One day last week there was a note in Caroline’s take home folder with detailed information about the upcoming Bike Rodeo. And I immediately put my head between my knees until I could catch my breath because February has been the month of school that wants me to die. It’s such a short month, yet so full of Valentine’s Day crafts and President’s Day book reports and 100 days of school projects. What about my time? How am I supposed to find time to study my eyebrows in the magnifying mirror when I’m constantly having to run to the store to buy more rubber cement?
And I can’t even talk about last Thursday when I was supposed to send Caroline to school with a teddy bear since they were discussing Teddy Roosevelt and I totally forgot. It was a morning that had already started off wrong because I had the nerve to put her hair in a ponytail and she WANTED BRAIDS which caused her to collapse into tears. I honestly thought she must be getting sick because why else would she act so whiny and weepy. So I proceeded to question her about a possibility of a sore throat or ear pain, only to face the sad reality that her only real ailment was a bad case of DRAMA QUEEN.
So I dropped her off at school, made myself a cup of hot choffee, and was contemplating if I wanted to ruin my morning with the 30 Day Shred when Caroline’s teacher called on my cell phone. “Melanie? We’re having a little bit of a meltdown situation here.”
“Oh no. What’s wrong?” (See? She was sick. That’s why she was acting so whiny. She probably had developed a fever and everything.)
“They were supposed to bring a teddy bear to school this morning and Caroline doesn’t have one.”
Dang.
I grabbed three teddy bears from the playroom (because nothing makes me overcompensate like some motherhood guilt) and drove up to the school where I made the walk of shame down the first grade hallway bearing (I’m so sorry) my three bears. Caroline was thrilled by my guest appearance at school and didn’t seem to be fazed by the fact that I was wearing my shameful purple velour sweatpants that make me look like Grimace. She chose one of the bears for herself and another one for a classmate whose mother had also forgotten the bear.
And I realize the teddy bear incident is a small thing in the whole scheme of life and disappointments. In fact, I’m not even sure why I’m recounting it in such detail because the most disturbing point is that it was just further proof that my memory is swiftly fading. I don’t even know that Sudoku can help me now, especially because I don’t understand how to do Sudoku.
We have some very dear friends who were expecting their second child last week. And we knew it. I’d even left a message on her Facebook wall that said, “Haven’t you had that baby yet? What’s the deal?” because people who haven’t been pregnant in almost seven years think that kind of thing is HILARIOUS. But yet, I received a text on Wednesday afternoon that read “4 centimeters dilated. Should be later today.” and I could not figure out who on earth would text me a message about labor. I nearly texted them back to say, “You have the wrong number, but good luck with the new baby!” before my brain slowly began to compute all the correct information.
But none of that has anything to do with the Bike Rodeo and that’s where I was headed about six hundred words ago.
Caroline got a new big girl bike for Christmas from Mimi and Bops. You may remember the following picture that would have been a precious memory if only my Dad’s head would have made the cut.
However, since this has been a winter that would cause people in Seattle to feel depressed, we haven’t had the opportunity to really get her out on the bike. It also doesn’t help that we don’t really live in a bike-friendly neighborhood for the beginning cyclist. There are lots of hills and virtually no sidewalks which means that to ride the bike requires that we transport the bike to another location and see how it all starts to get too complicated when she is just as happy to ride her scooter which fits neatly in the trunk of my car?
She made it abundantly clear that she must participate in the Bike Rodeo because everyone gets a ribbon and she has never been one to pass up an opportunity for an accolade of any sort. So I began to look at the Bike Rodeo checklist to see what we needed (a bell! a bike light! basic bike maintenance!) and realized that P needed to be in charge of the Bike Rodeo portion of the parenting journey.
Yesterday after church, we drove up to an empty parking lot so she could practice riding her new big girl bike. And she fell. Twice. There were tears and drama and wringing of hands, not to mention that Caroline was pretty upset also.
She decided she wanted to quit. She didn’t want to be in the Bike Rodeo after all. And I began to have newfound respect for all those mothers of Olympians because how did Shaun White’s mother handle it when he wiped out and vowed to be done with snowboarding? When do you let your kid quit and when do you make them keep on trying? Where’s the line between encouragement and being a Bike Rodeo stage mother?
P whispered to me, “What do we do? Do we let her quit?” And I gathered up all my maternal stores of wisdom and replied, “I don’t know”.
Ultimately, we told her she needed to ride for a few more minutes because we didn’t want to end on a bad note and then asked if she wanted to go visit the Bike Store and see if they had a bell and a bike light. She did and so we picked up a purple bell, a purple bike light and a new purple bike helmet.
And she was so thrilled with her new bike accessories that she begged to stop on the way home so she could ride her bike some more. I’ve always believed that sometimes a girl just needs some new accessories to give her spirits a lift and it worked like a charm. She rode her bike over and over again with new enthusiasm, ringing her little bell as she went.
Who knows? One of these days she might even let us take off the training wheels.
But I’ll need to take a nerve pill first.