To Be a Performing-Artist-Nutritionist-Author-Trainer

"So... what? You're going to be a performing-artist-nutritionist-author-trainer?" 

That was the scoffed response I got as a junior in high school when a friend and I pondered what we'd like to be when we "grew up." I shrunk back in defeat, knowing that no one was looking to hire a "performing-artist-nutritionist-author-trainer."  

My interests were always everywhere (and still are, for that matter). I love art and writing, dancing and performing, cooking and nutrition, fitness and wellness... anything that stimulates my mind/body/spirit and challenges my creativity. I spent more time than I'd like to admit trying to figure out what career path was right for me. 

Finding myself was proving to be a terribly difficult task. 

I envied those that knew exactly what they wanted to do and the clear paths that laid in front of them. My path looked to be more like a tangled mess than anything with a sense of cohesiveness. 

For years, I slowly loosened the knots in the tangles, finding my way little by little, sometimes creating bigger messes along the way. I had a new job every few months and thanks to boredom and lack of passion, nothing seemed to stick. The promise of a big income or a steady paycheck seemed empty if it meant doing something I didn't truly love. 

So, it hit me.

If my perfect career didn't exist, I would create it. 

And that's exactly what I did. 

From that early age, I knew, at my core, what my calling was, but the noise of societal norms and the "shoulds" of life got in the way. Even though I always had a smile on, I knew I felt anything but comfortable behind a desk in an office or waiting tables and serving drinks. I ignored my instincts to follow my passions and instead pursued the things I thought I should be doing, instilled by my parents and the idea of what "grown-up life" was supposed to look like. 

But, as I grew up, the noise diminished, giving way for reason and passion to scream for me to take notice and take action. 

So I began with the things that made me happy and checked them off, one by one.

I love art and writing... started a blog

      dancing and performing... created my own stage with Zumba

            cooking and nutrition... became a nutrition counselor and play with recipes

                  fitness and wellness... got certified as a personal trainer & health coach

Voila~ I am a performing-artist-nutritionist-author-trainer!

It was only when I allowed myself to trust my heart that I began making sense of the tangled mess of a career path. I am still combing through the knots, gradually morphing my business, YOUfit, in to what it will eventually become. 

The progress is slow...

and, at times, discouraging...

but it's progress nonetheless...

and I'm okay with that...

because I know that this path not only keeps a smile on my face, but makes that smile authentic, from the inside, out. 

Choose Happiness

At every moment, we are responsible for exactly where we are and where we are not in life, how we feel, what we have and do not have and how we choose to perceive our surroundings and situations. 

Responsibility sucks.

Hang on. Let’s adjust this thought. 

Responsibility is empowering.

To helplessly throw hands up in the air is admitting defeat.

Surrendering to feeling things that aren’t ideal, rolling over and pouting over being unhappy with where/how/who we are at the moment- living the “it is what it is” mentality in general, is a cop out. Don’t like it? Change it. 

Yes, the Serenity Prayer’s preaching of accepting that there is only so much we can control and letting go of that which we cannot is still valid, but far too often, we skew the ratios, doing ourselves a major disservice. 

Happiness is a right. Choosing to be chronically miserable is just that- a choice. For the most part, we are all equipped with the ability of choice. After all, is that not one of the fundamental features of pump it means to be human? 

Erring on the side of restraint, I will choose to pump the breaks on the preaching and leave it at this: 

Take responsibility. Figure out where your joy lies and take the first step towards it. We are more powerful than we allow ourselves to believe. There is power in choice. Choose happiness. 

Benefit of the Doubt

As I held a door open for a lady, she whizzed by as if the door were automatic, paying no mind to the fact that I was just another customer like her. As a knee jerk response, I felt the need to curse her rudeness and edged on sarcastically shouting “you’re welcome!” at her back, but what good would that do? Would that really satisfy me?

Every person has a back story. Every moment is preceded by a series of other moments before it. All I knew of that woman was in that solitary moment that she breezed by me with nary a thank-you nod- it was my choice to take it personally or not.

Always one to give someone the benefit of the doubt, I took a moment to pull back my defense mechanisms, take a breath, and realize she meant absolutely no personal harm towards me. Who knows what had been on her mind? Who knows where she was rushing to or where her focus was? What I do know is that she, just like I, is human with emotions and busy-ness in her life.

