Sometimes a mama will forget things and the world keeps spinning regardless.

Yes, even when a mother has forgotten to iron those khaki pants and button down, who are we kidding here, even if a mother has forgotten to throw those items in the dryer and hit the dewrinkle button (a time or two).....or even if the mother forgot altogether about it being Honor Society day to begin with, and thus never even reached the point of getting the clothes from the closet to the dryer for dewrinkling....you know what that mother found out...the world did not stop rotating on it's axis. Not even for a millisecond.

That was the lesson I learned just a few days ago.  When in fact, Middle Boy was scheduled to be honored for the 2nd year as a member of the Honor Society at his school, and I had recieved the note earlier to confirm the date, time, and Sunday attire that was suggested for the ceremony. Luckily, I remembered the date.  Luckily, I have a good friend who is the school secretary and doesn't mind when I called the school that morning to be certain of the correct time. But I had yet to remember the proper clothing. 

And then upon my arrival to the ceremony, with camera in tow, I looked over to find Middle Boy sitting in the crowd, awaiting his time on stage, and realized to my horror that we had forgotten to dress appropriately for the occassion. 

A pair of jeans, his tennis shoes, and a long sleeve T-shirt.  Oh well. There was no turning back now.   Normally, in years past, I have lovingly picked a "just right" outfit, one where they could walk across the stage to have their ribbon pinned proudly to their chest, and walk off straight to a board room as a little business man ready to take on the world.  Not this time. 

And mind you, it was not just any long sleeve shirt either.  In fact, it was a shirt that I have actually made Middle Boy take off before.  Inevitably, at least once a week, he'll arrive downstairs ready to eat breakfast, brush hair and gather backpacks, and he'll be wearing this shirt.  And at least once a week, I'll look at him and say, "You need to go change your shirt. You know that shirt has stains on the side, and the sleeves are really too short for you, and it's fine to wear here at home to play around in, but find something else to wear for school.  Now scoot, time's a wastin'. "  

However, he LOVES this shirt. Must be the feel of it, I don't really know for sure what the big draw is, but it's something.  So, knowing how much he loves it,  this was in fact the very shirt I carefully chose to take with us last month when he was scheduled for surgery.  I let him wear it with a pair of his favorite warm, snuggie, pajama pants for his hospital visit.  Because you see, I didn't care what the nurses and doctors thought of his clothes, I just wanted him to feel safe, secure, comfortable and at his best for the events of that day. 

But this day, this day where he goes before the school, his peers, the teachers, the parents and grandparents and family members of all the other Honor Society members who've come to see their children march across the stage in their Sunday dress to receive this honor of achieving excellence in their academic acheivements.....this day, he was not supposed to wear that comfy, stained, too short of a long sleeve t-shirt. 

But he did.  And do you know what happened?  He marched proudly across that stage and his honor ribbon of excellence was pinned to his comfy, stained, too short of a long sleeve t-shirt.  He was a part of that ceremony just like everyone else. I took his picture.  And looking through my lens I had a dozen memories of him in that shirt flash before me.  Each one so precious. So very precious.  Time is passing us by whether we partake in the memories or not. 

There was a time in my life (in fact it wasn't very long ago) that I would have almost broken my neck to drive the few miles back home, very quickly, breaking speed limits and various other road laws I'm sure, just to get him a proper change of clothes. But instead, this time around, I sat there and pointed it out to my good friend sitting beside me.  I laughed at myself.  Reminded her more times than she probably cared to hear that... I just couldn't believe I had forgotten about his clothes, I just can't believe of all shirts, he's wearing the one shirt I tell him not to even wear to school.

And I realized, right there in that moment.....

it's not a shirt that makes a man....it's the man that makes the shirt.

And I couldn't be prouder of that little man in that little shirt.