From the edge of the house to the pool was only four feet, so we always easily cleared the pool decking 10 feet below us. After baking in the 100+ degree weather of California's Central Valley, swimming in our pool all through high school was such a pleasure. Especially with all our friends over. And my sister and I always had friends over.
Our mom and dad loved the fact that our friends were always over, except when they weren't there and we were jumping off the roof into the pool. Or, when we were making out with those we were dating at the time. Or, when we were having a drinking party when they were at the coast for the weekend.
"Son, quit jumping off the roof," Dad would say. "You're going to break your frickin' neck. And if your friends break their frickin' neck, they parents are going to sue us. Do you understand?"
Except that he'd throw the real expletives at me and then some. I'd nod and say I did understand, and then the next week we'd again be jumping off the roof. My dad had been a police officer and detective for over 32 years, and was more than direct at times, and yet still had a big heart.
What was lost on me at the time was how much our friends enjoyed coming over when our parents were home, even more often than when they weren't. My parents were always so generous with all our friends, even those they didn't like so much. But they weren't just friendly adults longing to be friends with our friends; they were friendly adults who still had boundaries as our parents and who treated our friends as extended family. More than once in years since my friends have reminded me of how much my parents were like a second family to them, a second set of parents they listened to and respected.
Fast forward decades to our family of two girls, Beatrice and Bryce, now 11 and 9. Both girls have many friends, which we're thankful for, as they are loving young humans with good hearts and grateful souls. With friends over regularly for play dates and now both girls experiencing slumber parties away and at home, the growing up adventures have only just begun.
In fact, the multiple movie parties we've had with nearly 20 kids at one time have turned into date nights for many other parents, of which they're quite appreciative (with a good-luck wink and a smile). We have fun and the kids have fun, and the latest of these events was Bea's 11th birthday party where over 25 kids shook the foundation of our not-so-big house.
So. Many. Kids. A little overwhelming for me, but less so for my wife Amy, with us both trying to keep an eye on everything ("Stop feeding the rabbit," and "Stop jumping on the couch," and "Stay out of the garage," and "No pizza or cake or drinks in the living room"), although the kids were pretty good overall (only two spills, that we know of), still listening to the adults in the room as they're all still in the pre-tween shadows.
"There's so many kids here," I said to Amy.
"Yes, and I want to be those parents," she said, "the ones where the kids are comfortable coming over and we know what's going on because they're here."
"True, but there's so many kids."
"I know, Sweetie. Love you. Please go see what they're doing in the backyard."
Of course we're not the only house the kids will want to hang out at, and we're not the only parents who befriend other kids as a second family of sorts. But we do want to be those parents, especially through middle school (which is coming next year!), high school and beyond. We want to know what's going on as much as we can and as much as they're comfortable sharing with us. No fear or shame, just parental guidance and understanding, and a lotta frickin' patience (miss you Dad!).
The good news for now? We're a few years from the tempests of teenage-land. Plus, we currently don't have a pool, so there's no jumping off the roof any time soon.
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