My Husband Graduated: Let’s Make Some Noise

My husband graduated this weekend. That fact alone is blogworthy. Over the past two years, he managed to plug through one grad class at a time while balancing a waaaay more than full time work schedule which already fills up his days, nights and weekends. I’m not sure how he did it, but he did. My husband rocked it and is now the proud owner of an MBA diploma.

So, when it came time for his graduation ceremony, we rolled out the red carpet for him. His mother flew down, my brother and his family drove over, we planned a party and I bought excessive amounts of ribs and beer. It was time to party like it was 1999 2009.

And with the best intentions, the entire family marched all three kids (ages five, two and two) into the University’s auditorium for graduation on Saturday. Yes, with the best intentions we climbed up the stairs of the stadium seating and managed to find seven seats at the very top, far from any sort of “easy out” exit, and right next to rows and rows of esteemed faculty, gowned and seated immediately to our right. Faculty who actually wanted to hear every word said during the ceremony.

Three boys, my boys and their third amigo/cousin, were lined up on their fold out chairs. Hair slicked down, button down shirts smoothed into place, khaki shorts snapped up and sneakered shoes sticking straight out in front of them in their seats. Eyes wide and halos in check, there was no way they could cause any fuss on such an important day. Right? No way. Not our boys.

Cue the pomp and circumstance. I don’t think it took much more than the first few graduates to stride proudly into the auditorium for the chaos to begin.

Whining. Loud declarations of: “I hungee. I wanna food.” One dropped to the ground and started crawling under legs.  They scrambled over our laps.  They squirmed. “He’s pulling me! He hit me!” We passed them back and forth. We tried iphone downloads of Little Einsteins. We played “I spy”. No matter. They kicked backs of seats. They threw crackers. They ripped at the programs. They slammed the squeaky seats up and down and up and down. They climbed. They dug through purses. Game on. And it was on like Donkey Kong.

Can I stop here and blame myself? It’s about time for a little mommy guilt anyway. I had the gall to bring three young boys to a two hour graduation ceremony and expect them to be still after having packed only a mere sleeve of crackers. What. Was I. Thinking!?!? Ok ok, cut me some slack though, I was very distracted this weekend. But for real. I got what I had coming to me. I should have been much better prepared with crayons, paper, toys, magna doodles, and endless unhealthy snacks. One lowly sleeve of dry crackers? Cha right. Nice try.

Oh and did I mention that my husband also happened to be a commencement speaker? So as expected, it was during his introduction that the actual screaming started. Should I escape loudly down all those steps and across the auditorium with the kids to spare those around us? Should I gag them with every disintegrated cracker at the bottom of my purse? Should I sit on them and just hope my cute flowy spring wrap dress muffles their yelps a bit? My husband did an amazing job. Or at least it looked like he did. I never heard a word of it.

By that point, most of those sitting around us had fled for other, further, more peaceful seating options. But the esteemed faculty to our right? They were stuck. In their pizza box shaped hats and colorful regalia, they never heard a word of that ceremony. My apologies to all the smart-looking faculty folk. But I can guarantee that they did in fact hear: “Is it over? When’s it over? Is it done yet? Is it over? Is it over? All done? Is it over? Is it over? Now mommy? Now mommy? Now mommy? Now? Now? How bout NOW?

At one point I’m pretty sure I made a 15 year old boy’s day. While one two year old ran behind me and I “gracefully” leapt/charged over my fold up seat to catch him, I am quite positive that my flowy wrap dress hitched way up. That 15 year old kid saw my Hanes her Way. I am sure of it. His eyes got kinda buggy and his acned cheeks flushed. I consider it payment for the chaos he endured. There ya go kid. Hope you enjoyed the show. But he eventually fled the scene too. Promises of further glimpses of my Hanes her Way were simply not enough.

While the graduates walked up to the stage, the crowd finally joined in with the hooting and hollering. And as our kids ran rough shot over the seats in our section of the stadium, my brother and I leaned back and got to laughing. We dreamt of tequila shots and threatened to moon the graduates. If you can’t beat them, you know? I give up.

But that is what these sorts of events are really about. While the University President reminded the graduates of all the support their families gave them during their studies, my husband beamed up at us. From where he sat, he loved the craziness he was witnessing. He was proud his family was there to, er, “represent” in their own special way. At these sorts of events, it’s family that makes an achievement like this so worth while.

So as he walked across the stage, his family yelled out. When his name was called, he heard us loud and clear. My husband graduated and he knew, throughout the ceremony, that his family was joyfully, playfully, loudly and entirely there for him.

Congrats huz-o-mine, you rock my world.