Have I ever told you the story of why I love scooters?
Well, Once upon a time when Nicholas was three months old, Jolie (age 11) and Sydney (age 9) asked me if they could "go down the hill."
That's all they said. "Mommy, can we go down the hill?"
I really thought they were asking if they could walk down the hill in our back yard to the creek. I had 5 kids at this point and one of them was attached to my boobs all day and one of them was 18 months old and getting into everything. Fischer was four years old at the time and honestly, I don't know what he was doing. Probably reading the encyclopedia.
Jolie had come home from school this day very upset. She didn't really have friends at school. Kids made fun of her for reasons I still cannot figure out to this day. It was that ugly, cheeky, drama that girls were doing at this age that blindsided us and we, as a family, could not wrap our minds around understanding why ANYBODY could be that cruel. This involved things like not letting Jolie sit certain places in the lunch room and making fun of her clothes. And the girls who were being mean were kinda rednecks. I hate to say it, but I was always like, "Who the hell do they think they are?" But that's beside the point and this story is getting off track.
Any way, so Jolie comes home upset AGAIN and it turns out she got pushed out of her desk, and when she was on the floor, a group of girls started KICKING her and calling her names! The substitute teacher saw the whole thing and no one even called me.
I used to teach my kids how to handle bullying this way: If someone hits you, hit the floor and act like you passed out. Then, the mean bully will get in a whole shit load of trouble and 911 will be called and we have plenty of lawyers in our family.
But that does not work. Let me tell you. Now I tell my children to fight back. Never start anything, but go for the eyes or the jugular if you need to.
Well, I decided enough is enough. I called the ring leader's mom and dad. I asked them to come over to our house after dinner and we were gonna straighten the whole thing out ourselves, or I was going to take legal action. They were unaware of their daughter's problem, but when asked, the little girl confessed everything and admitted what she and her friends had done. She was very remorseful and was grateful she could come over to say she was sorry.
I called Adrian and told him what went down. I asked him to come home a little early so he would be here when the girl and her parents came.
In the meantime, Jolie and Sydney went "down the hill."
I stayed inside with the little kids.
About fifteen minutes later there is frantic knocking on my front door.
It is a little girl who lives down the street. She is hysterical. I mean, completely hysterical. She is panicked.
In between sobs, she screams, "There is blood pouring out of both of her eyes!"
"Oh, my God! Who's eyes?"
"Your daughter's!"
It turns out, what Jolie and Sydney were asking, was for permission to ride their scooters down the hill on the street.
I think I grabbed, Nicholas, Mollie, and Fischer and shoved them all three into the floor board of my mini van and shot out of my driveway like a bat outta hell down the hill to where Jolie was laying at the bottom.
Luckily, the blood was pouring OVER her eyes, not out of her eyes, but her arm was twisted in a weird way and I could see the bone.
I scooped her up, plopped her in the front seat and I guess Sydney put the kids in car seats while I headed straight for the hospital.
On the way, we passed the family who was coming over.
I rolled down the window to tell them I was heading to the hospital. They could hear Jolie screaming and they saw all the blood. The dad freaked out thinking his daughter's gang had caused this.
Next, we pass Adrian and I tell him to get the in the car, we are going to the hospital.
He took the drivers seat and I held Jolie. All the way, he kept saying, "I can't believe they did this to her!"
At this point, I could not focus. He thought the family had come over and beat the shit out of our daughter. He was furious. He wanted to know where they lived! I kept saying it was the scooter but he didn't understand and thought maybe "Scooter" was like a sixth grade girl's gang name.
We finally made it to the emergency room. Poor Jolie was so bloody and in so much pain. The nurse tried to take a blood sample and wrapped a tourniquet around the arm that didn't have a bone sticking up out of it, and kept slapping it trying to get a vein to pop up. Jolie was wailing! She begged the nurse to stop. As they were cutting off Jolie's clothes, the nurse actually told her to be quiet and be a big girl as she kept trying to straighten out the arm to get the needle in.
My dad finally stepped in and said, "Hey, x ray both arms."
He was right. BOTH arms were totally broken.
Jolie was wheeled off to surgery and she stayed in the hospital for 10 days on IV antibiotics.
She was in two casts for six weeks and one remained on for longer.
She could not feed herself.
She could not bathe herself.
She could not do much of anything.
Adrian and I took shifts at the hospital and I would tie balloons to Nicholas' feet and just sit and talk to Jolie for hours and hours. I read books to her aloud. We watched I Love Lucy DVDs. We ate a lot of chocolate.
Jolie was just at the cusp of entering adolescence and I must say that taking care of her while she was helpless was one of the sweetest experiences I have ever had. My first born was about to start pulling away from me, and here I had one last chance to care for her like a baby.