I’m certain that at one point during a particularly stressful day, I quite possibly could have offended someone or accidentally neglected to use my manners. Unfortunately, to whomever the victims of my acts of accidental unkindness, those may have been the only impressions of me they will ever receive. All I can do is hope they give me the same benefit of the doubt and realize it was not at all intentional and that, had I taken a moment to pay more attention, I would have absolutely chosen to act more respectfully.

This is a lesson slowly started to form over the years working in the food service industry. Anyone that has every waited tables, served beverages, rung up orders or the like has a story of a guests’ rudeness or a personal encounter with a customer’s projection of negativity. I admit that it was definitely difficult to continuously award the benefit of the doubt when I seemingly had to bite my tongue on a daily basis, but now that I have strengthened my patience-muscle, I am able to step back, exhale and think instead of react.

Everyone has a bad day. Even I, someone with a perma-smile and a continuous laugh, have my moments. I try never to step on toes or offend, but I’m sure it has and will happen unconsciously. In keeping with the old adage, I give kindness and compassion unto others as I would hope they would give unto me. After all, life is more beautiful if we can see people as innately good-intentioned with the occasional off-day.

Pint Sized Buddhas

The love from a toddler is much the same as that of a puppy- unadulterated, uncalculated, in its purest pristine form. Their hugs and smiles have yet to be corrupted and (hopefully) come with no ulterior motives (minus the occasional affection-for-a-cookie barter). When a child says “I love you,” it is honest. It is said with no holds barred, worry-free of your choice to repeat those the three words in return (but, how could you not?!).

Children are pint sized Buddhas housing the keys to happiness; each offers a world of simple lessons that we all at one point knew ourselves, but had slowly let go of as life grew less simple with every passing year. I’ve been lucky enough to meet a close friend’s five year old daughter who has taught me a lesson more important than any I could have ever learned in a classroom.

Her laugh is happiness personified and the broadness of her smile trumps that of the Cheshire cat. I envy that her bouncy up and down jumping that never fails to accompany her excitement is socially acceptable, as I would probably attract some odd glances if I did the same. She is a human exclamation point, having yet to learn to hold back her emotions or scale back her level of energy and her aura glows with radiant positivity. She wants for nothing except the occasional toy to add to a never-ending collection and the pureness of her heart automatically attracts love from every life she touches. If only the essence of this five year old could be bottled and mass distributed, world peace could finally be achieved.

When is it that the amount of laughter and smiles in our day becomes overshadowed by stressful brow-furrowing and concerned frowns? When in our lives do tears stream down our faces only from sadness and no longer from uncontainable joy? How sad it is that we must stifle our emotions in favor or socially acceptable behavior!

I am not suggesting that adults behave exactly like toddlers- unfortunately, that may land one in an asylum of some sort. What I do suggest is that we all reignite that dying flame of pure happiness and love within usthat had shone so brightly when we were children, but had been slowly burning out over the years. It may not be appropriate to physically jump up and down for joy over every last thing, but we can allow ourselves to feel the same happiness and express it in a tamer way. Letting someone that is truly dear to us know we love them should never be a point of hesitation because, honestly, who doesn’t have room for just a little more love?

Even though life does get more complicated by responsibilities and hardship,the simplicities of life still remain. The fountain of youth IS the essence of our own youths we’ve suppressed as time has passed. The child within is the love, happiness, excitement, and exuberance within us all. The most valuable lessons are often not found in textbooks or lectures. Recently, my most cherished lesson has come from a bright-eyed, highly-animated, curly blonde haired five year old that melted my heart to a puddle on the floor as she threw her arms around me and said “I love you.” 

Everybody Poops!

Clothing labels, the number of zeros on a paycheck, type of car, the amount of square footage of property- none of these things define who someone really is. Strip away all the glitz, the objective possessions, the social notoriety and to a certain degree, we are all the same. Our basic needs of food, water, oxygen and rest are all consistent across the board, as long as the genus is human. On a contemplative hike with a girlfriend on today’s beautiful morning, we both agreed that the core equality amongst all people can be summarized in the most simplistic, toddler-level statement thateverybody poops.

With all that is available in the world to class up or trash down a person’s image, a hierarchical ladder of social status is created, entitling one person to be deemed as more superior than another. On such a superficial scale, judgments are passed on people, making them sub/super human based on the goodness of what they own, rather than the goodness of their souls. When taken down to the basic degree, the glamorously famed Jennifer Lopez is no different than non-celebrity-status, simplistic ol’ me!

