I sit here with a yellow paper on my desk titled “Parent Brag Sheet.”  Normally, I’m all over, and all about, bragging on my kiddos.  I wrote an introductory letter for Lucas last year that I turned into a blog.  I love bragging on my kids, as is evidenced in my blog.  I’m rarely short of material to use to brag, brag and brag some more.  But the yellow brag sheet sitting on my desk is vastly different.  

The yellow brag sheet is for Zach.  It’s what he needs to turn into the counseling office.  This brag sheet will then be used by them to write letters of recommendation to universities.  

Here’s where my fear comes in…

What if I mess up?  What if what I write is not what universities are looking for?  What if my words are the ones that screw up Zach’s chances of getting into the university of his choice?  

The questions, when looked at objectively, look so simple.  But when I sat down to actually answer them, I drew a complete blank on every single one. 

1. What do you consider to be your child’s most outstanding accomplishment(s) over the last four years?  Why did you select this (these) as the most important?
2. In what areas has your child shown the most development and growth during the past few years?
3. What do you consider to be your child’s most outstanding personality traits?
4. Are there any unusual or personal circumstances that have affected your child’s educational or personal experiences?
5. What three words would you use to describe your child and why?    

I know all of the answers.  I live the answers every day with Zach.  But it’s never been vitally important for me to get the answers right. 

1. OK, still a complete and total blank…
2. Uh….he’s matured?
3. He’s fabulous…
4. OH, this one I’ve TOTALLY nailed…Jan, our fabulous exchange student, enlarged Zach’s world.  I know, I know…I’ve got some polishing to do.
5. I’ve got this one too…Intelligent. Compassionate. Humble. I think I’m gonna have to expand on this a little!

I’ve never been so nervous for an assignment.  Any project I had in school pales in comparison to this one.  Zach came to me last night and said, “Mom, I need you to get this done by the end of next week, at the latest.”  

I got it, Zach.  I’ll get it done.  I know I can do it.  I’m just nervous beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.  

Zach’s next words made me smile, “I know  you’ll get it done, Mom, and I know it’ll be awesome.  You’re a ‘dope’ writer.  It’s gonna be great.  And THANKS!”

OK, deep breaths.  Zach believes in me.  I know I can do this.  But I’m still quaking in my boots.

Oh, for the love of my children….