Now that I am permanently toting around a mini me, I find myself becoming more and more risk averse. Not that I was living on the edge so much before, but now I can hardly bring myself to look over it. Earlier today, I watched two people (of course, I assumed men--bad gendered thinking) swimming incredibly far out in the ocean. I was so nervous, I made us stay on the beach long enough to see them come safely onto the shore. I just don't see that happening for me anymore (ignoring the fact that on my best day, I probably couldn't get halfway to where they were-that whole holding your breath thing is so tedious). At this point, I'm starting to realize that scuba diving, sky diving...basically all manner of diving is off the table along with any other thrill-seeking activities.
A few years ago, I watched a documentary about people who climb Mt. Everest. While I was impressed with their determination and amazing stamina, the whole time I kept thinking "Are these people effing nuts??" Some of the climbers lost fingers and/or toes to frostbite and even watched others die during the trek. Why is climbing a mountain worth risking your life? And, I'll never understand why there are so many people skiing/boarding without helmets, but riding right next to their kids who are wearing them. Talk about setting a good example. Surely there are better ways to achieve the windswept look.
Perhaps this is just a new mom phase that I'll grow out of once I create more separation between me and him (roughly, what, 25 years these days?) I also think it might have something to do with getting older and knowing so many folks who are struggling to maintain their health and well-being. I suppose every action poses inherent risks and it's all about finding the balance between potential pleasure and potential pain. On some level, I feel like it's just selfish to tempt fate when it's been pretty good to me so far.