My point in this realization is to vow to never let anyone make me feel sub-par to them. I’ve reached a point where I am tired of defending my non-partying ways, the enjoyment I get from a Saturday night spent quietly indoors with a good movie or novel, the need for a full eight hours of sleep resulting in a before-midnight bedtime (whether it be a weekday or not), etc… I am tired of the judgment for not being the typical twenty-something year old girl that stays out late on the weekends and frequents bars or house parties. I am done allowing people to make me feel I am not acting the way I should be- as if there were an officiated social-life timeline I was veering from.

The matter of letting go of the innateneedto be accepted by others is surpassed by theactual needto fully accept myself. I have absolutely no say in how others perceive me, but I do control how I perceive my situation. My peace will not come from trying to prove that the collective “they” are no better than I. My peace will come when I realize that I am no less a person than the collective “them.” Although seemingly the same statement, the latterputs me in the driver seat(not the greatest analogy, given the roughed up state of my car).

My energy would be wasted if I tried to preach such a mature theory of the universal human need of waste elimination, but I can change my thought energy by fully understanding it for myself. So, the next time I find my automatic self-defending response to “Why don’t you just have one drink?” or “What are you doing home on a Friday night?” I will not allow that person to make me feel like I have to prove my legitimacy as a 24 year old single woman. Instead, I will smile, shrug my shoulders, remind myself that everyone, including my judger, poops, and contently announce, “that’s just me!”

Out of My Own Way

Dizzy and seeing stars, I gasped for air, gulping it down, causing my stomach to churn, ebbing on nausea. I regained the slightest bit of composure, watched the timer count the last second of the interval and hopped back on to the speedily-rolling belt of the treadmill, grasping for any last bit of motivation I could to complete the high intensity interval training run I had set out to accomplish. With ten seconds left of my final uphill sprint, I wondered if I could finish. I contemplated cutting the last stretch short… “It’s only ten seconds less than what you had wanted to do. What’s the difference?”

Fueled by anger towards the fact that a voice of such negativity and dishonor even existed within me, I dashed out the last ten seconds and pushed myself to sprint another ten. I wasn’t punishing myself for toying with the idea of cheating myself out of my workout- a negative cannot and should not be corrected by another negative. Instead, the added sixth of a minute, although barely conquered with teeth ground shut, served to prove that my limits were not as limiting as I had thought.

Harder this time, I sucked in as much air as my lungs would allow, aware that I was “that person” in the gym with the audible working-out soundtrack blasting “Erika’s Inhale-Exhale” on repeat. Hidden in the pained wince of my face was also a subtle smile from the pride i felt for getting through it all.

As I dismounted from the treadmill, I felt a buzzing energy in my legsthat I could easily have mistaken for/settled to call fatigue. My aim was to push my abilities to high levels and my wobbly legs were proof that I had met that. Much like the positive pain I referred to in a previous post, the soreness in the muscles of my legs was welcomed and earned. To the uninvited negativity that nearly made me quit before I was ready to, I vow to raise my personal bar even higher, yet, partially as a mockery of the nay-saying voice… try and stop me now.

Body Love

As I sat in the sun, basking in its warming rays, I imagined I was a flower soaking in the nutrients that would make me bloom brightly. Much like a flower, sun exposure bodes well for the human body, regulating internal rhythms, boosting feel-good brain chemicals and allowing vitamin D to be produced. As thankful as I am for warmer weather and the giant star in the sky, I realized something more meaningful.

Without effort, if the body does as it should, the aforementioned benefits are automatically reaped from the sunlight. I don’t have to process the sunshine’s rays in any way nor do I even have to be conscious about absorbing the sunlight. From this, I developed a deeper appreciation for the complexities of my body in its daily tasks to simply keep me alive.

Those that have studied anatomy and biology understand the intricate inner workings of the human body and everything that it does on any given moment. It’s so easy to take it all for granted and end up abusing our bodies by not feeding it well, not moving and giving it proper exercise, not allowing it to rest and relax on a regular basis… then of course there are the more obvious offenders such as excessive alcohol, chemicals, tobacco, etc. 

This post will remain short and sweet because intuitively, I’d like to think we all know what is best for our bodies- I will spare the lecture that was in the works. Eat right, exercise, 7-9 hours of sleep, adequate hydration, yada yada.. I know, you know, we all know. So to cut to the chase, the body is an amazing machine. Appreciate it, love it, treat it well because it is the only one you will ever be given!

Trying Something New

Normally, I take Mondays off from the gym, giving my body at least a day’s rest from training as recovery is just as important as the actual workout. Particularly sore from another intense Sunday morning Body Combat class, I woke up this morning with every intention of allowing my muscles to relax.

