You Can't go Back...or Can You?

Robby and I at the Homecoming football game at half-time

I recently found out that you can live vicariously through your children. I came home from work one day to my son Robby, a senior at Charlevoix High School, calling me up to his room because he needed to tell me something. Actually he needed to tell me three things. I have no idea what the first two things were because the third thing sent me skyward. He was on homecoming court. I jumped up and down and babbled a bunch of nonsense with a few “Oh my gosh’s!” thrown in. I bolted downstairs trying to figure out if I was going to text everyone I knew, call my mom, or post it on facebook as he sat there dumbfounded. My son obviously was not as excited to be thrust into the limelight as I was for him to be. My high school dream of being nominated for homecoming was being realized by my own flesh and blood. Back in high school I literally had more than 8 chances to be nominated and never once was my be-nice-to-everyone way of life rewarded with that one announcement that just about every girl waits with baited breath for “and the nominees for homecoming queen of 1986 are…” When I say I had numerous chances it’s because my high school did things a little differently. Each grade elected a king and queen for both football and basketball seasons. And that really wasn’t all. There was also a school-wide king and queen who were seniors and got elected during basketball season. And if you didn’t manage to get on any of those courts (or even if you did), there was always “King and Queen of The Ledge.” That’s right; Grand Ledge’s own yearbook royalty. Back in the 80’s the homecoming nominations were much more of a popularity contest than they are now. You had to be popular. Not just friends with a lot of people; friends with a lot of popular people. You had to be the envy of roughly 90% of your class and although I was nice to everyone, I was not popular in the “getting nominated for homecoming queen” sense of the word. I am happy to see that things have changed. The nice kids do get nominated right along-side the popular crowd. Oh that’s not to say that our homecoming court didn’t consist of nice people, many of my dearest friends held those coveted seats on the Kleenex flowered floats, waving at their adoring fans. I have come to terms with my past but it doesn’t mean I couldn’t share in the excitement of having a son on his senior class court. I may not get to buy a beautiful Cinderella dress with matching satin shoes, but I was be the proudest mom screaming from the stands in my jeans and sweatshirt as my husband took picture after picture and feeling just as elated as if I were out on the field myself. I guess that with the help of your kids, maybe you can go back.

Published October, 2011