Happy Graduation Day, Mini-Me!

WAHOOOOOOO! Happy High School Graduation Day, Mini-Me! I’m so, so excited, happy, elated, thrilled, ecstatic . . . You get the point.

That’s 2 down, 1 more to go!

I’m on the downhill slope to freedom! Thank you, Lord! End of tunnel, I see you. You can’t hide. You’re right there, within my reach.

Seriously, [tears forming] I love Mini-Me so much. She is such a wonderful young lady. I worry: Did I prepare her enough? Did my choices hurt her in such a way that it will color her choices negatively? How will our relationship change? Will she truly know how much I love her?

Oh my gosh, this child has tested me in so many ways. I’ve said it before, she’s exactly like me. She rebuts, “Yeah, but I’m the new and improved version.” She’s right. The character flaws I see in her are the ones I gave her, yet she has infinitely more positive character attributes than I probably have now. In all honesty, my biggest complaint of her is how much soda she drinks. If that is my biggest complaint, then HOW BLESSED AM I!?!

We never had drugs or drinking issues, well, that I know of. We had minor boyfriend issues, but, nothing like my parents had to deal with (ssshhhh, don’t tell Mini-Me that). This kid has the patience of a saint when it comes to little children. Even though she and her sister fight like the Crips and the Bloods, she’ll always find compassion for The Weez if she sees The Weez hurting. Always.

Mini-Me, we’re starting a new chapter in our relationship. I’m scared and excited and anxious and overjoyed. Everything is changing for both of us. I love you, child. Please know that. Please know that even through all of my mess-ups, I love you. You are a remarkable young lady. I love you so much. Do you hear me, kid? I LOVE YOU, MINI-ME! Oh, and happy graduation.

Mini-Me at Kindergarten Graduation


Throne of Lies.

The other day, I posted about a bad, bad thing that I did to Mini-Me. I’m sure it was no big deal, but I felt badly about my bad, bad thing. I deceived my child, for my benefit nonetheless. In my guilt of deceiving my precious angel, I wrote the bad, bad thing post as an admission/confession. Mini-Me doesn’t regularly read my blog, especially on her own accord. At least by writing and posting about it, she may stumble upon it one day, and we will laugh and laugh and laugh. One day.

Less than 24 hours later from the day I wrote/posted about my bad, bad thing, the day of reckoning was upon us.  This is how it went down:

I was so proud of myself for slipping the rejection letter in the mail pile. Mini-Me was none the wiser. I placed all the day’s mail in a conspicuous place on the kitchen table with the rejection letter on top. It couldn’t have been more obvious even if I displayed blinking neon signs around it. All I have to do is wait for Mini-Me to find the mail. My bad, bad thing is nearly over. WHEW!

Later that evening, when I returned home from errands, Mini-Me stated, matter-of-factly, “Well, I didn’t get into such-and-such school.” Ready to start the water works, tenderly I replied, “Oh, I’m so sorry, baby. Are you okay?” “Of course! I didn’t want to go there anyway,” she quipped.


I hemmed and hawed and fretted and sweated and even cried that:

  1. Mini-Me didn’t get in to the college of my choice;
  2. that I deceived her for nothing;
  3. my heart felt sad that she was rejected. She’s amazing! What kind of jerks reject her?!?; and
  4. that she apparently wants to get as far away from me as possible!

It pangs me that I was in such agony for withholding this information and she doesn’t even care about the rejection! A mother’s worry for naught!

The following day, Mini-Me texted me, “You sit on a throne of lies.”

How am I supposed to reply to that? She’s right. Did she read my post? Does she know I deceived her or is she talking about something else I’ve done. Goodness! Does she know that I ate the last of her popcorn? Does she know that I went to Chick-fil-a without her? Surely, she’s referring to the post. Right? Regardless, I can’t let her talk to me like that. She’s probably just joking with me, but I have to be the law. I’m the mom, that’s what I do.

Naturally, I reply to her boldness. I think it worked. Don’t you?


I Did a Bad, Bad Thing.

Mini-Me is a high school senior. She and her dad have been doing all the college application stuff with little involvement from me. Frankly, I like it this way. She’s stubborn (like me) so I have no advice to offer that she’d value (according to her). If I get involved, then Mini-Me and I are sure to start WWIII.

She only applied to 3 colleges. One was her choice; the other 2 applications were obligatory because of her dad and me. Of course, we wanted her to apply to more universities, but she didn’t. Again, I stayed quiet for prior reasons stated.

Mini-Me was accepted quickly into the school of her choice. Of course. Do you want to know why she wanted to go there? Her boyfriend. Yep, her boyfriend. She NEVER would’ve picked this school otherwise. N E V E R.

A month goes by and still no word on the other college choices. She told me that she was going to the school of her choice, so I never questioned that the other 2 schools had yet to accept or deny her. Her dad was not happy about her choice and pushed the issue. We found out that her high school overlooked sending her official transcripts which resulted in the delay. Within a few short weeks of receiving her official transcripts, we heard from her dad’s choice. ACCEPTED!! Bummer because this was Mini-Me’s and my least favorite choice.

Fast forward two weeks and still no answer from the university of my choice. I keep asking and she keeps checking the mail. Actually, she’s been a mail-checking freak. Ever since she was accepted into her least favorite choice, she thought hearing from my choice would help her in her rebuttal for us to allow her to attend her choice. Also, my choice is the lessor evil if she can’t go to her school.

Friday was my birthday and Good Friday. Guess what came in the mail on Friday? Guess who was off from work for Good Friday and was able to check the mail instead of Mini-Me? Yep, c’est moi.

I open the mail box and find the letter. The very flat envelope. The very thin, see through envelope. I don’t know what came over me. No, I didn’t open the letter but I held that sucker in the sun until enough light filtered through to read the REJECTION. GASP! WHAT THE BLANKETY-BLANK-BLANK!?!?!?

Cue, Chris Isaak.

It’s MY birthday. I’ll be d@mned if I break this news to Mini-Me. Birthdays suck enough when you’re single. I’m not adding fuel to this fire.

I hid the letter.

My girls and I celebrated my birthday. It was wonderful. They treated me to a very swanky dinner and gave me awesome gifts: a mega wine cup and tennis gear. I love that they get me.

Now that my birthday is over, it’s Easter weekend. I am NOT breaking this news on Easter.

The letter stays hidden.

Now it’s Monday. Not that God supports lies, He must be behind this because the kids are not home when I come home from work. Mini-Me has not checked the mail. This is it. This is my opportunity to plant the letter with today’s mail.

Here goes nothing.