On weekday afternoons, I’m a mother’s helper, taking care of 2 teenage boys. As I read over the day’s to-do notes left by their mom, I noticed that at 5pm, I would be driving one of the boys to a restaurant that happened to be only a few miles from my gym.

(Side realization: My gym is a 20 minute drive from my house, without traffic. Calculating the math, I spend an average of 240 minutes, or 4 hours commuting to and from the gym. Usually not a fan of driving, these 4 hours are well worth it, even when there are at least 5 other gyms within a 10 minute drive from my home.)

Hoping to make the most of my drive, I decided to challenge my body a little harder  and temporarily push off recovery day. Then, I realized that I would finally be able to make it to Zumba at my gym- a class that I had never been able to fit in to my schedule! As a new instructor, I try to sample as many other instructors’ classes as I can, so I was excited, even though my muscles were screaming for the night off.

Never one to half-ass a workout, I quieted the nagging soreness of my fatigued muscles and gave the hour-long class my all (which wasn’t a difficult task as I fed off the high energies of the wonderful instructor and the other members in the class). I was even lucky enough to be invited up on stage for two different tracks! I left the class dripping with sweat and smiling from ear to ear, my spirits soaring high. 

As I sit here at the end of my day, every muscle from my neck to my toes ache and plead me to take tomorrow to rest and recover (which I fully intend to!). Although giving gratitude towards my body is no unique subject in this blog, it is something I hope to consistently do. It is far too easy to take for granted the endless abilities of an able body and I hope that this thankfulness is not one I would have to wait to know of once it’s gone. On this same note, I hope to practice kindness towards my body, treating it with grateful respect. There are different types of muscle-aches, even though they all register as pain. The pain from when I all-too-often twist an ankle or the pain during a six-month recovery from long-thoracic nerve palsy are unpleasantly unwelcome; but the pain from challenging the limits of my body… tearing down muscle so it can grow back stronger… though still making me wince from time to time, is a pleasant reminder that with hard work, my able body can accept the challenge, rise to it, and take it on like the ninja I am. Ki-yah! 

Mommy

Ah, Mother’s Day- a day to honor and give thanks to the mom’s that birthed us, the women that raised us, the ladies that led the way. Thirsty after another incredible workout at the gym, I made a quick stop at the drugstore for a cold drink. I pushed through throngs of people scrambling to buy last minute bouquets of roses and Hallmark cards, frustrated that the cold beverage fridge was all the way in the back of the store. As lovely as it was to see so many people making some kind of effort to not show up to mom’s empty-handed, I couldn’t help but notice the obvious- that “Mother’s Day,” like many other holidays, is very much a hyped up Hallmark moneymaker.

Yes, it is nice to have a special day to highlight these undeniably amazing women in our lives. Truth be told, when I become a mom, I hope my kids smother me with extra love on the 2nd Sunday of every May. I do understand the purpose of the day itself; much like birthdays, it’s a way to give extra recognition and appreciation where it is aptly due. As I waited in the long checkout line among customers with arms filled with teddy bears and boxes of chocolates, I began to wonder how much the knickknacks and bow adorned gifts distracted from the true meaning of the day.

I spoke to a few mothers today, asking what they hoped their special day held for them. Not once did I hear them pray for lavish presents or exotic floral arrangements (although I’m certain they wouldn’t object to receiving them… I know I wouldn’t!). What I did hear, accompanied by twinkling eyes and broad smiles, was the excitement these mommies had overspending time with their families. Even the instances I heard about mothers covering the expense of dining out with their children, these women still beamed through their playful scoffs at the prospect of spending rare quality time with their loved ones.

The “stuff,” although fun and thoughtful, isn’t the important part of these holidays. What is more significant is what isn’t produced by Hallmark or sold on shelves- the feeling of being appreciated, the novelty of being celebrated and the reminder of how much they are loved are all what is most memorably heart warming. I guess you could equate this to the age old saying that “it’s the thought that counts.”

Hopefully this one day per year not only reminds us all of how thankful we ought to be for the mom’s in our lives, but also is not the only day we choose to express this amorous gratitude. In half an hour, when the holiday officially ends, my gloriously high-strung mother will still deserve the same amount of gratitude, love and recognition as she does right now. Sure, tomorrow she won’t come downstairs to a printed greeting card or hear “Happy Mother’s Day” from the family, but I intend to make sure that even though “her day” is over, her importance is still recognized. As the vibrant Mother’s Day bouquet wilt in the vase over the next few days, the love, respect and appreciation for my mom will continue to bloom brightly, long after the last petal withers and falls to the ground.

