not-so-super-mom... again.

So it's summer. Really. I think it really is today. I think we might actually stay above 50 degrees until October. Here's crossing my fingers and knocking on OtterPops anyway.

The past two weeks have been filled with several awards ceremonies and other miscellaneous end-of-the-school-year whatzits. Because Dave and I have such goofy schedules, we've been taking turns hitting the different functions in order to ensure the presence of at least one parent for each child's big deal. Sixth grade graduation was the day before the last day of school. Since the twins had a book report they requested their father's attendance at later in the day, I took the graduation.

This was our third 6th grader to graduate, but the first 6th grade graduation I hadn't helped plan and pull off. I felt like this was going to be a vacation since the last two had been a full day of ceremonies, food, and activities for 90 tweens. There had been no time for sweet reflections (sigh, my little girl's growing up...), not a moment for the outfit-check (everything tucked in? Anything hanging out?), not even a second for the camera check (well it's not like they're in caps and gowns, I can get a picture of her with her graduation certificate later...).

Because I have no pictures of my older girls graduating from 6th grade, I felt it was safer to leave the camera at home again this time, thus avoiding awkward questions later ("Mom, why did you take all those pictures of her graduating, and none of me?!"). I didn't realize my blunder until after the graduation speakers had wrapped up their "this isn't the end, it's only the beginning/we are the future/as we go forward, standing on the threshold of tomorrow/oh the places you'll go/follow your dreams!" and other such inspiring thoughts.

Solemnly, the principal walked to the podium to instruct the students on how to properly receive their diplomas. "Students, you'll stand up, walk allllll the way around the back of the auditorium, and wait here until we call your name," she said. "Then you'll come forward, shake all of our hands, get your diploma, and exit the stage right across here."

Right. Got it. Around the back of the auditorium, wait there, names get called (I cheer extra loudly on Ry), they shake hands, they exit the stage.

"But before you leave the stage, you'll stop right here," the principal continued. "Right here, where this 'x' is on the floor, in this spot with all the balloons and the spotlight and the little nook that looks like it'll be just perfect for your graduation photo. Right here you'll stop and hold up your diploma so your moms can get a picture of you, and you'll never forget this special day and how it felt to graduate from the best elementary school on the planet!"

Photo? You mean, like, with a camera? Like the one I left at home sitting on the table with dead batteries? Taken by the mom? I mean, like, me??

Flashback to those 45 seconds at home when I said to myself, "I'd hate for anyone to think I was playing favorites by bringing my camera to only one child's graduation..." Good call, mom. Flashforward to picturing Ry walking up the stage, shaking hands, receiving her diploma, and then stopping to pause for her glorious graduation photo on the little 'x' in the spotlight and no one steps forward to flash a picture of this most precious moment in all of 6th gradedom.

I could be wrong, but this could be a bad mommy moment. Nothing says "Your mommy doesn't really love you" more than being the only kid not getting her picture taken while the entire 6th grade and their parents, grandparents, siblings, cousins, and pets look on. Hey, everybody, look at that kid who isn't getting her picture taken! Doesn't anyone love her??

They called up the first class and I watched, carefully, to see if anyone, anyone else in this blessed room neglected to bring a camera. There! That girl there! Oh, no. No, her mom, dad, grandmother, aunt, and call me crazy, but that looks like a complete stranger, just stepped out from behind the mass of moms waiting with their cameras. Snap, flash, snap, snap. Every single kid had someone taking their picture.

Just as they called Ry's class up, I remembered that every cell phone on the planet is equipped with a camera, and I. Have. A. Cellphone! I'm saved! And then I remembered that I've been trying to milk out my 4-year-old phone and the camera isn't working any more. Flashforward to imagining myself pretending to take her picture with my broken camera, and having some well-meaning woman behind me point out the fact that my phone didn't actually take that picture, I'd better try again.

Curse you, stupid camera phone and overly helpful woman! As Ry's class filed by my row, I frantically tried getting her attention. I stood up and waved my arms like a crazy woman. Luckily, that stealthy move caught her eye, and she beamed and waved at me. Instead of smiling back with the "thumbs up" she was expecting, I made the "cut" motion over and over across my neck and mouthed obviously enough for everyone in the near vicinity to catch what I was saying: "I DON'T HAVE MY CAMERA!!"

Bless that child. She grinned and mouthed, "That's okay," as she shook her head and moved forward in the line. Then, with far more composure than I had exhibited, she waited until they called her name (WOO-HOO RY!), confidently walked up the steps, shook hands, shook hands, shook hands, received her diploma, waited for the kid in front of her to clear the 'x', then gracefully stepped over it on the way to her seat.

She handled it like a pro. Almost as well as I did, I think.

Note to self: Camera at graduation. The end.