It was me. I was the one.

boys-in-pool

It was me. I was the one.

I was the responsible adult overseeing the crew of 13-year-old boys at the community pool today.

I only come forward because when I was the mother of children younger-than-they-are-now I would sometimes grumble things like, “Who is the responsible adult overseeing this crew of 13-year-old boys??”

And I want you to know that today it was me.

I want you to know that I watched over them carefully even as they conceived a water-wrestling game that sent their skinny limbs up out of the blue while pushing parts of their bodies vital to life far below. I want you to know that I held my own breath as they inched toward your children and that I was the one yelling from the side when they got too close.

“Boys! All I ask is that you be aware and respectful of the people around you.”

Blank stares.

“Carry on. But maybe just a little more to the left.”

I want you to know that I was happy to watch them play this game of yelping madness, a game of nonstop motion with an accompanying and unflagging commitment to near-drowning.

And not only was I happy to do it, it swelled my mothering heart a little to see it.

And that’s because I am counting on that shouting, limb-flailing, inclusive, crazy ball of boy-ness to carry these young men along all the way through middle school, high school and land them squarely at the doors of their missions. I’m counting on that momentum to keep them together when the world tries to tease them away from the safest path. I’m counting on a protruding limb or two to pick up a love of God,  a helping of charity and some testimonies along the way. And I’m counting on those things to get caught up in the bustle, bouncing from one sweet child to the next and then back again, so that those who may pick them up first can pass along wee-wisdom to those still figuring it out. I’m counting on muscles to develop on now-lean frames, muscles that will help them stand up for one another and for any others in need of a friend as they rumble and tumble by. I am counting on entirely different muscles to develop on those now-tender spirits, muscles that will help them watch out for one another in every other, most important way.

So I promise. I’m keeping my eye on them. But forgive me, because honestly it may have just a tiny hint of a tear.

Then again, could it be the chlorine? There is a heck of a lot of splashing going on around here.

 

This post originally appeared at Welcome to My Miss-Adventures.

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