My child graduated from high school last week.  I suppose this means I've officially graduated into adulthood. Which is bizarre since I still feel like a kid myself. Perhaps I will finally start feeling like a grown up right around the time I'm eligible for senior discounts. 

I don't really remember much from my own graduation. I skipped the commencement services because I thought they'd be boring and instead focused my attentions on the grad banquet and dance. I remember regretting that decision at the time and wishing I'd picked up my diploma and skipped the dance. There wasn't much dancing at the dance and I spent most of the night feeling stupid as I tottered around in heels I didn't know how to wear.

Note the smushed hair style from having a nap after getting hair done. Note how I wouldn't let him touch me. Note the fact my mother let me CHOOSE that fabric colour. I must have been blind.

My grad night consisted of me trying to avoid and run from my escort (also currently referred to as my husband), and marveling over how tiny a Cornish game hen is. (Seriously! Tiny! It didn't help they served it with four baby carrots and two baby potatoes. I figure they must have decided starving the graduates was an effective cost savings measure.)

The only time in the evening I had any fun was when I left the dance with my best friend and Bruce and went to McDonalds in our grad finery. Nothing tastes better than eating a rubbery Big Mac while dripping special sauce on the grad gown your mother lovingly made for you. 

There may have also been a hot tub involved, but that's a story for another day. 

Ken's grad did not involve any tiny Cornish game hens, a McDonalds or a hot tub. 

It did involve a hand made gown lovingly sewn by her grandmother. It also involved her singing O'Canada at the commencement services and giving the 'Toast to the Parents' speech at the banquet. 

Her grad involved ruby red stripper heels, a best friend escort wearing a tux inspired from the movie 'Dumb and Dumber' and a boyfriend who she never ran from once. 

Her grad involved getting her very first manicure. Buying her very first pair of hosiery. Having her very first eyebrow waxing. Which was then quickly followed by her mother running through a liquor store asking for a big bottle of gin because she 'accidentally skinned her daughter's eyelids and needs to forget the horror.'

Note to the mothers of future graduates: Don't take your fair haired, sensitive skinned daughter for her first waxing three days prior to a big event. You may end up having to invest in stocks of Polysporin and Aloe Vera while praying to the Gods of Everything Good and Holy that the skin ripped off your daughter's eyebrows grows back before the big day. 

Luckily, it healed enough so the scabs could be covered with makeup. PRAISE THE POWER OF POLYSPORIN!

Her grad also saw her mother totter up the stage in heels she still has never grown accustomed to wearing to give a speech about aiming high and living boldly while trying to hold back the sea of tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks at any moment.

I don't remember much of my graduation but I know I'll never forget any of hers. 

Congratulations Ken. We love you to the moon and back. Whether you have eyelids or not.

Proof you can dress them up, but you can't take them out.

Congratulations to the graduates of 2014, everywhere. May life take you places you haven't yet dared dream exist.