I went in search of lumbar support, leaving the lawn and the decomposing goldfish crackers and staking out a chair.
It takes a ninja to land a chair. Thankfully, I had Zack.
We had swam all afternoon, and by we, I mean they, while I read and sweated and regretted leaving my suit at home.
I provided exotic milkshakes from the local burger joint but as Zack curled up in my lap during Lexi's lesson, I wondered if I had worn them down completely. Lexi swam lap after lap and I wondered how much longer my boy will snuggle up with me in public; truthfully, I wondered how much longer my boy will snuggle up with me when it was scorching hot out, but that's another matter.
These days are long, and I stretch them until the seams scream.
We tuck playdates, and Vacation Bible Schools, and camps and dinners and walks into long lingering days, always on the go.
But the hours, the moments? They are terribly intimate and fleeting, a boy resting on my leg, the two of us alone in the world, his sister gracefully moving through the water at our feet.
I bear witness to these days of their youth; I watch the babies I held just years ago - mine and the other children I love in my life - run and race and play in the bark chips.
And though I am active, I am thick in this season of watching, a season that both soothes my spirit and breaks my heart.