You know how rumors get started. Well, the whole school heard through the grapevine that Jolie had gotten jumped was in a full body cast. Cards and letters started pouring in. Friends she didn't even know she had, started calling her. She was showered with gifts. It was the sweetest thing.
I don't know exactly what the point of my story is, but Jolie is now a senior in high school. It makes me a little bit sad that she is growing up. She hardly needs me at all unless she needs money. I guess that is why I love scooters and will always cherish that summer.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Friday, September 30, 2011
Dear Family,
Going back to school has been the easy part about going back to school. The hard part is all the stuff that doesn't get done while I am gone or studying. I think y'all been spoiled by having a stay at home mother for all these years. Even when I worked, I made sure I could either bring y'all with me or I worked at home. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed every minute of it. I am grateful I was able to breast feed babies and not have to rely on strangers to raise you. But y'all aren't babies any more. Everyone is (finally) in school now and so it is time to hang up my apron. I have waited a long time for my turn.
In order for this transition to go more smoothly than it has for the past couple of months, let me help you by giving you some useful tips:
1. If you use a dish, you must wash it afterwards. And no, this is not suggesting there is an option of eating off the floor or trying to eat spaghetti with your hands.
2. If you are hungry, you know where the kitchen is.
3. If you tell me one more time there is nothing to eat when in fact there is plenty, we will play a game called "Prison" in which I will serve you only bread and water for a week.
4. Boys: if you "miss" while aiming, there is a handy dandy toilet wand by the toilet. Work some magic, OK?
5. I know most of you in this family are very short. If you cannot aim your spit for the hole in the sink, please use the handy dandy step stool so you will not coat the entire counter with slobbery Crest for Kids Bubble Mint toothpaste.
6. Believe it or not, this house has a laundry room. It is downstairs and there are 2 big machines in there. One is called a washing machine and the other is a dryer. I will be teaching a one time only lesson on how to use them tonight so make sure you are there and listening carefully.
7. When you take off your shoes, for the love of god, please make a mental note of where you are in the house so that you will be able to find them the next morning before school. I know it's incredible, but I actually do not know where your shoes are at any given time. It may seem that I do, but I don't.
8. I also do not know when your school projects are due. I know it may seem like I talk to your teachers personally each day, but I don't. I have no clue what you are supposed to be working on. Keep up with your own assignments. Write things down. There are a gazillion sticky notes in the drawer where the silverware is. Use them. And I am warning you: If you spring some last minute thing on me again and expect me to go out to Walmart in my pajamas to buy you some poster board or modeling clay in the middle of the night when it finally pops in your head that you need to make a brain, a cell, an Indian Mound, a volcano, or some book report presentation, you can just forget it. I will let you have the experience of failure and you can just grow up living in a van down by the river.
xoxo,
Mom
In order for this transition to go more smoothly than it has for the past couple of months, let me help you by giving you some useful tips:
1. If you use a dish, you must wash it afterwards. And no, this is not suggesting there is an option of eating off the floor or trying to eat spaghetti with your hands.
2. If you are hungry, you know where the kitchen is.
3. If you tell me one more time there is nothing to eat when in fact there is plenty, we will play a game called "Prison" in which I will serve you only bread and water for a week.
4. Boys: if you "miss" while aiming, there is a handy dandy toilet wand by the toilet. Work some magic, OK?
5. I know most of you in this family are very short. If you cannot aim your spit for the hole in the sink, please use the handy dandy step stool so you will not coat the entire counter with slobbery Crest for Kids Bubble Mint toothpaste.
6. Believe it or not, this house has a laundry room. It is downstairs and there are 2 big machines in there. One is called a washing machine and the other is a dryer. I will be teaching a one time only lesson on how to use them tonight so make sure you are there and listening carefully.
7. When you take off your shoes, for the love of god, please make a mental note of where you are in the house so that you will be able to find them the next morning before school. I know it's incredible, but I actually do not know where your shoes are at any given time. It may seem that I do, but I don't.
8. I also do not know when your school projects are due. I know it may seem like I talk to your teachers personally each day, but I don't. I have no clue what you are supposed to be working on. Keep up with your own assignments. Write things down. There are a gazillion sticky notes in the drawer where the silverware is. Use them. And I am warning you: If you spring some last minute thing on me again and expect me to go out to Walmart in my pajamas to buy you some poster board or modeling clay in the middle of the night when it finally pops in your head that you need to make a brain, a cell, an Indian Mound, a volcano, or some book report presentation, you can just forget it. I will let you have the experience of failure and you can just grow up living in a van down by the river.
xoxo,
Mom
Friday, September 2, 2011
Autism part 9
The day finally arrived! Nicholas had his first day of kindergarten a few weeks ago! This is a huge step and I must admit I was worried to death for the week prior to school beginning and I was a nervous wreck the first day. Nicholas is riding the little bus home and I was nearly crying waiting for it that first day. This is my baby, y'all. He's the last one to leave the nest and go to big school.
