Letting go

I tend to have a hard time letting go.

When we first moved to this house, we were still in toddler and baby world and the thought of a pond in the backyard was not at all settling to me. It's big. And very deep. At the same time, I loved the pond and knew we were supposed to be here. I had a few rules, like any reasonable mom would,

“Do not go near the pond."

"Do not look at the pond."

"If you think of the pond, I will tie you to a chair."

"If you say the word 'pond', we are moving.”

You know, normal mom stuff.

We have had a blast over the last five years with a 1970s boat that had been my grandparent’s first fishing boat. David takes the kids and their friends out on it to fish, or just paddle around. Good times.

But today, the day came. Garrett and Tyler asked to take the boat out by themselves.

Gulp.

.

Instantly in my head, “think of all the things that could happen! They have only known how to swim for 10 years, they might forget! They could get crazy and tip the boat over! What if one of them hits his head and falls out, the other one might just ignore him and we’ll never see him again! What if there is a Pond Beast waiting to devour them!”

Again, normal mom stuff.

.

But I knew it was time.

.

So I let go.

.

And they were in heaven. They had a time. Being trusted with such a responsibility was fun. It was freeing. It was a new adventure. They literally were out there for hours. I could almost always see them from the windows of the house. When I couldn’t, I could open the door and hear the oars knocking against the boat and their voices and laughter.

And I knew I had done the right thing. Even though it made me feel a little insecure. And it made my mother gasp loudly on the phone.

It was right. And it was good.

.
Tyler even did his reading on the boat today .

They may have run into a few docking mishaps.

But they solved them on their own.

And learned from them for next time.

Sigh. Letting go stinks.

.

But it’s kind of a good stink.