Good-bye Class of 2008

Greg is leaving tomorrow. Auburn University.

Jordan is heading out the 20th. A junior college.

Julie, the girl with the flaxen hair and graceful dance-team moves is going soon. Auburn.

Cole goes the 15th or 16th. Cole, who once put a post-it note saying "Peace Ms. E" on my kitchen cabinet that stayed there for a year is University of Alabama bound.

And Jack, my one and only, will be moving out Aug. 16th.

Just when I thought I couldn't stand another year of high school -- a year of truly high-school behavior -- I dread the good-byes of the coming weeks. There won't be good-byes for the friends' moms. The gang will just be gone.

Maybe I'll text them using my secret cell phone list accumlated during many a night of worrying where my son was long after curfew. I texted Zack when he took off in June bound for the United States Marine Corps. He got it at the party in his honor and told Jack to tell me thanks.

With cunning, technology and prayer, we parents have managed to get these kids through high school. With money, trust and prayer, they will get through college.

It's the greatest time of your life. My son's not really buying that. He thought high school was supposed to be the greatest time and it didn't always turn out that way. So Jack is sweet, then surly, gone for days then a home-body. He can't sleep and he can't wake up before noon. If he can make it through his first week at college, then he'll make it. I tell him about being scared, about being in labor and knowing there was no stopping it.

We have written a contract with Jack as he heads to college. A fellow by the name of John Honeycutt has a College Contract site where you can purchase a template for a few dollars and modify it to suit your situation. The gist of it is: We pay, you stay (and succeed); you don't succeed and we, we, ... we are supposed to say you're on your own at this point, but it's hard to do that.

Actually, the contract is great to use with talking points and all. It also cuts to the chase. For example -- an extreme example -- parents will not pay for abortions.

More typical, the contract outlines the care of mind, body and possessions during the college years. In our case, you must take at least 12 hours per semester, call Dr. Davis when you are sick and don't run the car into the ground with an engine light on.

We have relived out roommate stories, our dorm life stories, our working-while-in-college stories. We've discussed the Freshman 15 (pounds that is). The pros and cons of Greek life (meaning my husband is pro and I am con.) My 80-year-old Mom has even resurrected tales of those silly girls in her dorm who kept her up at night. My 82-year-old Dad remembered that he cared for an invalid gentleman in order to eat.

My entire family is in a protracted labor and trying to birth this baby boy, freshly turned 18, to a university. With joy. With tears.

"Nurse, I could use something for the pain."