He is five and a half and still only 27 pounds. He is wearing clothes and shoes from two years ago and is still not potty trained. That was a bummer. We worked very hard on potty training at Challenged Child and Friends and over the summer. I really thought he was "getting it" but he's not quite there yet. I am really hoping he will be wearing underwear to school by first grade.
But wow, what leaps and bounds he has made in other areas of learning. This boy is smart. I am telling you, there is a genius locked away in there. Nicholas has a beautiful memory. He remembers everything and it is cool to see some random memory emerge at unexpected times and in unexpected ways. He remembers all the sounds letters make. He can read basic sight words. And he can fix mechanical things. He's pretty amazing.
Nicholas is handling transitions much, much better. He seems so mature walking into the school each morning. No melt downs! (knock on wood) He's been a little bit teary now and then, but no freak outs. Fischer said that Nicholas started crying in the lunch room, missing me one day, and his parapro ran to get Fischer to comfort him. Is that not the sweetest thing ever? Fischer picked his little brother up, held him and reassured him everything was going to be OK. I am glad Mollie and Fischer go to the same school!
One day, Nicholas came home from school with a pink lipstick stain on his head. This made me so happy. This meant that some teacher gave him a kiss. My heart melted and I felt a sense of peace that people at his school are loving my sweet boy. There have been several times a teacher has stopped me in the store or around town and asked me if I am Nicholas' mommy. They tell me they just want to scoop him up and take him home with them. Nicholas does have this affect on people. He is so cute and sweet. Who can resist him?
Nicholas loves school so far. I am grateful for all his teachers. I am grateful he has the opportunity to learn the best way he can in a special environment with understanding people. This is a great beginning to his educational future. I see awesome things to come!
He is five and a half and still only 27 pounds. He is wearing clothes and shoes from two years ago and is still not potty trained. That was a bummer. We worked very hard on potty training at Challenged Child and Friends and over the summer. I really thought he was "getting it" but he's not quite there yet. I am really hoping he will be wearing underwear to school by first grade.
But wow, what leaps and bounds he has made in other areas of learning. This boy is smart. I am telling you, there is a genius locked away in there. Nicholas has a beautiful memory. He remembers everything and it is cool to see some random memory emerge at unexpected times and in unexpected ways. He remembers all the sounds letters make. He can read basic sight words. And he can fix mechanical things. He's pretty amazing.
Nicholas is handling transitions much, much better. He seems so mature walking into the school each morning. No melt downs! (knock on wood) He's been a little bit teary now and then, but no freak outs. Fischer said that Nicholas started crying in the lunch room, missing me one day, and his parapro ran to get Fischer to comfort him. Is that not the sweetest thing ever? Fischer picked his little brother up, held him and reassured him everything was going to be OK. I am glad Mollie and Fischer go to the same school!
One day, Nicholas came home from school with a pink lipstick stain on his head. This made me so happy. This meant that some teacher gave him a kiss. My heart melted and I felt a sense of peace that people at his school are loving my sweet boy. There have been several times a teacher has stopped me in the store or around town and asked me if I am Nicholas' mommy. They tell me they just want to scoop him up and take him home with them. Nicholas does have this affect on people. He is so cute and sweet. Who can resist him?
Nicholas loves school so far. I am grateful for all his teachers. I am grateful he has the opportunity to learn the best way he can in a special environment with understanding people. This is a great beginning to his educational future. I see awesome things to come!
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Summer 2011
I came up with the lovely idea of Camp Cutchshaw where the children would learn things and participate in camp- like activities seeing as how we are totally broke and cannot afford fancy real camps. I think Camp Cutchshaw lasted 3 days. I am not sure. I could check one of the previous blogs about our Camp Cutchshaw adventures, but I do not want to relive any of it.
So, I gave up. I threw in the towel. I did not endure to the end. I said to hell with it. And you know what happened?
We had a pretty fabulous summer. The kids were lazy. They slept in. They stayed up late. They didn't make up their beds. They did not hang up laundry. They did not do dishes. They did not do chores. And guess what? We all relaxed. Wow. What a concept.
Next summer I am totally going to incorporate the Cutchshaw Spa where overstressed children can come learn how to be lazy because I am pretty good at teaching that school, apparently.
