I know, blah, blah, blah; I said this all last year when Mike graduated. I thought I was done kvetching too, believe me. But no, I guess the Mama in me takes precedence.

I was fine until two days ago. Our office houses two PCs. Tyler's computer sits next to our ancient technological device that was a computer in 1999. It makes for an easy POS (Parent-Over-Shoulder) vantage point when he's on MySpace.com, although we didn't really plan it that way. His life is just more interesting than ours. We share a printer.

I was printing something out, and Ty had the printer hooked up to his PC. He said, "Here, Mom - let me print that for you."

I burst out crying, "Oh, Tyler! I don't want you to go-ho-ho-ho-oh-nooooooo!"

To my surprise, he had a lot to say about that, and apparently had been holding it in to keep me from crying. Out it came, though, and after about a half hour of shared confessions of fears, feelings of loneliness, and the two of us remembering times when he could only say, "Sheesh?" for "See this?" we were both spent.

I am touched by how many millions of parents love their children this much. Whenever I run into a fellow mom or dad whose child has been a classmate of Tyler's since kindergarten, the waterworks flow.

You could set a clock by the conversation:

T minus 10 seconds: "Oh, my gosh! I can't believe they are graduating!"

T minus 8 seconds: "I know! Can you believe it? Eighteen years old. Wow!"

T minus 5 seconds: "I remember their first day of kindergarten like it was yesterday."

T minus 3 seconds: "Me, too. Do you remember how they looked back at us with those little Jurassic Park backpacks and waved goodbye as they walked in?"

Boom! Tears are streaming down both of our faces, just like they were on that first day of school 13 years ago.

Father Time is the ultimate in stealth command. He conceals moments encompassing tremendous emotional upheavals. He hides memories of uplifting joy, tremendous sorrow, and periods of extreme strife with a kind hand, keeping us marching forward into the more promising future.

For the class of 2007, that future is now. We see our children's lives pass before us in an intensely detailed flash of loving memories - the doubts, the fears, the triumphs and failures, all rolled into this beautiful young adult who made it.

Our sons and daughters arrived at this day of their own accord. Sure, we dutifully and lovingly carted them to school, scouts, after-school clubs, sports, rehearsals, state meets and jobs. Sometimes we were upset with them for not taking out the trash, not finishing their homework, being tardy, being lazy - whatever. In our critical view, they weren't living up to their fullest potential.

That was just good old-fashioned parental diligence, firmly founded in love. Our parents raised us in the same manner. We survived the eye rolls, the sighs, the slumps, the shouting matches and even the door slams.

But today, as that child of ours graduates, we are filled to overflowing with nothing but love and pride. Despite all of our countless hours of worrying, counseling, scolding and grounding, our child is today a success.

Even with all of those years parents spend wringing our hands over our children, they made it to graduation day completely on their own. We didn't hold her hand when she turned in that first major book report. We weren't there when he gave that big presentation in class that qualified him for the county competition. We weren't there to see the look of joy on our son or daughter's face when that special someone asked them to prom.

We are here for them today. We don't go to the graduation ceremony empty-handed. We bring 18 years of memories with us, and the heart and mind are heavy with love and pride. Even though they may not say so, our graduates are filled with emotion, too. They share those years of loving memories in an intimate way that no other two people can. The parent-child bond shines with a silent fervor on this day.

When that familiar name of Tyler Philip Himel is read aloud next weekend at Coors Amphitheatre and in the Columbine High School tradition the stadium erupts with one solid hand-clap for each student, I will be crying. That's my baby up there.

I won't be alone in my tears. There won't be an empty heart in the house. This gift from Father Time - the one that says the parents of the class of 2007 shared in this journey together, is magical. At that simultaneous moment when mortarboards take flight and the crowd jumps for joy, Father Time smiles along with us.

He knows the journey is just beginning.