My whole family likes to watch those video conglomerations where people do stupid stuff like faceplant off their unicycle and flip their cars into dumpsters. They have to talk me into joining them because I see nothing funny about watching people have possibly the worst day of their life. Tonight we watched a clip that started out with a bunch of beautiful young people in a hot tub (I immediately start looking for clowns hiding in the bushes or someone about to jump in from the roof). I hate that sense of impending doom! They're laughing and I want to warn them they statistically have less than three seconds before their fun implodes.
...or in this case explodes in a cloud of brown water as one poor girl clutches her stomach and you realize she is really quite ill (you've never seen a hot tub vacated so fast).
This is the problem with life. You never know when your super awesome "Spring Break" in Cancun will end with some bad tacos and you having to change your name and find all new friends. Just sayin'.
As someone with an overactive introverted brain trapped in an extroverted happy body, it's a constant battle to go through life imagining every possible outcome and yet still risk it open handedly.
Case in point, I was listening to a podcast today on the dangers of not letting children play unattended (beware of intended double negative). In theory, (and like most primates) children's' brains need lots of hours in the sunshine figuring out how the world and human interaction works. A child in 2017 gets less outdoor play time than an institutionalized patient in the 1950's. The problem is it's a lot harder to get in that prime time than it would seem. I'm lucky enough to have a fenced in backyard and a husband who pays for it all so I can teach the basic R's and pray I don't screw it all up somehow. Right now we have roofers trying to squeeze in an entire new roof before California drifts away in a flood. Which is wonderful...Charlie won't have to sleep with a bucket next to his head, but I have to wear my watch on the wrong wrist, and remind myself over and over that if I hear the back door unlock or open... RUN! (Because the two year old is fast and there are ladders involved in roofing).
I try really hard to juggle it all, but sometimes it's almost a relief when a virus sweeps in and knocks everyone off their feet. Wednesday found us all bundled up on the couch with fevers, tea and tissue (and by "tea" I mean force feeding them elderberry and echinacea). We were too sick to do school, but not sick enough for me to acquiesce to Vultron so we binge watched National Geographic instead.
Which means we can add baby seals being eaten by killer whales to the list of things I don't like to watch. But guess what new show they all clamored for this morning? National Geographic.
I better get at least one marine biologist or orthopedic surgeon from all of this.