Taken for Granted

For every mother who was lucky enough to tuck her babies in and kiss them goodnight, there is a mother heartbroken somewhere that she wasn't as fortunate.

For every father who gets to play baseball after work or sit at his daughters tea party there is a dad somewhere who misses all those things.

I am certain there is a parent who would love the opportunity to put their kid to bed one last time, even as I dread walking in my kids' room, yet again. I am guilty knowing that somewhere out there is a parent who would love the chance to holler at their kid to put on their shoes or stop hitting their brother.

There is a baby out there going to bed tonight missing their mama or daddy and praying they could come back. There is a child missing a brother or a sister and wanting nothing more than to have them home with them.

There is a wife that goes to bed lonely dreaming of her husband and there is a husband out there lost without his wife.

It is so easily taken for granted. It is so easily taken away.

Be thankful. Every. Single. Day.

 My loves.


Risk vs. Reward

It is no secret that in order to get some of the greatest things in life you need to put yourself out there. You need to take risks. The risk can be as simple as asking out that guy you have had a crush on to something as complicated as investing hard earned money in the stock market. Either way you don't know what the outcome will be going in. So you weigh the risk vs. reward.

The fear of rejection or of losing all your cash could get the better of you and you could play it safe. Or you could be married to the guy with millions in the bank. You just never know.

I would say overall I am not a risk taker. I am the epitome of a play it safe kinda girl. If it wasn't for my husband telling me we have to be aggressive with our money in the market I would probably never even invest in it. It seems too scary to me, the thought of losing what we worked so hard to earn. He reminds me, you have to bet big to win big. You usually don't find the millionaires at the quarter slots in Vegas.

It is this risk vs. reward mentality that is killing me. The you just never know until you try way of thinking. How I determine if a risk is too great, too scary or too life-changing compared to the greatest of rewards is something I can't wrap my head around. It is easier for me to work through this equation when it is not something very realistic or important to me.

The risk of betting millions to win millions is not something I need to worry about (if you are looking for me I will be at the quarter slots!) The thrill of jumping out of a plane and the risk of losing my life, no thanks.

It is not as simple when you've taken the risk before and the reward has been oh so sweet. That it makes me tempted to try my luck and do it again. Because I did it before and I won and that could totally happen again, right? That's the tricky thing about risk vs. reward though, you could win it all one time and lose all you have the next time you're in.

When the risk and reward will change my life, change me and my family, I have to really weigh my odds. My head is screaming RISK, RISK, RISK while my heart is all think of the sweet reward.

As much as I would love the reward, I know my heart wouldn't survive the risk.

Super Heros

When you have these two by your side you can't help but feel safe.
And also extremely lucky.

Batman & Spider Man saving the world (or sometimes destroying it)
one day at a time.

Whoever said boys aren't the best have clearly never had boys dressed as
Super Heros.

Locked In

It was bound to happen sooner or later. I mean they run and chase and don't listen to a word I am shouting at them. This happens every Tuesday afternoon in the locker room of our local YMCA. It is swimming lessons day and both my little fish are so excited to be there that I would have a better chance at wrangling to cats into a bathtub than I have getting them ready to get in the pool.

This past week I thought things would be slightly easier because Jack was having to sit out during his lesson due to his arm in the cast. I was obviously mistaken because all that really meant was Jack had more time to run around and screw off while I was trying to keep Joey focused on getting one leg in each hole of his swim trunks. Something about the net in boys trunks that gets my kids all tangled up.

We were early so once Joey was dressed and I was done gathering the clothes that he had stripped off and left in a trail all over the locker room I decided to text a friend back quickly. The boys were running around and playing the usual game of peek-a-boo and hide-n-seek using the lockers. I have told them no less than 3,750 times to not play in the lockers because one of these times you are going to get your fingers closed in the door, OH MY GOD! IS ANYONE LISTENING? Low and behold, no one is.

So I proceeded to text and they continued to climb in and out of the lockers laughing and screaming while I all but ignored them.

Then I heard the slam. I turned to see Joey in a mad dash past the locker where Jack just was. Then I heard the yelp for help. Sure enough Joey had darted past his brother who was hiding in locker number 219 (with the door left open a crack because it is scary in the locker in the dark, didn't you know?) and in the process slammed the locker door shut. Thankfully no fingers were cut off, this time.

I could hear Jack banging (with his one good arm since the other was in a cast) and starting to freak out. I laughed a little and told him to calm down that I was coming to let him out and DIDN'T I TELL YOU NOT TO PLAY IN THE LOCKERS?

Except when I arrived at locker 219 and tried to lift the handle to let him out, it wouldn't budge. As in it wouldn't move an inch...nothing. I gave the locker a whack thinking that would free him since it sometimes worked to get stuck Snickers bars and sodas out of vending machines. Surely a good kick and the door would bounce right open and deliver me my five year old. But it didn't. Jack was starting to really lose it and I explained the door was jammed and not to worry that I would get him out but it might take a minute and he would need to stay calm even though I was totally losing my shit. I mean, come on, who's kid gets stuck in a locker? Only mine.

A few minutes of kicking and banging went on with no luck and I told Jack I was going to have to leave and get help. Since we were still the only ones in the locker room I had no choice. He started screaming for me to call the firemen because they would be able to get him out and I was kinda thinking he was right. Just then a little girl from the Y preschool came in to the locker room to pee and I instantly started yelling at her to go get her teacher that I needed help. She looked scared as hell, but truthfully so did I. The teacher came flying in and when I explained that my son was stuck in the locker (as if she couldn't hear him bellowing from his new home) she looked at me like, you are fucking kidding me, right lady? No, no I am not. I need help. She said she would go get someone to help since she had no idea what to do. Keep in mind this entire time I am banging and pulling and kicking the living hell out of this locker while simultaneously wondering if my kid is actually getting enough air through the five little slats at the top of the locker. I was having a complete claustrophobia attack and I wasn't even in the locker!

Thankfully all my kicking and banging paid off and right as a few people, including what I think was the Y janitor, came flying into the locker room the door popped open releasing my sweaty, red-faced boy. After some hugs and reassuring that he was okay, that we were okay, I threatened to take his life if he ever set foot in a locker again. I think he finally gets it.