I've always tried to live my life without regret by doing the things that I enjoyed or wanted to do...most of the time with complete disregard for the risk involved and possible consequences to life and limb, etc. If you ask my Mom, i'm sure she'd describe me as a daredevil from the day I was born. As far back as I can remember, I was an active kid that liked doing "dangerous" stuff. While other kids were content to just swing on a swing set the way it was intended, I was the kid that would swing on the swing set as high as possible and then jump off at the highest point of the swing for the rush I got from falling back to the ground. I was the kid that jumped off the high porch/deck of my parents house holding an umbrella to see if it would slow me down like a parachute (it didn't). I mean...it worked in the cartoons, right?! I was the kid that liked jumping out of our tree house for fun.
Naturally, as I got older that daredevil streak led me to adrenaline sports and activities like snowboarding, downhill mountain biking, bodyboarding, martial arts, paintball, sport bikes, etc. If there was a thrill to be had, I wanted to try it. I was curious about bungee jumping so I tried it (and COMPLETELY freaked out my Mom when I told her I did). I think the only thing that I never got a chance to try (but still totally would if the opportunity presented itself) was sky diving.
Over the years though, I have definitely paid for that daredevil streak with my body. I've definitely broken my fair share of bones and injured myself many times over the years. In fact, I think i've broken a bone or 2 on every limb of my body at some point in my life. I've broken my right arm, my left shoulder, my left ankle, my right shin bone, and multiple knuckles on both hands (probably more than once)...and that doesn't include the multitude of sprains, strains, and other random injuries i've sustained over the years. Oh, and I even have had abdominal hernia surgery to repair a hernia that was likely the result of crashing my first motorcycle. Through it all though, I never once thought about changing the way I did things. I never once had second thoughts about the things I did....until now.
At the time, my Mom always expressed her concern. She always told me, "Be Careful, Anak!" and I never gave it much thought. I just brushed it off as the typical "Mommy" worries. I never really thought about what I actually must have put my Mom though with all my daredevil-ing...all the heart-ache and worry that I must have put her through; worrying if i'm going to seriously injure (or even kill) myself while I was out doing the things I liked doing. It must have been torture for her. I'm pretty sure that I was probably the cause for a lot of black hairs on her head to turn grey with worry. Sadly, it's only now that I have kids of my own that I get it. It's only now that I really get the shit I put my mom through.
Our first kid, our daughter Lucy is pretty "safe". She isn't much of a risk taker. Our son Ollie, on the other hand very much takes after daddy. He's only al little under 3 years old and he already likes jumping off of anything he can. He jumps off our bed, he jumps off our couch. He likes to hurl himself anywhere he can (most of the time leading with his head), and honestly it drives me NUTS. He's already had an incident at pre-school where he was excited to go play, pulled away from his teacher, and wiped out on the stairs smacking his face, causing a deep laceration on his forehead. For that he was awarded with 2 stitches and a scar.
Adding to this is the fact that he doesn't listen. I can tell him not to jump off of stuff till i'm blue in the face, but it doesn't matter...he'll keep on doing it. But, why would I expect him not to? Did I listen to my Mom when she told me not to jump out of the treehouse? Nope. Did I listen to my Mom when she told me motorcycles were dangerous? Nope. Even after I crashed my first one and almost killed myself, I still bought another one...a bigger, badder, and faster one. So, why would I think my son, who's apparently as hard-headed as me, would be any different? I guess this really IS an example of the chickens coming home to roost. Payback really IS a Bitch. :)
So, in hindsight, I wanted to apologize to my Mom. I am so sorry for everything that I put you though. For the heartache, for the worry. It's only fair that I was destined to have the same happen to me with my own kids. That's the universe's way of teaching me a lesson....one that I won't soon forget. Mom, thank you for putting up with all my s**t all these years. I'm sorry for all the grey hairs and sleepless nights I must have caused you.
To my wife, Polly...I apologize for dragging you into this with me. I foresee a long road ahead with the little boy, so I apologize now for passing on my stubbornness and pension for danger and adventure. I know in the years to come he'll probably cause us much worry and heartache...much like I did to my Mom, and for that I apologize in advance to you. Please forgive me. :)
