Who’s really missing out?

I just turned down another offer to go out this weekend. This one was to play pickup volleyball at a local watering hole. I said, “No thanks. I’ll be sitting at home, sad that I’m not playing and feeling like I’m missing out.” Not really true, but it made her feel good. The truth is, I’ll be at home with my family.

If Donnie and I were to play tonight, I’d have to get a babysitter and those are pretty hard to come by. We’ve worn out Grandmas and we’re already asking my sister to watch the kids on Sunday.

It’s difficult to do anything that’s not “family friendly.” It feels like we are constantly asking for help, here and there and three days next week. And if we’re not, we’re just “missing out.” Eventually, our old friends have stopped asking us to go out. We’re not really a big part of the group anymore.

Sometimes, it bothers me. I do miss the days when we could come and go as we pleased. And, I know those days will come again. I’m in no hurry for them. Even though we sometimes feel tied down, I still love it. I love spending time with my kids.

And when I see all the Facebook posts capturing “Heaven on Earth” and “I got my two loves: volleyball and beer” with a bunch of friends, I sorta laugh to myself and think, “They don’t even know what love is.”


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