Guest Mom: No More Training Wheels

I am a working mom of two children who keep me busy all the time.

If we can hire people to baby proof our homes, teach us how to breastfeed, and cook meals for us, how come I could not hire someone to help my daughter to learn to ride her bike without training wheels? I tried. I offered our next door neighbor who is fifteen the chance to earn some money and she turned me down. So it was up to my husband, my daughter, and I to figure this out. Although she is now the resident “expert” on our block, this accomplishment did not come easy. It has been a labor of love, tears, scrapes, sore backs, discouragement, and dare I say, yelling.

It all started last spring when we had the brilliant idea that she was ready and we removed her training wheels. (Sounds a bit like throwing away all your pacifiers only to have to make a midnight run to the store.) I was advised to just “go cold turkey” and she would be fine. This is where it all went wrong. She refused to ride her bike and for the few fleeting moments that we could get her to give it a try, she ended up in tears and discouraged. So the bike sat in the garage for the next year, until this weekend. On Sunday my daughter awoke asking to ride her bike. We quickly got outside while the moment was right. For the next hour or so she got no more than two feet and she would stop. Her fear of falling was getting the best of her. But just when I thought the bike was on its way back to the garage, she did it.

As I watched with tears in my eyes, I knew we were witnessing another important milestone in her life. First rolling over, crawling, walking, and now riding a “2-wheeler.” Now that she is a pro, we are all considering getting bikes so we can ride as a family. What a great way to exercise and spend time together.

Modern Mom: Mix and Match

When it comes to fashion, I say, “to each her own.” After all, someone was the first to wear capris, someone came up with the sleeveless sweater, and someone dared to wear a skirt that stopped at the knee. But when it’s our children who come up with “fashion-forward” ideas, what are we to do?

I ask because my 5-year-old son has recently decided he doesn’t want to wear matching shoes. One day it’s a blue sneaker on one foot, a white one on the other. Another day it’s two different color sandals. In general I feel like if the shoes fit, which they do, why does it matter that they coordinate? But there is a piece of me that worries that the other kids will make fun of him.

And then there’s my 3-year-old daughter who loves her raincoat so much, she wants to wear it every single day, even when it’s sunny and 80 degrees. It’s the raincoat or a temper tantrum, and frankly, the raincoat is a lot easier to deal with. So for now, it’s mismatched shoes and a slicker every single day. And who knows? Maybe one day we’ll wonder who was the first to consider wearing two different shoes on a daily basis.

Commuter Mom: Super Powers

It’s hard not to feel like you have to be all things to all people. And, it’s hard to feel like you do everything well. This Mother’s Day we should all take a moment to sit back and recognize all of the amazing things we do well. A friend sent me this to me so I thought I’d share. Happy Mother’s Day.

Mommy Super Powers

• I can “see” and “pet” invisible ladybugs, tiny kittens, and frogs she keeps in her pockets.
• I can build houses for ants out of rocks.
• I have super strength hearing in the late p.m. or early a.m. (especially if it includes the word “potty”).
• I can transform, with my super-mommy eyes, the letters of her name or anything she tells me she has drawn in a series on scribbles, doodles, and illegible marks.
• I can, with a kiss and the miracle healing power of a single adhesive strip, make 99 percent of ouchies go away. That other 1 percent is the super power of actual doctors.
• I can bench-press 35 pounds with no weight training whatsoever and can climb an entire staircase slowly and silently, with said sleeping 35 pounds (yet I whimper with five-pound ankle weights if I’m Tae-bo-ing — what’s up with that?).
• I have the power of a super-human imagination! (Namely of the most awful atrocities if my hand is not held in the parking lot or on a sidewalk.)
• I know the names of things in my super brain, like “monarch,” “chameleon,” and “forsythia,” and I’m not making them up like I usually do.
• I have a super-amazing strong heart that almost breaks, but not quite, every morning as I kiss her goodbye.