I love you, Mommy- today, tomorrow and always.

Uphill

The repetitive movement of running sets a perfect stage for meditative serenity. The steady tempo of foot-to-pavement strikes in cadence with the sound of air filling the lungs and circling out again. In this mental peace, thoughts come and go freely- an ideal environment to absorb any lessons being sent my way.

On a recent, particularly hilly run, the world presented me with teachings so pertinent to my disposition at the time that it was clear that life happens with purpose- it is not all random. About two miles through, I looked out in front of me to a stretch of road that seemed nearly vertical. I felt a flighty sense of panic as I momentarily considered the options of turning around or choosing a different path. I suddenly recognized this defeatist attitude as a reflection of habitually quitting when faced with seemingly large challenges. As the past has proven, failing to follow through when things get tough only presents me with pangs of regret and self-disappointment.What would my life be like had I not cowered when obstacles obscured my visions? How difficult would it really have been to tackle the proverbial mountains in my way?

If I chose to avoid that steep hill by turning around or choosing an alternative path, I would have compromised my deliberately planned route. I would have robbed myself of the inevitable sense of pride that would have come from following through with my original plan. The choice was obvious as I realized that, amongst distracting myself with reminiscing and lesson learning, I had been steadily making my way up the hill, anyways. With the simple motion of placing one foot in front of the other, focusing only on the next step immediately in front of me, the hill that seemed so intimidatingly impossible at first was disappearing behind me as I edged towards the top.

Before the next song even came on through my iPod, I had passed the peak of the hill, my hamstrings and calves enjoying the rewarding downhill slope that followed. How silly I felt to have even considered changing my path, all to avoid a (relatively small) uphill stretch of pavement. It was then I realized that the (only) way to take on, tackle and overcome any challenge is to take it one step at a time. Any hardship has the ability to be paralyzingly intimidating when looked at in its entirety; but breaking the daunting hill down and focusing only on what is manageable in the moment strips it of its debilitating powers, making anything seem 100% possible. 

Serenity

Every which way, there is a lesson to be learned if you’re ready to receive it. The other day I was in the supermarket, walking down the breakfast cereal isle. A mother was shopping with her son sitting in the cart and I happened to tune in mid-conversation.

“Mama, you ain’t the boss of me!”

I glanced over at the child, thinking to myself, “what a brat!” What this child said next was so profoundly deep, even in its simplicity, that it transformed him from a snotty little boy to a miniature Buddha- “You ain’t the boss of no one, only yourself!” Immediately, my scowl turned to awe as I looked at him, wondering if he knew the depth of the words he just spoke.

Regardless of if he meant it on a deeper level or not, the little boy’s words stuck with me for the rest of the day. He may have just been back-talking to his mother, refusing to do something she had asked him to or continuing to do something she asked him to stop, but the weight of those last words I heard him say stopped me in my tracks as if he were saying it for me to hear.

No matter what he meant by it, I interpreted his words as a simplistic version of the Serenity Prayer- a mantra I strive to live by.

“Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference”

We can easily drive ourselves insane trying to conduct our worlds around us. We can get frustrated when things don’t go our way or when people don’t change to adapt to our likings. These frustrations will plague us forever, though, if we truly think we can control them- we can’t! The absolute only thing that we, as mortal beings, have control over is ourselves! Once we realize this ultimate truth and take responsibility for it, so much stress dissipates as the self-imposed weight of the world is lifted away.

It is empowering to know and claim control over yourself. Blame, anger, disappointment- all dissolve once the realization is made that the choice of how to react to something and how to handle it is claimed by you.

When I feel defeated and think that nothing will ever go my way, I reassess what is making me feel this way. More often than not, there is another angle from which to look at the situation in which I can reclaim control. I may not be powerful enough to control anyone else around me, but I sure do know that I harness the almighty power of controlling the things I do, the words I say and the way I react to my world around me.

Body Viving and Dropping the Ball

Saturday 4/28

It’s no secret that the gym is a favorite place of mine. Saturday, I rushed out to my gym at a particularly early 8:45 in the morning to make it to a featured master class, Body Vive. Inevitably, there will be many future posts on things I am grateful for pertaining to my gym, but on this day, I learned how thankful I was to be able to laugh at myself.

