Another week, another confession... In last week's, I confessed a terrible mom oversight. This week, I'm cringing as I confess that I let my high school babysitter face a challenge with my daughter I wasn't ready to face...
All right, all right, I know you're already judging me. I'm already anticipating the Comments and "helpful hints" I'll receive as a result of confessing this. Just know that whatever you would suggest, I've already suggested to myself, and written to myself in the form of a Comment. I know that confessions shouldn't be sandwiched between excuses, but my obsessive self will not let me leave this one confession unsaid:
If my kids were in danger in this activity, you better believe I'd be up there faster than a koala bear. Or, if I was on The Amazing Race, yes, I could grit my teeth and do the task for a million dollars.
But, last week? I chickened out. If you've seen the coolest rodeo movie ever--8 Seconds, then you will understand this phrase: "I didn't Mom Up to the occasion."
Why the heck not, some of you adventurous souls are asking me right now??? Well, I have some height issues. Okay, and also some control issues. And to be just completely honest--some I don't want to look stupid in public issues.
Oh, but WHAT was the event where I didn't Mom Up? My daughter's dearest summer camp friend asked for a mother-daughter morning on the High Elements Ropes Course. (HERC...which, in my opinion, should be re-named HELL...High Elements--Losers Look-out!)
Remember that I work at a summer camp,which is also translated as, "That place which is filled with high-energy, adventure around every corner." And, sadly, that does include events waaaaay up in the air where God intended only things with wings to inhabit. For some silly reason, the silly people in the camping world thought it would be fun to invent an activity where people get to face their FEARS. And with a partner to get to watch close up, no less!
Well, how high could it be you ask? Higher than squirrels climb, I am sure! See for yourself:
I've heard that this is the hardest part of this Ropes Course. Now, here's my logical brain's evaluation: If this part is difficult for girls, like my babysitter, who play competitive sports and are in the PRIME of their lives...then, what would it be like for a 40-year-old who hasn't played a competitive sport since age 10, when I dropped out of Softball because the jerseys weren't a pretty color. (Okay, that's probably not the real reason, but it's a good example of now not serious I was about softball.)
It's just not natural to be walking across a telephone pole up in the treetops. It ain't fittin, it ain't fittin, it jest ain't fittin. Humph.
Oh, they're smiling NOW...but they're about to SCREAM. How do I know this? Because what they are sitting upon right now is aptly named, "The Screamer."
Do you see the "Easy" button beneath their legs? That makes me giggle. Yes, it's easy--because all they have to do...is SCREAM...once they're strapped in, and the board beneath them falls away--and they go FLYING THROUGH THE AIR.
Can you hear my heart pounding?
P.S. Yes, I know this is the Year of 40 for me, also known as The Year I Tackle some Goals...and maybe a few fears, too. The blasted Ropes Course is on my List. I promise to write all about it here, when it happens. I just won't tell anyone beforehand, and I won't post any pictures until I've properly "edited" them (ahem, enhanced them!)
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