My friend is bracing herself for the impending graduation of her oldest child. One day her little girl was skipping down the sidewalk and the next she'll be walking across the stage to receive her diploma. Hopefully she won't skip.

My friend is filled with sadness and joy, dread and anticipation, all at once. She's as anxious as she is excited, and it isn't even HER diploma that might be unsigned.

All parents have a mix of hopes and fears, faith and doubts concerning their children. We believe we're raising them to be responsible, resourceful adults, but we can't help but worry they may go astray. We know how we turned out, after all.

And, while we always want to be a big part of our children's lives, we want them to cut the apron strings, for their sakes—and ours.

My son isn't too many years past the skipping stage, so graduation is not yet an issue for me. Plus I rarely wear an apron. But I'm already filled with similar contradictions and I anticipate having many more in the near future.

I want Ike to be self-sufficient and independent, but I can barely let him out of my sight. Graduate? Leave home? Are you kidding? I worry when he walks the three blocks to his friend's house.

I want him to have the knowledge one gains from difficulty: the value of hard work, persistence, and determination. BUT I don't want his life to be too difficult.

I want him to learn compassion and fortitude and the other lessons that come from suffering, BUT I can't stand to see him suffer.

I want him to understand that life isn't fair. BUT I want him to be treated fairly.

I want him to benefit from the knowledge I've gained from every mistake I've ever made, but I don't plan on revealing them all to him.

I want him to have many adventures in his life. But I don't necessarily want to know about them until he is safely through them.

I want him get to know himself and then have the courage to be himself, whoever that is. BUT I hope finding himself doesn't mean having too many body piercing and tattoos along the way.

I want him to make his own decisions and forge his own path. I just hope his path leads to gainful employment.

I want him to think for himself and form his own opinions. But I won't mind if his opinions match mine a good deal of the time.

I want him to find his passion, something that gets him up in the morning and gives him joy throughout all of his days. BUT I hope his passion does not involve frequent gambling or the World Wrestling Federation.

I'd like him to get his diploma some day, even if he skips across the stage to do it. I'd like him to be smart, brilliant really. But even better, I'd like him to be wise. Wise would make him successful in life. BUT smart would make him successful on Who Wants to be a Millionaire, which would be nice too.

I want him to marry well, but there are days I think no one will be good enough for him. Other days, I'm afraid no one will have him.

Yes, I am full of contradictions. And I want my child to turn out well despite that -- despite me. I'd even go so far as to say I want him to be a better person than I am. BUT I hope he has the good graces not to know it.

Copyright© 2005

Dorothy Rosby is a contributing writer for Fabulously40 and a syndicated humor columnist and entertaining speaker whose column has appeared in newspapers in ten Midwestern and Western states since 1996. (The area is home to more cows than people, so the reader should not be overly impressed.) Dorothy grew up in Buffalo, South Dakota, a town of fewer than 400 people in a state that was once left out of the Rand McNally atlas. A former radio announcer, she was once asked by an employer to change her name on air because, “No one will take you seriously with a name like Dorothy.” All of this has led to self-esteem issues that can only be dealt with by a healthy dose of self-deprecating humor. Read more