Everything is'nt meant to be OK

Oh Boy. August. I don't think I have ever really liked August. That is not entirely accurate, so I will elaborate. I have always liked some aspects of summer, and August is, well, technically during summer. I think my major hang up is that August is preparation for Fall in all intents and purposes. The dread makes sense to me from the standpoint of school comes with fall. All my young life, I dreaded the coming of school, and that created a black cloud that hung over August. But now? Should I not be looking forward to the kids going to school? I should be looking forward to the reprieve from the kids while they are in school. To, the anticipation of snow. Instead the announcement that the days are shorter, brings the anxiety. Could it be a learned response, a Pavlov's dog type thing, from my developing years? (Even if that was long ago -more time has passed since then, than the actual length of the experience)It may be the concept of lost potential. We approach the longest day in the year ( in JUNE!) with plans of things to do. The days come, and it feels like it will be this way for ever. And every year I feel like the sun is up longer than it was last year. By August, there are things that are supposed to have been done, but not. And as you notice that the days are shorter, it lets you know with exclamation that the potential has been squandered.
Another point that should support my anticipation of fall, is that the kids don't like going to sleep while the sun is still up. "Eight o'clock, time for bed." "We can't go to bed, the sun is still up!" I guess if I really embraced summer, we would get up with the sun, and go down with the sun. Which would necessitate a nap of some sort in the middle of the day for all parties involved. Since I have not implemented this sleep patern yet, I should be celebrating the shorter days.
When the kids hurt themselves, there are a myriad of thoughts. On the one hand it is so uncool to see the look in their eyes, it is a look sort of like betrayal. They seem to blame the thing that "caused" the pain. Or are upset that the laws of nature have let them down. On the plus side, there is less "getting back" at the offender. And there seems to be less crying -I suppose they know it is fruitless since what will they gain?
Yesterday, Riles had that look of betrayal. She was jumping into the pool, and miss-judged the edge of the pool. I was playing with Ethan, so I missed the actual event. What I saw, was her holding on to the wall, goggles around her neck, crying pretty hard, looking around like she was looking for someone. My initial reaction was that she was mad at the kid next to her. I swam over to see what the issue was. That is when I noticed the lump on her forehead, and that she had a bloody nose. She sat on the side of the pool and we got some ice. her eyes were clear, not dialated, and she seemed lucid to me, so I was not overly concerned about her condition. In hindsight, I am happy that she had the presence of mind to hold on to the wall. It reassures me that she is learning the right things. It was interesting (in a way) to see her look at the kids around her as if they would help. But these kids were around her age, and as I have seen often, the other kids are clueless. An octopus could have come out of the drain, and latched itself to Riles' head (or any kid) and the other kids would be asking her if they could use her goggles. They just have that naive innocence about their surroundings. The world is reacting to them in a sense. It is here for their benefit.
Riles went to the doctor to let an official give us the warm fuzzy that she was OK. We got more ice. And she has some swelling, we will see how black her eyes get in the next few days, but no extreme internal stuff. We are just keeping an eye on her for now.
As a parent, there is a part of me which appreciates these moments. The kids should experience as much of life as possible. Should they be like Nemo, where Dad doesn't let them experience pain, thus life? You can see the learning, where Rileigh now has a better understanding of what being careful at the side of the pool means. And there was no permanent damage, so the more stuff like this she can experience, the better off she will be. -in theory-
The parent in me also is crying along with Rileigh. I don't want her to ever experience this pain again. The worst things I have seen are kids in pain. And to see my own in pain, tears at my insides. That look on her face hits the pit of my stomach. I don't want her to think negatively of the pool. I don't want her to be afraid. Respect, but not afraid. I want her to learn, but I don't want her to have to hit her thumb with the hammer to learn that it hurts.
Meanwhile, Ethan is singing as much of the song "Rollin on the River" as he can remember. This morning he asked me to sing it, like I know that song! I am familiar with it, but....