The Rage of the Mommy Machine

My child graduated high school recently. I sniffed back the tears as I sat in the nosebleed section of the football stadium but not because of any sad, little mommy feelings about my baby chick leaving the nest.  No, the tears were from the pain of contorting myself into the Kung Fu Bat position as I tried to get  get a decent picture of her without falling over the railing. 

Even though everyone was asked not to yell, we could barely hear her name because she has the misfortune to be alphabetically behind the star quarterback.  Yelling, “Shut the hell up! Football season is over until next year and he’s not playing for us anymore, you idiots!” won’t work, by the way.   This doesn’t mean you can’t do it, but please don’t think it’s going to win you any fans.  Like I cared, she’s an only child, I wasn’t going back to that school, so of course I said it, to my husband’s everlasting horror.

My ex-husband, who hasn’t sent my daughter(and I suppose his too) a Christmas or birthday present for past six years shows up at her graduation expecting her to welcome him with open arms.   It is nice to know that some things don’t change. Like his IQ remaining in the low double digits for one and his weight staying at a steady three hundred for another.  Too bad he couldn’t switch the two around.  

After twenty minutes, exactly the time it took for her to get her diploma, he waddled out of the stadium as fast as he could, apparently unable to take the heat of the Southern night, or the combined glares of me and my legion of relatives.  I hoped he’d pass out, but only after clearing the gates, because I wasn’t sure if I could actually climb over Mt. Deadbeat Dad to reach my car.   He was sweating something awful, though,  bless his big fat heart  *see below  

After he left, my child stared at the huge empty space left by her fathead father and just.. shrugged.  Then she turned and stared up at her dearly beloved stepdaddy who has been there for her through thick and thin, instead. And for this night thick and thin meant sitting through an hour and a half of sweat, mosquitos and about two hundred names he could care less about with a look of love, patience and utter bliss on his face.  Aww! Well that makes up for my grouchy face, at least.

So when she smiled and waved, mouthing the words, I love you!  my rage at her fruity father was somewhat quelled until I figured out she was  talking to her silly boyfriend who happened to be sitting to my husband’s right.  Of course, he sceamed like a demon and waved back.  I began to plot their demise, which distracted me until the end of the graduation program. Thank God.

Now that graduation is over, I have something else to look forward to since she thankfully takes after her mother in looks and brains because she’s starting college this fall.    I’ll be living in the poorhouse for many years to come, thanks to my smart little girl.  I’m more than happy to pay the bill for my daughter’s fortunate genetic inheritence, however don’t think I won’t be clamoring about that.

But I’ll wait til next time!

*Southerners say this but mean:   die you mangy cur!