three wheels

I like to think that if I were physically able I would run everywhere, dance my way into a room or maybe do cartwheels.  I would take some wild aerobic dance classes and jump a lot for no reason.  I would walk around giving high-fives to everyone, throw out a thumbs-up to anything remotely cool and participate in lots of parades just so I could give the beauty pageant wave.  If you can do those things, please humor me and go do it now, it’s such a gift – oh but wait, read my blog first! 

Another thing in my dream bucket list was ride to a bike. I thought it would be so fun to do evening bike rides with my husband. It is such an awesome way to end the day and get some exercise.  Winding through the neighborhood, soaking in the sounds of kids playing and the glow of lights and flickering TVs in each passing house. 

I had not been on a bike since using a 3-wheeled bike when I was young.  I was not sure if I could handle a regular bike and navigate the pedaling and take-off process without crashing. 

To get me started my husband bought me this bike for my birthday. It was the best gift ever.  We have spent a lot of time cruising bike trails and exploring our neighborhood.  It’s funny because a few times when we were out I heard older folks say things like, “oh I haven’t seen a bike like that in a long time.”  I wonder if they think I picked it because I thought it was vintage and cool? 

I’m not sure if I’ll ever have the guts to try a normal bike, but for now, I love my three wheels! 

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no…no…no..DADA!

I knew when we decided to have kids that it wouldn’t be easy.  It would mean depending on others, which I spent my whole life trying not to do.  It would be a daily reminder that I was different as I compared myself to other moms. I would have to take a backseat and watch my husband do the things I couldn’t. 

I had my whole life to learn how to find a way.  Mastering stairs. Fastening buttons. Learning to drive. Walking in snow. Not falling during the winter months on the wet linoleum floors. Carrying books to class in college.  Commuting on a city bus.

I mastered things in my time and if it took awhile it was okay. I was only responsible for myself.  So having a baby was scary. There was no time.  He was little, helpless and needed me.

When my son Oliver was born, we had no choice but to figure things out together.  When I was slow changing a diaper and he screamed, I would just cry with him.  When I was home alone with him and wanted to go to another room, I’d stick him in the stroller and take him along.  I asked those who cared for him while I was at work to not stand and rock him when he needed soothing. I was afraid that he would grow used to that and I would be unable to soothe my baby.

Overall, during his baby months Oliver earned the title “Angel Baby.”  I liked to think he knew his mommy was different and wanted to be helpful.  As the toddler smarts started to brew in him, I found things to change.  On one hand it was easier because he could walk and understand what I was saying.  However, he was also starting to develop opinions and preferences.

My husband was the one to carry Oliver, give airplane rides and crazy trips around the house in baskets. He was the one to scoop him up when he got hurt and the strong arms that carried him to the car after a long day at daycare.  I quickly knew that in this season of Oliver’s life no one could hold a candle to “dada.”

This was one of the things I never thought about until it happened. There were mornings when I would go to get Oliver out of his crib and he would shake his head, crawl to the far corner and say, “no, no, no..DADA!”

It made me sad at first. I carried you for 9 months and smothered you in prayer. I devoted 365 days to nursing. I tell you every day that you’re perfect. I cried like a baby when I sent you to daycare. I’m your mommy!!!

It wasn’t fair.  

Nothing has really changed but it doesn’t bother me as much anymore. Deep down I know that boys need their dad and Oliver scored an awesome one. He is lucky and should adore him.  So for now, during my tough mornings at the crib I take a deep breath and remind myself this a phase he will outgrow.  Someday I’ll be cool too.  

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