It Just Hit Me: I'm the Mom of a High School Senior

The other day, I realized—in a smack-you-upside-the-head kind of way—that my oldest child’s senior year doesn’t begin when she starts her last year of secondary education.

It began when she walked out of school on the last day of her junior year.

 

So that happened. And now the reality and enormity of this whole thing keeps hitting me when I least expect it, at moments like these…

1. I figured out on the last day of school that it was my daughters’ last last day together. How did I miss making A Big Deal about this? Next year, my oldest will have her last day early and on her own. I’ll still play “What Time Is It” from High School Musical 2 when they get home from school, but next year, I’ll have to play it twice. On different days.

2. All those “senior parent” notices flashing on the screen outside the high school? The ones I’ve been ignoring for 12 years? Now I have to pay attention to EVERY SINGLE ONE. 

3. I got weepy reading the instructions on some OTC cold medicine I was giving my teenager because I saw the “adult” dosage listed and realized I’ll soon have an “adult” to give it to.

4. I did not merely attend high school graduation parties this season. I scoped out buffet options and assessed traffic flow patterns and said things like, “Nice party…say, where’d you get all these tables and chairs?”

5. Digital cameras came out after this child was born. Where, exactly, are all those negatives of her as a baby? And does anyone even develop negatives anymore? Can we skip the poster board photo display and just have more dessert?

6. Everything we’ve been waiting to do around here until our firstborn’s high school graduation party suddenly needs to be done. Right. This. Minute.

7. The moment at the band concert and dance recital and graduation Sunday in church when all the seniors were recognized? Cannot even think about next year. (Note to self: start carrying tissues everywhere.)

8. A few blinks ago, I was triumphantly hauling my 7-pound, 5-day-old baby into the pediatrician’s office for her first well-baby check. Next month, I’ll go with that baby to her last well-child check. (See “tissues,” above.)

9. Cap-and-gown-themed party supplies on clearance? Let me get a cart.

10. Links I’ve saved recently : “What You Need To Know About the 2017–18 FAFSA”; “6 Smart Ideas for Parenting Your High School Senior”; and “7 Things To Make Sure You Do During Your Child’s Senior Year.”

On top of all these hit-me moments, I’m holding on to everything we do that might be a last: last week at the lake; last church camp; last teeth-cleaning with pediatric dental coverage.

But I’m also getting ready for so many firsts. The year ahead—the year that has started NOW—is much more a beginning than it is an ending. I’m grateful for it and excited about it.

I'm still stocking up on Kleenex, though.

Have you had your own "a long time from now is right this minute" moment? 

I'd love to have you share it in a comment or over on Facebook. 

Also, here's a tissue.

**This post may have been shared at some of these blog bashes.**

S'mores Granola Bark

I was in the middle of trying to come up with a witty or motivational or inspiring story to introduce this post when it hit me: you don't care about a story because you JUST WANT THE RECIPE ALREADY. 

Entirely understandable. So here it is. 

In our house, we consider this a healthy snack, because we take a very broad approach to "healthy" and a very frequent approach to "snack." 

This recipe began life as Trail Mix Granola Bark; here, I've given it the s'mores treatment with the addition of marshmallows and graham crackers. I managed to stop eating my last batch long enough to put together this post, but just barely. 

S'mores Granola Bark {printable recipe}

1/2 cup mini semisweet chocolate chips

1/2 cup M&Ms (I used the plain milk chocolate version in red, white, and blue)

1 cup marshmallow bits (such as vanilla Jet-Puffed Mallow Bits)*

3 cups rolled ("old-fashioned") oats

1 cup graham cracker pieces and crumbs (equivalent or close enough to it to one "sleeve" of crackers...I like a mix of fine crumbs and larger cracker pieces, and you can really just smoosh them with your hands while they're still in the package and they'll be fine)

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 cup canola oil

1 egg white

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/4 cup pure maple syrup

1/2 cup brown sugar

4 tablespoons water, divided

*I know! Specialty ingredients are such a pain. But I promise these are easy to find, aren't too expensive, and are necessary to this recipe. I also promise it's worth the hassle of rounding them up. Regular mini marshmallows won't work here because of the long baking time...they'll just melt and basically disappear. Better get the bits.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Line a 10x15-inch baking sheet with parchment paper (or foil that you spray like crazy with nonstick cooking spray) so it hangs over the edges. Mix the chocolate chips, M&Ms, and marshmallow bits in a small bowl or 2-cup glass measure and put them in the freezer. Mix the oats and graham cracker pieces/crumbs in a large bowl. 

In a small measuring cup, whisk 3 tablespoons water, the vanilla, the oil, and the egg white.

In a microwave-safe 2-cup measure, mix the salt, maple syrup (which will slide right out of the measuring cup if you use the same one you did to measure the oil...aren't we clever?), brown sugar, and 1 tablespoon water. Microwave for 30 seconds and stir. Microwave for another 30 seconds, or until the sugar has dissolved. Don't walk away and get sucked into checking Facebook because sugar syrup boiling over in your microwave is not something you want to see. 

Drizzle the oil mixture over the oat mixture and toss to combine. Drizzle the syrup mixture over the oats mixture, and toss to mix well. Set aside to cool for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. 

Sprinkle about 2/3 of your frozen chocolate-chip/M&M/marshmallow mixture over the oats and toss gently to distribute. Dump the whole mixture into your pan and spread and press evenly. If one part is a little thicker than another, make sure it's the edges. Sprinkle your remaining chocolate/candy mixture evenly over the surface and press gently. 

Bake for 30-45 minutes, rotating the pan halfway through. You want your bark to be golden brown in the center or it won't be crunchy. Cool on a wire rack before breaking into irregular pieces and storing airtight. It'll keep about a week. I mean, theoretically. In our house, it gets scarfed down in a couple days, and it only lasts that long if I ration it. (Recipe adapted from Best Lunch Box Ever by Katie Morford.)

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10 Things Moms of Teens Will Love You For Not Saying

In a few weeks, my youngest child will turn 13. 

Which means I will officially be the mom of teenagers and only teenagers.

On the one hand, this will be handy: no more “mom of one tween and one teen” hassle. 

On the other hand, this development still feels mildly stunning. Or majorly stunning, depending on the morning and the hormonal (im)balance of the cast of characters in this drama we call “Life In Our House.”

While I’m processing all this, I keep running across posts like “10 Things Never to Say to the Mom of a Newborn” and “What Not to Say to a New Parent.” But a Google search of “what not to say to the parent of a teenager” only brought up results on what not to say to a teen parent.

I’m grateful for the “what not say” pieces in support of new parents. I've culled “how’s it going?” from my stash of go-to phrases, having been counseled that New Mom has no idea how it’s going, only that it would be going a lot better if she was getting any sleep. 

But on behalf of my fellow parents of teenagers, I think there are a few classic lines about this end of the parenting spectrum that could stand to be retired or replaced.

If you're the parent of a teenager or know the parent of a teenager or think you might ever find yourself in conversation with the parent of a teenager, head over to Grown and Flown for a list of questions and phrases that could probably use a little rest. 

(And for the record, if you asked me how being the mom of a teen is going, I'd probably tell you that I think it's going pretty well but that I'm sure it would be going even better if I were getting more sleep.)

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