Easy Rider

Like everyone else from the momosphere who recently spent four days in Chicago, I returned home to different children. They'd grown--both physically and intangibly-- in the time I'd been away. Since I'm not exactly new to this parenting thing, I knew they were going to change in my absence and I thought I was prepared for it. Until my dad showed me this.

When Regan started calling me "mother" and telling me her souvenirs were "so cute!" and "thoughtful" I grinned at my mom and laughingly told her she'd broken my baby. I'd expected that she would seem like a completely different person, you see. It's a phenomenon that we're all familiar with, that babies and toddlers morph into different beings at the speed of light. Blink and you'll miss something wondrous. The thing with second children, though, is that you get that, and you're okay with it. Not that their moments don't matter; they do. But they're often just not quite as....momentous as the first time around. It's somehow easier to let them slip by and to simply pick up in this new space. You know, with second children, that you were there for all those long moments that lead up to that leap that happened while you were looking away, and that makes it ok to take the big things in stride, knowing that even if you don't remember them, you had all the myriad little ones along the way.

First children, however, are different. They are, well, first. This means that by definition, every new stage for them is truly new. None of it has been seen before and all of it is eagerly awaited. First children are also older children, and It can be harder to see their metamorphoses happening in the moment. Unlike their younger siblings, their changes often occur as gradual, incremental movements between stages, and not as seismic shifts in character. And then one day you come home from a trip and find that the wobbly, tentative girl who couldn't even balance on a two wheeler has become a confident rider in your absence and you realize that she went and did it again--grew up when you weren't looking. Only this time, you don't even have the thousands of moments that went before to console yourself.

When I left on Thursday, Diva Girl and her bike had yet to achieve any sort of symbiotic relationship. Each turn of the pedals, every second of precarious, upright motion was a hard fought three way war between her body, the machine, and that eternal archnemesis, gravity. By Monday, she'd sped beyond the fledgling rider in the video, nearly unrecognizable in her mastery of her wheeled steed. And I'd missed it all.

I confess, mingled with my joy and excitement was a wistful little nugget of...something. Hurt? Regret? Envy? I'm not sure, I just know that when Diva Girl greeted my return home with "Guess what!!! I can ride my bike!!!!" my heart gave a little squeeze.

And then it let go as I looked at my father, beaming in the background. I realized that not only was it okay that she had mastered this skill in my absence, it was right. After all, this wasn't my parenting moment, it was my dad's. He was the one who logged the long hours holding her up, racing along beside her, shouting encouragement, and catching her when she fell. He was the one who taught her to ride, so it was only right that he was the one with her when she finally found her wings and soared (or wobbled) down the pavement on her own.

I'm just glad he shared it with me.

Comments

Whoo Hoo, DG! Way to go!

Cade will be going with my mom to Michigan a week before I will. I expect to no longer recognize who he is when I finally get up there.

Awww....I rode a bike but didn't have that first moment with my parents as they worked so much. Maybe one day I might go to Blogher (praying for a free ticket one day)

Oh, how simultaneously cool and disappointing. There are plenty of other milestones yet - how fun!

Go Bicycle girl! Hope she liked the HSM magazine. :)

Way to go Diva Girl! Riding straight was pretty impressive, but the way that she took that corner knocked my socks off. She's clearly got the bike thing mastered.

I don't blame you at all for being wistful, although it sounds as if you've come to peace with it. Parenting can be very sad and happy at the same time.

Way to go diva girl and way to go your dad. BG still can't ride a bike and I am not the one to teach her, you have inspired me to try and get my dad involved. I don't blame you for being a little envious either.

Oh man, you got me with this one. The tears. Thanks.
We just mastered the bike over here, too, and it was not my doing, either. A younger friend got my girl motivated.
You go Diva Girl.

I'm sorry you missed watching your daughter learn to ride a bike. I missed both of my sons learning to ride. You can't get those times back.