Who knew I needed preteen perspective?

June 3, 2013

A group of 11-year old boys gave me perspective this weekend without even realizing it.

They arrived expecting to win a baseball game, but instead lost. They jogged across the infield to shake the opposition’s hands.

They did something that many adults, including myself, struggle to do. After failing to achieve a desired goal, THEY MOVED ON.

Defeated one moment, laughing the next.

wiffle ball rocks

Little brothers and sisters got in on some wiffle ball action after the game.

I catch myself allowing external forces to affect my mood. I know I have the power to control my level of happiness, but boy is it easy to blame outside influences versus questioning myself.

Any of these scenarios resonate with you too?

I would have worked out had it not been for that meeting. (Guess what? No such constraints exist at the break of dawn.)

I ate a crappy lunch because it was fast and easy. (Also because I chose not to go to the grocery store to pick up healthier options.)

It’s hard to find time to write. (Especially when you factor in Facebook and Hulu surfing – neither of which help with writing.)

It’s time to stop dumping on excuses.

Dump your drama someplace else.

Dump your drama someplace else.

Here are a couple reminders for all of us to stop, reflect, and make the most out of this beautiful adventure we call life.

Incidentally, both made me cry today (yep, I’m a certifiable sap).


Created by Heidi Woodard

2 responses to Who knew I needed preteen perspective?


    Oh, if only we all could move on that fast! I think it’s the concession stand. Lose a game, eat a hot dog, play some wiffle ball. I move for concession stands and wiffle ball fields to be installed in all places of business! All those in favor? Excellent points, by the way. I’ve been trying to stop with the excuses too. It’s HARD!


      Admitting I have excuses is the first step, right? Concession stands are overpriced junk food…and I keep coming back for more! Because you can’t pass up hot dogs and pop at a baseball game. It’s like fight club. As I’m shoveling food in my face, I look at the other moms/dads and we just have that understanding.

      Sent from my iPhone