08/17/2026
I swear I blinked. ❤️
First grade ➡️ 12th grade.
Same backpack photos. Same smile. Same mom trying to hold onto the moment.
Except somehow, the little boy who once needed me to walk him to his classroom is now starting his senior year.
And this one hits differently.
Hudson is my last child. He is also my miracle man. My rainbow baby.
My last first day of senior year.
My last year of high school volunteer, school calendars, permission slips, games, dances, and all the ordinary little things I probably didn’t realize I would someday miss.
For the last 25 years, my life has been measured in school years.
First days. Last days. Backpacks. Lunches. Homework. Practices. Graduations.
And now I’m standing on the edge of something I’m not quite sure I’m ready for…
An empty nest. 🥹
As parents, we spend years preparing our children to become independent, confident adults who are ready to go build lives of their own.
And then they actually do it.
Which is incredibly exciting… and just a tiny bit rude. 😂
I’m so proud of the young man he has become, and I can’t wait to see where life takes him.
But this year, I’m going to try a little harder to slow down.
To take the pictures.
To show up for the little things.
To embarrass him occasionally because that is still my job.
And to appreciate every “last” without being so focused on what comes next that I miss what’s happening right now.
Because I know how this works now.
You blink.
And the little boy standing beside you with his first-grade backpack is suddenly a senior standing beside you on his way out into the world.
Senior year. Here we go. ❤️
I’m not ready.
But I am ridiculously proud.
