To Jump or Not To Jump... That is the Question

Saturday night is my oasis in the desert. It's what keeps me going during the week -- date night. That is, unless our built-in babysitters have other arrangements, like an etiquette dinner at the church.

So instead of cracking peanuts at Texas Roadhouse we spent last night with our three younger children at the boat show downtown, looking at yachts worth twice as much as our house, prying kids off the inflatable trampolines, and turning down eager time-share salesmen.

That night I couldn't get wakeboarding off my mind. Maybe it was the action video we paused to watch, but I realized just how much I miss it. Suddenly something seemed to connect in my mind.

My life is just like wakeboarding.

Much of the time I am only treading water, not going anywhere, just taking life easy until some opportunity comes along that I can grab hold of. I often do "miss the boat", but if I'm lucky it comes back around with it's ever-elusive rope in tow.

When I do finally grab hold of that rope, and say "hit it!", things change a bit. Life becomes more of a struggle, there are things I need to figure out, like how to get my board (or household) facing the right direction and stay straight. All the forces are pushing against me, trying to hold me back, but somehow I know if I can just overcome them and get up on plane, things will be smooth sailing for a while, and the rewards will be worth the effort. I can move forward.

.

Soon I'm up on plane and feeling good. I get a feel for the water, and may even decide to try some tricks.

.

For example, after I had my third child I felt like we had this parenting thing down pat. Life was sailing smoothly. I figured I could handle more kids easily, since I was a pro now, and soon number four was on his way.

.

Unfortunately, new tricks often lead to a humbling crash, and I found myself smacked back in the water. This new child's first 5 weeks of life were spent in the NICU, and his health condition was not conducive to the sleep schedule that was so effective with the last child. Treading water again, I began looking for that rope.

.

It's a continual cycle... just when I think I'm doing good, the waters get rough and I'm smacked down with another move, another baby, a new health problem, and I have to start over again. It's very humbling.

.

This has been the case this last year. Life almost seemed to be too good to be true in Minnesota, I had a season pass lined up at the local ski resort and I was going to take Ella skiing every day this winter. My dream come true. Then the arthritis hit, leaving me hardly able to get out of bed in the morning, and our move put us 10 hours away from the ski resort. My season pass arrived in the mail and has been nothing more than a depressing desk ornament.

.

On the bright side, I'm almost "up on plane" again, enough to start thinking about putting the kids in Little League and piano lessons. I even have my menus planned out for the week and my house is clean... but I'm wary. I know this is such a fragile state, that I should be careful not to take too much on, because it can all change overnight.

.

So do I attempt to jump the wake and take on new challenges, risking a short yet exhilarating ride ... or do I just try to stay upright for as long as I can untill I either crash from pure exhaustion, or let go out of neverending boredom?

.

Do I pick up that paint brush, that woodworking project, that neglected blog, or maybe even in a few months -- that wakeboard?

What would you do?

.

.