A Love Letter to Parents of Seniors -- I SEE YOU

My first born turned 18 last month and like so many of my hard-working mom peers, I have been collecting “likes” and “Congrats!” as I post pictures of him in his prospective college sweatshirt on social media. Graduation to us parents is kind of like our Oscars. After so many years of putting in the time and effort, we are finally seeing some recognition for our body of work. We might even receive an actual thank you! It is an exciting time but just as the Oscars are not at all representative of the daily grind for a working actor, the pomp and circumstance of graduation bares little resemblance to life as an actual parent. In fact, graduation is the exact moment I actually do not need praise. It is a thrilling time to be sure—somewhat like the downhill release on a roller coaster complete with the realization of all that potential energy and a boost of adrenaline. But parenting is so much more that slow creaky climb up the steep hill filled with anxiety and nervous expectations. This is the part of the ride where no one screams or claps just as this is the part of parenting where no one bursts into applause. Parenting is done behind-the-scenes, yet we don’t get to share posts or receive accolades during those in-the-trenches moments. But as I look back on the last 18 years, I want other parents to know “I see you.”

I see you finding a way to check out of the grocery store with a screaming child who has gone limp in your arms while pretending not to notice the judgmental glares from the other customers.

I see you miserably waking up in the middle of the night and not understanding how those moms in your baby group describe this “special” time as blissful.

I see you making slime even though you swore last time was the last time.

I see you in the airport bathroom with luggage, a stroller, a diaper to change, and those stall doors that open inward.

I see you sitting in a parent/teacher conference having to listen to negative feedback that you know in your heart is not true. And, I see you, using that moment as fuel to advocate for your child.

I see you waiting in a two hour line for the new release of silly bandz. Remember those?

I see you driving, driving, and driving some more with a car full of loud children as you feel that migraine coming on but know that you are hours away from any medication or caffeine.

I see you going through the trash in the back of the restaurant because you are not paying another $300 for a retainer.

I see you cheering from the stands and handing out water bottles even though your kid has not left the bench—all year.

I see you cleaning up barf in your brand new car.

I see you making that Shutterfly album only to have it disappear and start all over again.

I see you saving up for those concerts seats and wondering how much you could have scalped those Wiggles tickets for as you listen to “Fruit Salad” live.

I see you researching a 504 plan versus an IEP and then fighting like hell to make it happen.

I see you making lunches, filling water bottles, and serving up snacks like a short order cook.

I see you sitting up late at night googling a diagnosis because you had so many questions you did not want to ask the doctor in front of your child.

I see you composing those room parent emails with mindfulness only to get a “reply all” response with a minor grammatical correction from a parent who has never volunteered.

I see you giving your child the speech about how a few good friends is so much more important than a huge social circle and then stalking Instagram trying to figure out why your kid wasn’t invited to the party.

I see you feeling nauseous on the two-hour field trip bus sitting next to an anxious child who needs some extra attention even when it’s not your own kid.

I see you running the bake sale, working the auction, and sorting Lost and Found.

I see you allowing your child to fail because you know it is the right thing to do but so badly wanting to fix it.

I see you learning to cook vegan and gluten free.

I see you staying up until midnight to fill out that application for the charter school or summer program.

I see you trying to explain the significance of a hand-written thank you note to a text obsessed teenager.

I see you crying in the bathroom after four hours trying to get your anxious or scared or depressed or overwhelmed child to go to sleep.

I see you in all those waiting rooms.

I see you watching your teenagers form their own worldviews and being supportive even when you know there is so much they don’t know.

I see you doing the laundry every single day and not understanding why sports uniforms are ever white.

I see you trying to keep it together when your teenage daughter tells you she hates you for the first time.

I see you trying to explain to the grandparents why your child is in therapy.

I see you taking away something from your child as a “consequence” even though it makes your life ten times harder.

I see you teaching your teenager to drive. Oh do I see you!

I see you helping your child through a difficult life transition—a death, divorce, illness—when all you want is for someone to take care of you.

I see you walking in proudly to an event with your child who refuses to conform to what is deemed appropriate attire.

I see you buying and returning bras in an endless loop because there is no way your daughter is walking into a store.

I see you learning new pronouns and terms to become an ally.

I see you checking “Find My Phone” when you know your kid is at a party with alcohol and laying wide awake until you know they have safely arrived home.

I see you sending texts to your kids and getting no responses. Wondering why they are just not that into you.

You might not get a diploma or a shiny statue but you are seen. Your work has not been in vain. Just maybe, one day that adult you helped form will be a productive and engaged citizen of the world who just might actually acknowledge that you had something to do with it.

And to those parents who only wish these were their struggles but, instead, deal daily with mental health issues, physical limitations, financial hardships, single parenting, and more, I see you too. Mourning the vision of what you thought parenting would look like is another essay for another day.

I am also well aware that graduating and going immediately to a four-year college is a privilege not afforded or right for all kids. How annoying the bombardment of graduation and college hoopla must be! As a college counselor, I can say with authority, there is no correct path to take. It is not the grades or college that leads to ultimate success. It is the love, belief, consistency and support of a parent that creates successful adults.

You’re doing the work all day, every day and I, along with so many others, see you!

Happy graduation to those with seniors. You have kept them alive for 18 years!