (I really am a Pollyanna.)