It only took two years, gazillions of hours of class and homework and study sessions and interviews and networking and very little sleep throughout.
But it happened.
And my little heart nearly exploded when my honey walked across the stage (in part because my kids were getting ready to launch a legit rebellion at that exact moment).
Graduations and babies don't mix.
And just like that, this wild and crazy stage of our life together is over.
Part of me wanted to scream at the top of my lungs while dancing a jig, while another part had to fight the urge to curl up in the fetal position and cry the ugliest cry imaginable.
We made some of the best friends of our lives in grad school.
My babies got to see their grandparents every single day.
I had unlimited access to Creamery chocolate milk.
Also, I'm not sure I'm ready to move out of my high school bedroom (true story) and become a real adult yet.
All good things must come to an end though, I guess, and this whole experience has been the best kind.
I won't lie though, it's about time my deadbeat husband actually starts bringing home some bacon again.
I joke, I joke.
Congrats to our Master Reece!
You look great in that robe.