The birthday is getting closer. The big 3-9. Ahhh…I’m getting so old!
Just kidding. I really don’t feel old and I’m actually excited.
People keep offering suggestions about what I can include in my 40 new adventures and I love it! Keep ’em coming!
I can’t actually start them yet though because I set a goal and I will not steer off course.
If I say 40 adventures between my 39th and 40th birthdays then it simply will not do to try wake boarding when I’m two weeks and one day out from the big day (plus I’m pretty sure I’ve already tried it). I know. Everyone asks how I can’t remember, but I suffer from CRS disorder.
Don’t worry it’s not a real thing…it stands for “can’t remember sh*t”.
You see, I know that I’ve knee boarded and water skied. I’m just not sure if I’m confusing those two things with wake boarding and thinking I’ve done that too. Ugh. I’m really going to be a disaster when I’m actually old and can’t remember anything. I apologize in advance to whoever is taking care of me then.
Emilee’s attempt at wake boarding. She’s one tough girl.
I’m slightly OCD also. It’s not my fault, it runs in my family. I use a ridiculous amount of hand sanitizer and I worry. A lot. About everything. Here’s the thing though, I don’t use it as an excuse to live locked up in my house. And I try not to hold my kids back from experiencing life. I let them jump off really tall rocks and drive over the pass by themselves even though the entire time I have awful thoughts running through my head about all the things that can go wrong.
I also knock on wood. A lot. It makes me feel better and I’m sure there’s something to this karma thing.
What I really wanted to tell you about is our annual trip to Grand Coulee. We started going in 2004 and we haven’t missed a year.
My aunt and uncle (two of my absolutely favorite people in this world) host a family reunion every year in July.
It’s a week of sunshine (usually), camping, boating, hours on the beach, water sports, jumping off big rocks, eating amazing food, plenty of adult beverages and hanging out with our crazy family and friends.
There’s almost always some kind of drama.
One year, the fires were so bad that we could hardly breathe. That same year there was an epic wind storm that nearly gave Beau a nervous breakdown. The houseboat ripped a cleat off the dock and was being whipped sideways and all of the boats were slamming into the dock. As he was trying to get the boats out of the water (at 1:00 AM in the dark) all I could imagine was him falling off the dock and drowning (see really dramatic worrying).
Another year, he almost dumped the camper in the lake. That was exciting. Or more like terrifying. That marked the last year we actually unloaded the camper off the truck.
Someone almost always gets mad or annoyed at someone else.
Someone usually gets hurt. Might be a fish hook in the foot that requires a trip to the local hospital. Or a wayward firework in the man parts (poor Beau).
But we ALWAYS leave happy and can’t wait for the next year.
When we invite friends, they return as part of the family. It’s just how it goes.
I hope my kids never stop coming. I hope that when the older generations can’t make it anymore that the younger ones keep the tradition going.
These are the experiences I’m talking about. The ones we remember as kids and shape us into the adults we later become.
Most days, I’d like to put my kids in a protective bubble (equipped with a lifetime supply of hand sanitizer). But I don’t. Beau talks me off the ledge and is my voice of reason.
I love that they are the first ones to jump off the boat into the water and the first ones to climb that rock and show the world how it’s done. They inspire me.
Keep it up my brave children. Be confident. Be adventurous. Be you.
But be careful too.