Leap of Faith

I've never been big on change. It's too unsettling, and it takes me a long time to get my equilibrium back. So when I contemplate making a really big change--a life-altering change that would make pretty much everything different, for better or for worse, it really is nothing short of jumping off a cliff and hoping for the best. A leap of faith. I've never been one to see the adventure in such a pursuit. I'm guessing you have to be slightly more optimistic a person than I am to embrace the unknown with excitement rather than with paralyzing uncertainty. Instead, what I usually do is talk about doing x, y, or z endlessly, weighing the pros and cons and never actually taking any steps toward making a decision. Ask Dean, and he'll tell you how many conversations he has to endure each week about something as benign as which days of the week I should plan to work out.

This was a topic of conversation with a friend of mine recently, who posited that it only gets harder to take such leaps as you get older (not the going to the gym leap, which I actually do sometimes get around to making a decision about, but the bigger, life-changing leaps). All the talk about leaping got me to thinking about an e-mail I got yesterday.

Via Facebook from a friend of mine who has a son in kindy:

Just thought you should know that I heard Ella and M have been jumping off of high things trying to break their arms like L.

Now I'd heard this same thing from M's mom on Friday. And when I asked Ella (who I really, really thought was smarter than that) about it, Ella said, "M is doing it! Not me!" Okay, fine. Then I got this e-mail yesterday, and Ella now claimed "I WAS doing it before but I'm NOT anymore!" The tears started when I threatened to e-mail Ella's teacher and ask that Ella not be allowed out at recess anymore. I mean, what the hell? How do you protect a child that makes such stupid choices?

Of course, Ella's main concern for the rest of the night was who told me. And then she was really worried that "everyone would be talking" about this. Well...I don't know. If you are throwing yourself off things in the hopes of breaking a BONE, I'm not sure I understand why you'd object to being talked about. Just saying. I've never heard of anything so stupid in all my life. I took the opportunity to point out that the things Ella does get back to me in a variety of ways. I'm friends with the parents of a lot of her friends. We're living in a pretty tight little community now, and the parents talk--not in a bad way but in a "it takes a village" kind of way. Just think of how handy that will be when this child is in high school!

I have now spent about 12 hours explaining to Ella that A) A broken arm hurts and requires a trip to the emergency room, and B) When your arm is in a cast, you can not go swimming, which means she'll spend the entire summer in street clothes while the rest of us are in the pool. Hopefully I made an impression. I can pretty much guarantee that this wasn't Ella's idea to begin with, but what can you do? Sigh.

(Editor's Note: Please don't mention this to Ella as I've already spoken to her about it, and I'd rather not make it a bigger deal than it needs to be.)