When I grow up...

"...   I wanna be famous  

I wanna be a star, I wanna be in movies

When I grow up, I wanna see the world

Drive nice cars, I wanna have boobies..." (I feel like I've got that last one covered.)

Sorry Pussycat Dolls, with the exception of "see the world", I want nothing that y'all have sung so horribly about. I do have things that I've yet to accomplish, and thanks to the Olympics I keep having flashbacks of me at 9 years-old. (Can I just say how much I LOVE the Olympics?! Not enough to spend an obscene amount on event tickets, but I did wear my London Hard Rock Cafe shirt for the opening ceremonies. I wanted to make crumpets and curry but Spouse thought otherwise.)  

It was the 1996 Atlanta Summer Games and I was just getting "serious" about softball. As serious as a little person can be. I was obsessed with Dot Richardson and the USA Women's Softball team. I stayed up to watch the live coverage and countless plays that lead to their gold medal. I also remember getting emotional watching Kerri Strug land a ONE-FOOTED vault to help the women's gymnastic team win gold over Russia. Amazing! (If you were born under a rock and have no clue what I'm talking about, watch this and feel more patriotic.) 

One trip to the grocery store, shortly after America quit pretending we care about gymnastics and platform diving for 8 weeks at a time, I was pestering my mother to buy my beloved Berry Kix cereal and I saw Kerri on a Wheaties box. Something clicked in my head, "I want to be on a Wheaties box one day." Laugh it up, but I was serious. Thus began my journey to Wheaties boxdom. I spent countless summers playing for "accelerated", "select" and high school softball teams, getting super hot tan lines, 

Does anyone rollerblade anymore?

wearing down cartilage in my knees and shoulder. I was fortunate enough to win a lot of games and tournaments, traveling to a lot of different ball fields, having my moment in the sun. Literally. Two weeks after high school graduation, I was in Virginia having a private try-out for a spot on the school's softball team. I was offered not only a position, but a scholarship on the spot. After choking on my Gatorade, I told the coach I'd "think about it," like I'm a coveted athlete; the missing piece to a championship team or the next person to have an Easton bat named after me. I can be as delusional as I want...I digress. Long story short, I turned the offer down and went out west to play for another school, that I left after attending only one semester. I managed to play one more season at another school, but not at my dream institution of UCLA. Life just had other plans for me I believe. Actually, God did. Circumstances out of my control brought me back home and I never made it to the Beijing 2008 Olympics like I had planned. I haven't made it on a Wheaties box either. 

I have NO doubt that I have/had the ability to live out my dreams and get my medal. (Actually, I can never do that. Thanks to the Olympic Committee, women's softball is no longer an Olympic event. Shame on them!) I also have no doubt that my life is just as full without my face on a Wheaties box or a medal on my shelf. Through a series of teaching moments, I have come to the realization that I love my sport too much. I would have sacrificed EVERYTHING to get where and what I wanted. Be it my family, friends, religion or social life, ALL would have (and often did) take a backseat to softball. So in a weird way, I'm grateful I didn't get what I wanted. I have rich relationships with many loved ones. I have not had to undergo knee-replacement surgery, yet. I have been married to a pretty neat guy and we've had a lot of great times together. I've even been fortunate enough to figure out what I really want to be when I grow up: happy. So here's to that journey! I'll let you know when I arrive.

In the mean time, I'll be content with watching others ascend to their dreams....and ogling and drooling over the German men's gymnastic team (i.e. Philipp Boy. Swoon!) Many high fives and shady hand shakes to Buzzfeed for having a "bonus section" dedicated to him exclusively. 

Lettuce drool: 

this...

                                   and this...

                                                  

                                                                            

and this.

Danke, Deutschland!