Reality intervenes for sentimental mom Lori Clinch Are We There Yet? Parenting has its ups and downs, and I often handle it like a yo-yo as I move from one emotion to another. I have found myself in the middle of a parental moment that I wish would never end. There have been times when I hang on to every minute, try to memorize every word and lock every memory away in hopes that I'll never forget so much as one thing that my precious children have done. Sadly enough, it's the next minute that I wish the kids were grown. I often wonder what it would be like to never again have to suffer public humiliation at the hands of a group of boys who know how to dish it out. I long to be part of a couple who travels freely, the woman who has time for a pedicure, and the parent who can walk into a room without being hit up for a five-spot. On many occasions, these moments of stepping on the parental brakes of time and then hitting the gas will occur back-to-back. Take our famous baseball game moment for example. As I sat in the stands amidst my older three boys, I couldn't help but feel proud. We were having one of those family bonding times where we were all visiting and laughing and enjoying being together as we watched Little Charlie, the youngest of the Clinch clan, go up to bat. As they watched him struggle, our older boys made comments to each other. "Look at Little Charlie. He's holding his bat all wrong." "I know, he's holding it like it's the torch and he's the Statue of Liberty." "Why didn't he try to hit that pitch? That was a good pitch!" "Yeah," another shouted in his brother's direction, "Swing it, Sally!" Just about then the hands of time came to a screeching halt. The wind stopped blowing, the noise in the ballpark settled down and the world slowed to a crawl, and it seemed as if the very forces of nature and all of mankind were focused on my youngest son. With his bat held high and his body twisted into a contortion that was not meant to be swinging, Little Charlie turned to look at his older brothers. Right there from home plate, in front of the large and vast crowd whose eyes were all upon him and only him, Little Charlie shouted back at his sibling, "Shut up, you b*******!" Now, that was a Wishing the Time Would Pass moment if ever there was one. I went from hanging on to every word my children uttered and wishing that I could hold on to them forever, to longing for them all to grow up so that I could attend public affairs without humiliation. At that moment, I would have cashed in their childhoods and traded them all in for a pack of full-fledged and productive adults. I've been yo-yoing back and forth between moods like that a lot lately. I suppose it's natural when one's oldest child graduates from high school and prepares to leave the nest. A mother such as myself is prone to wanting to slow down time and enjoy the moments that won't last at one minute, and be brought back to reality the next. I cried like a baby as I ironed Vernon's graduation gown. I thought of all the things that I'd pressed with care throughout his 18 years. I remembered so easily his little baptism ensemble, his First Communion attire, and (what seemed like just yesterday) his sixth-grade graduation shirt and tie. I choked back tears when Vernon marched in the processional, stood tall with his class and listened intently as his class president joked about how Vernon Clinch's mother had done most of Vernon's homework for the past six years. Watching Vernon move his tassel from the right side of his cap to the left, I turned on the video camera in my mind and hoped that I would never forget the moment. I wished that time would stand still - that these days wouldn't pass so fast and that it would take forever for our other children to grow up. Just then, young Huey, Lord love him, gave his brother, Lawrence, a Wet Willy. As the congregation looked on, Lawrence quickly turned and slugged Huey in the gut and whispered loudly that he thought Huey was an idiot, then seeing the fire in my eyes, took my hand and said, "I love you, Mom." I'm a yo-yo all right. Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book "Are We There Yet?" You can reach her at www.loriclinch.com.