Boastful? A tad

The letter came last week, although I was forewarned. It said something like, "Your daughter is so darn amazing, we're dedicating an entire program to honor her." or it could have said something prosaic like, "9th grade honors night. Be there."

Just a short program, I was certain. Not a lot of people, perhaps. We pulled up 10 minutes after it started and parked behind the senior citizen couple just getting out of their Buick. "Hey Mom and Dad," I called. They couldn't hide the disappointment that I hadn't arrived earlier to save seats. I gave a meaningful look to my teenager. Her hair wasn't behaving so she had to put it up.

In the near blinding darkness of the auditorium, I tripped over 7 people to secure three seats together then asked 5 different people, "Is this seat taken?" finally securing my own seat.

45 minutes and three musical numbers later, we were halfway through the program. I was already on chapter 7 of my riveting book while trying to keep a corner of my attention on the stage. Finally, it was time for honoring two students from every subject. The band teacher stood, apologized he could only choose two students as I focused my camera and he called out - Scott and Emily. Neither Scott nor Emily belonged to me.

Honors English was certain to be the subject she would be gaining fame. Hannah and Rachel. Seriously? Not to make this all about me but I'd actually put on high heels for this. I was not enjoying the smell of someone passing gas very close by or the body odor from the stale, hot auditorium. I wondered if I could sneak out.

One hour, 45 minutes into the program, World History and chapter 11 of my book, my daughter was honored. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. She has straight A's and she loves all of her classes but I just assumed it would be the classes she is constantly discussing with me.

Two and half hours after entering the huge sweat box, we were excused. I was wilted and assaulted by my olfactory senses, my parents had pasted on smiles, and my teenager floated around with her friends.

I'm pretty proud.
Wouldn't you totally die if your mother took a picture of the guy you're crushing on and posted it on the internet?

Who's happy I'm not their mother?

Wow. That's a lot of hands.