On the Way to Grad

No matter what your age, some days are just more challenging than others. Take yesterday, for example.

My eldest daughter earned her Bachelor of Education degree recently, and yesterday was her commencement ceremony. This was a big deal to me because, hey, I’m a proud mom.

Darling daughter, however, felt less than excited about attending, since she actually finished school in December and has been teaching ever since. (I don’t mind bragging here—any mother worth her salt would do the same—by telling you that she is one of only a handful of her classmates who has, to date, been hired as a teacher.) But my daughter is nothing if not (somewhat) dutiful, so she (relatively) graciously acquiesced to my request for her to walk for graduation.

Of course, in agreeing to participate in her commencement ceremony, Daughter had a few rules: no fuss, no luncheon, (almost) no family, and no gifts (since we had already given her that most classic of grad gifts, a watch). I didn’t even get her a card or flowers.

Nonetheless, the commencement morning dawned, and I was excited. Not only was my daughter graduating, but also I was asked to read two scripture passages during the service.

See? I was in the program.

After (finally) settling on an appropriate parent-who-is-reading-the-scripture ensemble (my blue Anne Klein power suit with a white blouse), curling my hair, and applying (most of) my make-up, I headed out the door to pick my mom up for the ceremony.

At a stoplight en route to my mom’s place, I hastily applied my mascara. Let me just share that it’s never a good idea to hastily apply mascara—but it’s especially not a good idea to hastily apply mascara when you’re on your way to a commencement ceremony at which you are the parent scripture-reader. Because it could (or, in my case, did) lead to getting a big blob of mascara on the bridge of one’s nose.

I’m not especially proud of this, but I’d be remiss if I omitted the fact that I cursed (also not the best idea for a scripture-reading parent, because even though God is forgiving, He might make you pay for it a little).

Just as I reached behind to grab a tissue from the box in the back seat, I watched—seemingly in slow motion—the top button from my Anne Klein jacket (a lovely silver thing with Anne Klein’s name circling its perimeter) pop loose, arc over the passenger seat, and land somewhere in a crevice (not to be confused with a “crevasse” in case you happen to be a certain French teacher) between the seat and door.

I’m not sure, but I might have cursed again.

Then I (illegally, because I used my cell phone while driving, which I also don’t recommend) called my mom (because moms are nothing if not rescuers) and asked her to grab a needle and thread on her way out the door.

I’m pretty sure I set a world record for button-sewing-on-while-idling-in-one’s-vehicle. Twenty minutes (and at least two frantic calls from the grad whose cap and gown were in my car) later, Mom and I arrived safely.

Proud Grama and mama with the Grad, who wore flat shoes, which was why I appear taller than she is.

The rest of the morning went smoothly, and Daughter’s husband, Grama and I were extraordinarily proud.

Later that afternoon, the graduate and I enjoyed a mother-daughter French pedicure. So much better than a card and flowers.