Sadness is reflecting back on that one thing and realizing it was the last time you’d ever do it. Like the last time you ever carry around your child. You don’t realize it in the moment, but then, when you think about it, it hits you. You realize that you’ll never do that again.

On the way home from dropping the kids off at school earlier in the week, I realized it was actually the last time dropping them both off at the same school. As it was happening, I didn’t really realize it.  But this era of my kids being in the same school is over and will never happen again. This upcoming year, they’ll go to separate schools. The year Jersey graduates in eighth grade, Madden graduates from high school. (My heart hurts just thinking about it.)

So, this calendar year has a lot of lasts and firsts for my kids, which is incredibly exciting – and as emotional as one might expect.

This change of schools means Madden is moving on to something bigger. At the same time, it takes him one step closer to going off to college and leaving home.

This week was emotional.

Eighth-grade graduation was beautiful, but the extent of the emotions I felt surprised me a bit. I mean, it’s just eighth grade, right? I tried to sit with these emotions and understand why my eyes would well up with tears even just while driving my car around the city as I thought about Madden graduating from eighth grade. 

The emotions seem to have a lot to do with the level of appreciation I have for that school. As a white person, Madden was very much a minority there. And that’s one of the many reasons we loved that school for him. We want our kids to have a sense of appreciation for the city – and the world’s – diversity. We want our kids to see that the world is made up of many ethnicities and backgrounds. Being the minority, Madden never had any issues at that school either. Everyone respected him just as much as he respected them. I think that’s really special and significant – and we are so grateful for this school making him comfortable amid true diversity. 

Overall, I’m so proud of what he’s become because of those years at that school.

I wrote him a card to mark the occasion of his graduation. I write these cards and letters to my kids, knowing—or at least hoping—that they’ll really appreciate the significance of these moments at some point in the future, maybe 20 years down the road, or whenever they dig them out to look at them again. 

“Just yesterday, I was dropping you off on your first day of school. You were scared. You could barely read. You got frustrated quickly. But you never steered away from what was hard. You kept showing up with optimism and courage. You still do. This school helped mold you into the human that you are. You navigated hard things like being the new kid in first grade… I’m proud of how conscientious you are as a student, although I know you’d rather not even go to school and would rather just play sports. You show up, and you care. Because you’re a champion, and champions do hard things. Congratulations, and thank you for taking my two rules to heart. You are kind. And you’re such an amazing leader.”

As part of being the best mom I can be, I’ve always aimed to raise children who are kind leaders. They don’t need to be anything else. That’s really all they need to make their own difference in the world. Since they were little, I have instilled two rules in our house. Most days, when I drop the kids off at school, I remind them, “Be Kind. And Be a Leader.”

Early on, John and I also decided we would never force a sport or career idea on our kids. We would allow them to see their own opportunities and allow them to gravitate to what moves them. We’ve also taught them that they can be or do ANYTHING they want to in life when they work hard, committing time and energy to their goals. I have never been afraid to fail in pursuit of my passion. And I believe that seeing my own relentless pursuit, even in the face of failures, empowers our kids to believe in going after their own dreams.

For Madden, baseball has become what he lives for. He wants to become a professional baseball player. And he’s not afraid to actually say that.

The night after his eighth-grade graduation, he was already invited to play a game with his new high school’s summer team. When we went there, we had no idea what to expect. But he was able to play the first three innings, and he made four really good plays. It turned out to be a great demonstration of his abilities. When I am not bowling or coaching, I spend a lot of time at Madden’s baseball games, which always makes me so proud.

Afterward, I introduced myself to the coach and thanked him for letting Madden play with them. He expressed his interest in Madden definitely playing for him and offered tips about what Madden can do this summer to prepare, like workouts for his arm.

The first time I ever got really emotional as a mom was when we discovered I was having a boy. When we first saw Madden on the ultrasound.

Everyone told me I was meant to be a “boy’s mom.” Growing up, I was more of a tomboy—sporty and high-energy—rather than playing with dolls. And when I first saw him on the screen, months before he even entered this world, I could already feel how amazing the experience was going to be.

Now, in what almost seems like the blink of an eye, I have a 13-year-old boy about to enter high school. And my emotions—and everything I feel about being a mom to this amazing human—are as strong as ever.

My emotions are similar to those of that first ultrasound: excited, grateful, and ready for what’s next.