When trying new things, there is always a learning curve where mistakes will be made and perfection is not expected. Thank goodness! Growing up, I constantly felt the pressure to never make a mistake and carried the expectation to be perfect (now, I understand my parents’ intentions were to push me to reach my highest potential, not to cause me stress… yet another thing I am thankful for, in retrospect). This forgiveness to err that I’ve adopted towards myself was much called for during Body Vive’s 55 minutes of new steps and movements.

Regardless of my unfamiliarity with the class, I took a spot, front and center, directly face-to-face with the instructor, my Body Vive ball within reach. My first thought was “Gosh, I hope I don’t drop that ball and make a fool of myself!” Of course, the self-fulfilled prophecy that it had become, not only did I drop my ball once, but lost it a second time! Initially, I felt embarrassed as I chased the ball as it rolled passed other less-butterfingers-prone Body Vivers, thinking I was probably the only klutz that lost her squishy, purple ball. I laughed it off and fell back in to formation.

A few steps later, we were instructed on a new move that had us turning in different directions, in (what was meant to be) unison. My feet fumbled beneath me as I mis-stepped, mis-turned, and mis-Vived.  Much to my delight, it seemed most of the room joined me in my confusion as we crashed into each other and bobbed when we should have weaved. At that moment, I unclenched my useless grip on attempted perfection and released it with a wave of laughter. Truth of the matter was, most people in the classroom that morning were just as new to the program as I was. I was NOT the only one making mistakes, stepping left when told to pivot right. But, I was the only one that thought my self-described epic errors made any difference!

After I realized the normalcy of my mistakes, I allowed myself to laugh at my missteps. I was able to enjoy myself as much as everyone else was enjoying the wonderful class and got an added ab workout from all the laughter. If I can’t laugh at my own mistakes, then I impose a sentence on myself to take life far too seriously. I guess you could say that on Saturday morning, in my first Body Vive experience, I learned a valuable life lesson to be grateful for the ability to laugh at myself, all stemming from dropping the ball- twice!

Lessons From Teenagers

For the past 16 months, I have been a nanny/mother’s helper to two teenage boys. I must admit, it is a cushy job- No diapers to change, no disastrous messes to clean up after and, lucky enough, both boys have hearts of gold with stellar behaviors. The only nuisance I have to deal with every once in a while is to break up the occasional fight over whose turn it is to walk to puppy (to which I often end up taking responsibility for, myself). 

Over the short period I’ve known and cared for these kids, I have seen them take on new challenges and grow through them. I watched as the younger boy graduated from middle school and entered his first year of high school. I observed as his older brother stressed over SATs and college prep, went through hours of driving lessons and, most recently, got his drivers license.  

No doubt, I am grateful for the job I have that supplements my income as I grow my YOUfit brand, but today’s post is about more than the gratitude I have for this part time job. Seeing these boys five days a week for hours each day, I feel like I have become part-time mom to them. This in itself continues to reveal valuable lessons on a daily basis, but today my eyes were opened to something I was told I could never understand until I had children of my own…

The older of the two boys was given instruction and permission by his mother to drive to the store to pick up a birthday cake for his brother. Instinctually, I wanted to ride along with him to make sure he would be okay. Not wanting to insult or undermine his newfound ability to drive, I resisted. My next thought was to discretely follow him with my car, remaining a mile behind, unknownst to him. Again, I resisted.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that he was a highly cautious teenager. I would not have to worry about his wreckless driving- it was the other nuts on the road I was worried about, after all. As he grabbed the keys and checked for money in his wallet, I found myself demanding his undivided attention as I instructed him to “be careful and make sure to text me as soon as he got back home to let me know he was ok.” At that moment, I recognized my parents’ words coming out of my mouth…

When I first learned to drive, I rolled my eyes every time my dad always sent me off with a reminder to be careful. I brushed off the importance of letting my mom know when I got to the mall okay. I was a typical kid! But, here I was, feeding this teenage boy the same exact parental lines I had scoffed at just years ago. Suddenly, they didn’t seem so laughable.

I got to the gym, where I still am now, and watched the clock. I went to and from the locker room, checking my phone for a text that said I could stop worrying. Thirty minutes passed… nothing. An hour passed… still nothing. Finally, I called him to ease my nerves. Oblivious to my concerns, he casually picked up his phone, thankfully alive. I breathed a sigh of relief, gave him a half hearted scold for not texting me when he got back to the house, hung up and finished my workout. Sure, kids will be kids, but eventually, we all grow up and, hopefully, if we’re lucky, we get the opportunity to see things from the perspectives of our silly, overbearing parents.