Some weekends feel like they hold more than two days should be able to carry.
Mother’s Day weekend was one of those.
It started Saturday morning at Albany State University’s graduation, sitting in the crowd and watching so many of my students cross the stage. There is something deeply emotional about seeing students reach that moment. I know the late nights, the revised papers, the nervous presentations, the questions, the growing confidence, the “I don’t know if I can do this” moments that eventually become “I did it.”
And then there they were—walking across the stage.
It was bittersweet in the best way. As a professor, you spend so much time encouraging students to keep going, to finish strong, to believe in the work they are doing. Then graduation comes, and suddenly they are no longer just students in your classroom. They are graduates stepping into whatever comes next. I felt proud to have been even a small part of their journey.
After graduation, the weekend shifted from caps and gowns to kids and grandparents. Saturday afternoon, we took the kids to stay with my mom, which gave Mikey and me a rare chance to spend time with friends. We met Madisson and Cortin for dinner at Mi Casa, and then we all went to Up2U Entertainment to throw axes—which sounds slightly ridiculous and also turned out to be so much fun.
There is something about laughing with friends while trying to hurl an axe at a wooden target that makes you forget every email waiting in your inbox.
While we were there, we met up with Chad and Meghann Hart, and afterward we all went to MC’s Bar and Grill. We ended the night hanging out with friends we had not seen in a while, the kind of friends where the conversation picks back up even if life has kept everyone busy.
Those are the moments I have learned not to take for granted.
Sunday morning brought us back to church, and I sat with my mom and my daughter. Three generations on one pew. I do not know that I can fully explain why that felt so meaningful, but it did. Maybe because motherhood has a way of making you look backward and forward at the same time. Sitting beside the woman who raised me and the little girl I am helping raise felt like one of those quiet gifts you only recognize if you slow down long enough.
After church, Mikey brought me flowers, which made the day feel even sweeter. Not because flowers are required, but because being seen always matters. Motherhood is beautiful, but it is also constant. It is snacks and schedules, laundry and reminders, scraped knees and bedtime questions, worrying and praying and loving so much it sometimes feels like too much for one heart. A simple bouquet can feel like a little thank-you tucked into the middle of all of that.
Then we went to Mama’s, where the Mother’s Day celebration turned into a family project. We put together a swingset for the kids, which feels like the perfect symbol for summer beginning. There were pieces everywhere, instructions being interpreted, people helping where they could, and kids waiting with barely contained excitement.
And then came the food: ribs, mac and cheese, and baked beans.
Honestly, that is a Mother’s Day meal I can get behind.
By the end of the weekend, I felt tired in that good way—the kind of tired that comes from full days, full plates, full hearts, and full houses. We celebrated graduates. We laughed with friends. We worshiped together. We ate good food. We built something for the kids to enjoy. We marked Mother’s Day not with anything overly fancy, but with the kind of ordinary moments that end up meaning the most.
It was a great weekend.
And now, summer adventures can officially begin.
Southern Ink 
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