As I sit here on a gorgeous North Carolina Sunday morning, sipping my obligatory coffee and catching up on the news online... I wonder... when did I become such a homebody? I clearly recall the many nights on the town, the trips out of town and generally having a blast painting the town. Now it seems the town is not so interesting to do these days.

Every Friday rolls around and I make all sorts of plans in my head. Do this and that, get in the car head to the beach, visit a museum or something. None of that ever seems to come to fruition. The past seven years have zoomed on by and all I have to show for it are two college degrees, one teen out of the house and another well on the way. I spend most of my weekends still writing papers, catching up on the (yuck) housework I neglected during the week and well, goofing off on the net and musing away on here lately.

Right before I finished my undergrad I promised myself that I would take a trip to the beach. Never happened. Instead, I took a short break and headed straight to graduate school. Another two years of writing papers and lazing around the house. I am four months away from my MBA and totally clueless what I'm going to do after that. Why did I push myself so hard anyway? I have a list of things to accomplish and thus far have reached most of my goals. Yet, there is no leisure list. I just dream of all these exotic places I want to visit. Australia's coral reefs, Egypt's pyramids and Rome's coliseum...

Always something seems to take precedence over my plans; always life intervenes with one minor crisis or another. Or am I just stuck in this work, work, work mode? Have I forgotten what it is to have fun with all this self-pushing I’m doing? And the strange thing is, that once I reach my self-imposed goals….it never seems to be enough. Why am I constantly trying to one-up myself? I push myself to the point of mental exhaustion – until there is nothing left to give to myself.

They say, take care of you first. I’m still in caregiver mode where everything and everyone else has priority over me. The kids, the job, school, the house, the dog. Everyone wants a piece of me all the time and in the process, Gina is sort of sitting at the sidelines watching life zoom by. Granted, some of it is my own doing – but why do I do it? It’s as if I am constantly waiting for that attagirl from someone, somewhere. Perhaps I need to pat myself on the back and just let the exhausting ambition take a rest. Being all grown up and responsible is tiring when you’re going it alone.

Maybe recapturing youth isn’t about looking younger; maybe it’s about putting the childlike fun back into my life? Baby steps methinks. The next fountain I see on another searing hot day – I think I will run through it.