Jesus walked on water, He didn't swim through it.

    Our first swim meet of the year was the other day.  It really wasn't a meet though, it was time trials.  These times serve as a baseline and the swimmers work to improve upon them during the season.  So...
    It had been a long day for this mom.  Not unlike every other mom there.  However, my patience was dwindling.  After telling my  kids to sign in, my son asked his 1001 question of the day.  True, his limit is 5001, but my limit had surpassed said number five hours before this.  I snapped at him, telling him to just go sign in. 
     I gritted my teeth as I set our things out on a lounger, we'd found one of the good ones, miracle of miracles.  I glanced up to see two tweenage girls eyeballing me.  "Yes," I wanted to say, "I am the mean mom.  So how wise is it for you to be eyeballin' me?"  They must have gotten the message because they dropped their gaze.  (I'd like to thank the Academy for acknowledging my talent and my mother for showing me the path to winning a staring contest.  See mom, you thought it was all attitude.  Which it is, but I did take careful notes of your vast talents.)
     My kids brought back their sheets showing what events they would be swimming.  I can never make heads or tails of these.  I look at the number for the event and listen for it to be announced.  I also prayed for my husband to get there soon and take over.  He was running late.  I know, goes with the day...
     Then the time most parents, except the sainted ones, dread.  The calling for volunteers to watch over the kids in the bullpen or to keep time.  My girlfriend and I made eye contact with the cement and prayed for the saints to step up.  She spotted my oldest daughter-a legal adult no less-before I did.  "Oh, look!  There's your ever responsible daughter!  I bet she'd be a timer!"  So, I asked my daughter to help us out.  Mean mom disappeared as I asked her and called her honey and told her how much we'd appreciate it.  Bless her, with a smile on her face she said, "Sure, mom."  Thank you God for her.  She's the girl I should try to be but give up ten seconds in. 
     Time for the events to begin.  Finally.  My son did fine getting in position.  My middle daughter did too, but had some problems getting out of the pool because of a pulled muscle in her shoulder and no leverage for her feet in the deep end.  My husband had arrived and stood and watched as two of our friends gave her a boost.  (When we were first married another couple called him "The Absent Minded Professor".  This used to really annoy me.  But sometimes, it is true.) 
     So, my annoyed tone transferred to him.  I asked him to please go over and help if our daughter needed anything again.  He sauntered over.  SAUNTERED...  And yes, I could have helped too.  If my back wouldn't have been out.  Which he was aware of since I'd nearly overdosed on Advil the night before.  God bless this daughter too.  She had decided to quickly slip over to the ladder to exit the pool.  I stand in awe of her problem solving skills.  Obviously so would have the professor if he'd been paying attention...
     My son returned to the "golden" lounger after his trial for backstroke and I could tell something was wrong.  He was trying very hard not to get upset.  He didn't want to tell me what happened because crying in public at his age is ostracism in the severest degree.  He finally told me he'd hit his head on the side of the pool.  I went to get some ice and was given a trash bag full.  He does not have a pumpkin head, so this fit him like a sombero.  Almost as humiliating as a public display of pain...
     Now, remember when I said the event sheet was confusing?  Since the professor was busy talking while Dr. Mom made a run to the snack shop aka ER for a trash bag sized swelling repellant, I'd lost track of who was on first.  The next thing I know, they are calling my middle daughter by name for her event.  'Cause that's not embarrassing at all for either one of us. 
     The coach came over to get her for the next event because we all know clueless mom needs as much help as can be given.  Actually, the absent mindedness of her husband has rubbed off on her because she can't remember everything for everybody.  Absent mindedness or crazytown, you pick...
     The silver lining?  My son and daughter shaved tons of seconds off their old records!  And my daughter has the confidence to think out a solution on her own.  
     The lesson learned?  Don't try to wade through your bad mood alone.  Remember, Jesus can walk on water, but momma sinks like Peter when her eyes leave the Savior's trustworthy face.