The Meaning Behind #MrsAdventure

You may have noticed my frequent use of the #MrsAdventure as of late. I have to admit, the cute play on words is something I am quite proud of.

We seem to spend a lot of time imagining perfection. The perfect spouse, the perfect family, home, vacation, job, you name it. As we all know, the reality is often not exactly what we imagined.

In my mind, these imperfections are beautiful and sometimes downright hilarious. Some imperfections are painful, literally and metaphorically, but they give us wisdom, experience and empathy.

While we are all on this adventure of life, I found titling my journey a misadventure to be far more fitting for me. So many adventurers have a plan and goals and ambitions, not that I don’t. I certainly do, I am just not as tied down to a method of reaching them and, in some cases, I am also flexible about the end result. Thus, embracing the elegance of unfortunate events or mishaps seems more my style. It’s all about perspective anyway, right?

Take my job loss, for example. I never would have left that company of my own volition and certainly never would have gone back to school. The misadventures of my life took me off of a misguided path and corrected it.

While I could have gone with Miss Adventure I chose Mrs Adventure, as I hope is obvious, I am a Mrs. Being my husband’s Mrs. is so meaningful to me. It is literally the foundation of everything in my life. There isnt a piece of my heart, soul, and life that my marriage doesn’t embrace. With that, #MrsAdventure was born.

Now, assuming you have stay tuned this long I would love to share a #MrsAdventure from my younger years.

It was spring or summer. Warm enough that my best friend and I decided to go ride our bikes. Though I dont recall specifically, we likely went behind the school in our neighborhood to play on the swing sets. That was a frequent pastime of ours.

This particular day, I was jamming out to Christina Aguilera on my Walkman. For those too young to know, this amazing device played CDs and was portable. Mine was silver with an orange, see through lid. It was great. Unless you scratched the CD or moved too much.

My friend had gotten about half a block ahead of me and was also listening to her Walkman. I don’t remember what I was wearing but I’m guessing only the clothes an awkward teen girl growing up in the 90s can imagine, completed with frizzy hair pulled up in a scrunchie and colored bands on my braces.

Genie in a Bottle was playing, the wind was in my hair, I was speeding along the road, flying like Wonder Woman. I didn’t know what the heck being rubbed the right way meant, but I knew I had to turn my jam up to get the full effect of this moment.

Mm. Man. Looking back it plays in slow motion and I can see so many ways in which I could have avoided what is possibly, rather, what is the single most embarrassing moment of my life.

See, kids, Walkmans were great. Mine had a little dial to turn up the volume. The play/pause, stop and skip buttons were on the base of the Walkman by the opening of the lid. Walkmans also weren’t like cell phones. It was bigger than your hand so was best operated with two while moving.

I can’t believe I’m sharing this. But #MrsAdventure, right?

Biking, jamming. Turning up the CD player. I balanced it on my handlebars under my right thumb and turned the volume up with my left hand. To do this, I looked down.

Guys, it was a split second.

The next thing I knew Christina was singing her heart up and I was literally flying. Through the air. Onto the windshield of a parked car. In front of two nice looking college boys and their girlfriends.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

They are running down to help me. I hope I didnt damage the car…

Are you okay?? You, like, rolled all the way to the top of the windshield and all the way back down!

I’m okay. Thank you. Sorry I hit your car. All the while trying to hold the Walkman that betrayed me and put my chain back on my bike.

About this time, my friend realized I wasn’t there and had turned around to come check on me. Thank goodness as I didnt know how much more humiliation I could muster.

Thanks again, sorry about hitting your car.

It’s okay, have a nice trip!

Insert laughter from collegiate bystanders here and a face redder than a Weasley’s hair and you have got a pretty good picture of how things tied up.

This #MrsAdventure was a good lesson in learning how to laugh at myself. It also changed the way I interacted with others when they felt embarrassed. Both of which I was reminded of every time I rode my bike or walked by that car. It had a perfect tread mark on the bumper from my bike tire.

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