My husband was out of town this weekend for the University of Miami Homecoming game. Let’s just say… his passion for that team runs deep. Like, “Sebastian the Ibis is his Lock Screen photo” deep. Meanwhile, mine? Our wedding day. If that tells you anything. (Love you, babe!)
Anyway, with him gone, it was just me and our four-year-old for the weekend. I decided we’d make the most of it and try a few new adventures.
First stop: bowling. His first time, my first time regretting how much a half dozen games cost when your kid suddenly wants to become a professional bowler. He loved it. I loved watching him love it (and yes, I used the bumpers, too).
Next up: NOVA Wild, a zoo-petting-zoo-safari situation where somehow I ended up feeding all the animals while my child held the bucket and grinned at the animals. Teamwork, right?
And then we wrapped the weekend with a Water Circus by Cirque Italia at National Harbor—a show that involved water and traffic that somehow turned a 20-minute drive into an hour-plus meditation practice. Deep breaths. Many, many deep breaths.
Once we finally got there, it was pure magic. I was nervous at first—my kiddo has some noise sensitivity, so the bright lights and booming sounds can be tricky—but he rocked it with his headphones on and eyes wide open the whole time.
It was my first “Cirque du Soleil”-like show, and wow. As a group fitness trainer, I was blown away by the sheer control, strength, and core stability on display. (If you’ve ever held a plank for more than 30 seconds, you know what I’m talking about.)
But the thing that really got me? They fell. They missed. They stumbled. And then—they did it again.
They didn’t sulk, they didn’t quit, they didn’t skip ahead. They smiled, reset, and tried again… in front of hundreds of people. I don’t know if any of it was planned (it is Cirque, after all), but it was powerful to watch.
That’s the moment that stuck with me.
Because if they can shake it off, smile, and try again while balancing 30 feet in the air in front of a live audience… surely I can face my own little “falls.” Whether it’s finally going for those higher box jumps, having that tough conversation, or trying something new that scares me just enough to make me grow—why not try again?
Try the thing. Miss the thing. Try again. That’s how we grow.
Worst case? You dust yourself off.
Best case? You fly.
So that’s my takeaway from the weekend: Do the thing. Try again. Even if you wobble, even if it’s messy.
Because that’s where the good stuff is.