Because He Could

Monday was Monday.

It happened.

I'm sure I did things.

Nothing particularly memorable comes to mind.

Then, around three o'clock in the afternoon, we got an email from the school.

David's Junior Beta Club induction ceremony was Tuesday.

At one.

Well.

Good thing we had plenty of notice.

I spent some time looking at my calendar.

Hemmed.

Hawed.

Tried to figure out how long an induction ceremony actually takes when nobody tells you how long the induction ceremony actually takes.

Eventually, I decided there wasn't much point trying to squeeze something important into whatever opening my workday happened to allow.

So I took the half day.

I finished my morning, changed clothes, and Kati, Zoey, Asher, and I headed to the school.

And I'm really glad I did.

There was something strangely fun about walking through the school while it was alive.

Classes happening.

Kids moving through hallways.

Older students eating lunch.

Then we made our way into the gym and found our seats.

Asher did phenomenally.

Probably the best I've ever seen him do in that kind of public setting.

He sat.

He listened.

He handled himself incredibly well.

And I was proud of him.

Then there was Zoey.

She went to this school last year, so as we walked through the building, people kept recognizing her.

"Zoey!"

Someone else.

"Zoey!"

A hug.

Another hello.

Another hug.

She was shy about it.

But she was glowing.

You could see how happy she was to be remembered.

How happy she was to still belong to this place in some small way.

And I was proud of her.

Then the ceremony started.

They inducted the Beta Club officers.

They recognized the new Beta Club members.

Then they reached the Junior Beta Club.

And they called David's name.

My face hurt from smiling.

Because here's the thing.

He did this.

We didn't push him into it.

I've never told my kids they need straight As.

I've told them they need to learn. They need to put in the work. They need to keep their grades where they need to be so they can keep moving forward.

David decided that wasn't enough for him.

Last year, he pushed himself onto the A/B Honor Roll.

This year?

A Honor Roll.

Not because Mom and Dad demanded it.

Not because there's some prize waiting for him.

Not because he's afraid of what happens if he doesn't.

He saw something he wanted.

He saw something he was capable of.

And he went after it.

Because he wanted to.

Because he could.

And yesterday I got to sit in a gymnasium and watch someone recognize him for it.

I was so damn proud of that kid.

Jacob couldn't be there because he was in class.

But when we got home, we told him about it.

And he started asking questions.

What does it take?

How do you get into something like that?

That made me smile too.

Jacob is doing really well himself.

Spelling is still our mountain.

So we'll keep climbing it.

Everything else is going well, and he's working.

He knows he can do it.

I know he can do it.

We'll get there.

And I was proud of him too.

Four kids.

Four completely different little victories.

David stood when his name was called.

Zoey discovered that people remembered her.

Asher showed us just how well he could handle himself.

Jacob saw his brother accomplish something and wanted to know how.

Those moments don't come with the same certificates.

But I'm not sure that makes them any less important.

Then, because apparently we don't know how to simply enjoy a moment and relax afterward, we came home and started packing for camping.

Everything came out.

Everything got checked.

Everything got packed.

And somehow, minus tomorrow's grocery run, my truck is already loaded.

We might actually pull this off.

Thursday at noon, I'm done with work.

We'll finish the last-minute shopping, get the kids home from school, let them dump their school stuff, turn around, and head for the campsite.

Then we'll attempt to get tents standing before darkness wins.

It is going to be an adventure.

There's one more finish line happening this week too.

My final papers came back.

A on both.

At this point, it's mathematically impossible for me not to finish both classes with As.

I have two final grades still coming, but the work is submitted.

These classes are done.

Next week, I begin my bachelor's capstone.

One class.

Just one.

For the next two months.

After the pace I've kept for the last year, I'm not entirely sure I'm going to know what to do with myself.

I've already looked ahead at what the capstone is asking of me.

I'm intrigued.

But that's a problem for Michael of next week.

Michael of today has work to finish.

Michael of tomorrow has a campsite to build.

For now, though, I'm still sitting with yesterday.

Because sometimes you spend so much time parenting in the weeds that you don't notice how far your kids have come.

Homework.

Grades.

Bedtimes.

Spelling words.

Clean your room.

Put that away.

Stop touching your brother.

Get your shoes.

We're going to be late.

Did you brush your teeth?

Actually brush your teeth.

Then every once in a while, somebody calls your kid's name in a gymnasium.

He stands.

And for a second, you get to stop managing everything.

You just get to watch.

And smile.

And be proud.

Yesterday, I got to do that four different ways.

That's a pretty damn good Tuesday.

I went to school yesterday because my son was being inducted into Junior Beta Club. I expected to be proud of David, and I absolutely was. What I didn't expect was to spend the afternoon noticing all four of my kids. David stood because he'd earned something entirely through his own effort. Zoey lit up every time someone remembered her. Asher showed me how much he's grown in situations that haven't always been easy for him. And Jacob heard about his brother's accomplishment and immediately started wondering what he could do to get there himself. Sometimes the milestones are certificates and ceremonies. Sometimes they're hugs in a hallway, sitting quietly in a gym, or simply asking, "How do I do that?" If you're paying attention, they're all worth celebrating.

Much love.

Stay safe.

Wash your damn hands.

And I will see you, next time.