Lists. Lists. And More Lists.

Order tables and chairs.  Check.

Organize the basement.  Check.

Prepare the ziti.  Will do on Wednesday.

Chop the spinach for the dip.  Planned for Thursday.

Charge the camera battery and buy new discs for video. Check. Check.

Lists, lists and more lists.   They seem to be the only way for me to keep my mind off the fact that in just a few days, Matthew will march in his cap and gown, Pomp and Circumstance playing in the background, bringing his high school career to an official end.

Without the distraction of planning the graduation party we’re hosting on Saturday, I’d be a puddle of tears.  No matter where I turn, I’m reminded of just how fleeting time is.  This past weekend, our 9 year old daughter Jessica wanted us to take her over to the Little League field so she could cheer on a bunch of her classmates who were playing in the ‘World Series.’   As my husband and sat up in the bleachers, he turned to me and said, “Wasn’t it just yesterday that we were sitting up here cheering for Matt and Ryan?”  Yes, it was.  Cue the tears.

Last week, the high school put on a mandatory program for all seniors called ‘Choices and Consequences’…a production that Kathleen Rice organized years ago in response to prom night madness and the rising number of teenage deaths due to drunk driving, drug abuse and down-right poor decision-making.  There on the screen were families just like mine…just like yours too…happy, loving kids who were raised by nurturing and protective parents. And in an instant, their lives were taken away in car crashes.  Right then and there the little bubble I like to live in burst.  The bubble in which I tell myself, “That could never happen to me,” and “I’ve talked to Matt about the dangers and he knows better,” and “There but for the grace of G-d go I.”   Poof.   Riveted to the screen and to the presenter, you could hear a pin drop in the auditorium. The realization that the dangers our kids are about to face when they enter adulthood and head off to college will only get more intense washed over everyone in the room.  Cue the tears.

Sunday evening, my younger son Ryan rushed into the kitchen to grab two bottles of water. “What’s up kiddo?” I asked.  “Nothing much.  Getting a couple of waters for Matt and me,” he answered.

Me:  Cool.  What are you guys doing up there?

Ryan:  Matt’s playing a game on Xbox and I’m watching him.

Me: You’re just watching?  Not playing?  Doesn’t that get boring?

Ryan:  No.  I like watching him play.  I’ve always liked it since I was a kid.  He’s really good.

Me: I know, but, don’t you want to play too?

Ryan:  Nah.  I’m fine just sitting there with him.  And let’s face it, once he goes off to college, I won’t be able to do that too much anymore.  Love you.  Gotta go.

And he raced back up the stairs to be with his brother.  Cue the tears.

Bake the cookies.  Started, finish on Thursday.

Make a BJs run for supplies.  Planned for Wednesday.

Iron Matt’s dress pants.  Check.

Go over the RSVP list.  Check.

Cook the meatballs.  Saturday morning.

Yeah, I think I’ll just keep myself busy with my lists.