Maybe, if it hadn’t been so taxing and all-encompassing, I might have had that peculiar out-of-body style experience while giving birth. You know, the one where you are doing something but simultaneously you’re looking at yourself doing that thing from the outside and thinking, “Hey, I am doing this thing. That’s crazy.” It certainly could’ve happened during birth, it’s such a trope of television and movies. The feet in stirrups, the directions to push, the straining and sweating. But, like I said, I was too caught up in the moment.
Still, I do have those moments as a parent every now and then. Sunday was the most recent one. I took the training wheels off Graham’s bike at his request. He’s had his bike since July, most kids probably would have ditched the training wheels months ago, but we’re not quite the norm. We don’t live on a quiet suburban street. We have a small stretch of sidewalk, but it’s on a hill. There’s no good place nearby for him to practice, so we have to drive to the high school track 15 minutes away for him to put time in, but we can only do it on weekends and he’s at his dad’s house half of that time. Oh, and Tessa has to be up for it, too, and she thinks riding bikes around the track is super boring. Plus, Graham’s an anxious kid. After he jumped on that bike like he had already mastered it and scared himself half to death because he didn’t know how to stop, he took his time getting comfortable.
We drove over on Sunday after I removed the training wheels. Graham was confident but cautious, which is his attitude more and more these days. He likes to tell me how 1st grade is very hard, but he also tells me that he is learning everything and knows how to do it.
The first order of business was getting on and getting off. I knew from his prior scare that he needed to be able to stop and get off comfortably. And I knew that just standing with the bike would be harder than the riding part. He’s got the riding down, it’s just managing the bike itself when it’s not in motion. So we practiced a bit, and then he started to ride while I held one handlebar and kept a hand on his back.
We went around the track and I thought, “Oh hey, here I am, like I’m in a commercial for life insurance or something, jogging with my kid as he learns how to ride his bike.”
I also thought, “Maybe I should’ve worn my sneakers.”
By our third lap I just had my hand lightly on his back and I told him, “I’m barely touching you, I’m not even holding you up anymore, so once you go around the corner, I’m going to let go, okay?”
And to my surprise he said, “Okay, Mom.” And that was it. I let go, I continued to jog with him for a stretch, and then I stopped. There he went. It was the end of the commercial.
It was even the golden hour, for crying out loud.
Sure, it wasn’t the tree-lined suburban street. It was a beat up and worn out old track at a beat up old building with graffiti, and a sad looking Chinese restaurant across the street, plus a bar where it’s not that unusual to get a strong whiff of pot smoke. But it was our moment, and we took it.