School year is for hard work and summer is for unwinding. That's my new philosophy which is pretty great because no kid will resist that.
We swam a LOT. We went to the movies a few times. We played with toys we had forgotten about. We played games. We hunted for the possum who lives under our porch that has eaten 2 of our stray cats. We had some circle of life lessons. We learned what it feels like to live without air condition for 3 days when it is 104 outside. (THAT was NO fun!) We had a couple of bon fires. We visited friends. I learned how to wash dishes by hand when our dishwasher broke and I've gotten so good at it that we may never replace it. (sigh) I had a birthday. Sydney turned 15 and got her learner's license. She is an excellent driver, by the way. Jolie turned 17 and is enjoying a summer romance. Mollie's birthday is coming up in a few days. And I took the kids on our annual Fripp Island vacation with my mother, my sisters, their children, and one of my brothers-in-law.
Today is the first day of school and now the Cutchshaw Spa is over. I am kinda sad. As difficult as it can be juggling everything, I really do love being with my children. I love hanging out with them in our pajamas in the middle of the day. I love having time to read books with them at night. I love not feeling pressure to get things done at a certain time. I love being able to just lay out in the middle of the driveway looking at the stars in the middle of the night and not feeling like a bad mom for letting them stay up past their bed time.
I hope when I am dead, they will remember the Cutchshaw Spa Summer more fondly than they would have been grateful that I had helped polish up handwriting and drilled math facts every day. It would have been good to do that, but this was good too. And I hope they know just how much I ENJOY being in their precious presence. How I love their puppy breath in the morning and how much I love hanging out in the teenager's room in the middle of the night telling jokes. I love it when Fischer drills me on trivia facts and how Mollie draws happy pictures of sunshines and rainbows and then in her twisted way, draws "angry mobs" in the background. I love watching Nicholas line up all the food out of the pantry all over the house. I love it when all of us get squished in my bed watching a really dumb TV show. I love it when every one's bored and we try to think of a cheap activity to do and everyone argues about who gets to pick and then everyone gets upset and we end up doing nothing. I love it all. And I love each of them. Amen.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Satan can just go to hell
Did y'all know: The average American woman is 5′ 4″, 164 pounds, and a size 14. In fact, over 50% of women in this country wear a size 14 or larger.
I did not know this as I am currently killing myself trying to get my butt in shape..... again..... for the zillionth time. I have been doing the calorie count thing AGAIN for the past 5 weeks and guess what! I've about starved to death and have lost 2 pounds. 2 pounds! I have denied myself the comfort of chocolate during that time of the month. I have had a salad when I wanted a cheeseburger. I have left food on my plate. I have logged in every single thing that I have consumed, even the M&M's I tried to sneak and for what? 2 pounds. Gosh! It really sucks.
I am not giving up, though. Oh, no. This is a challenge. It is me versus Satan himself. And I am going to win.
I am approaching this struggle spiritually this time. I have been enlightened by the book Made to Crave. It has opened my eyes.
It's Satan's fault. The devil made me get fat. Well, OK, I take personal responsibility, but he has some responsibility too. He has tempted me with all that yummy stuff that made me so fat. I've been trying to silence the cries of a hungry soul with food when really all I've been needing is the Lord.
Isn't it interesting that one of the first things we learn in the scriptures is a story about how a woman was tempted with food? Well, her bite of the forbidden fruit led to the collapse of humanity and my consumption of too many forbidden donuts led to the collapse of a plastic chair on Easter 10 years ago, but there's a connection. She knew she wasn't supposed to eat it but she just couldn't help it. Satan made it look so good and juicy. Satan does that to me all the damn time.
"Come on, Abigail! Doesn't this smooth, rich chocolate look yummy?"
"I am on a diet, Satan. Get thee behind me."
"Come on, you have five children and a husband. They are all crazy. You need this chocolate just to have a little enjoyment in your life. You deserve it. You work so hard. No one will even appreciate you until you are dead. This chocolate will make you feel so much better. And afterwards, you should chase it down with some salty chips. Mmmmmmmm."
"Satan, I love the way you think. You are so right! I do deserve this treat."
And then I just get fatter. And you know what? It is his plan. The devil is trying to sabotage me so I will get stuck in my dining room chair again so I won't be able to leave my house. He wants me to be so embarrassed about my body that I won't try new things. He wants me to hate myself so I won't continue fulfilling my life's purpose. He wants my butt to jiggle so insanely that I will never want to go to the gym because the mere thought of exercising in front of another human being makes me want to cry.
So I won't give up today. In fact, I have a new gym membership that I got from school. I am going to take all kinds of classes. There is yoga, pilates, Zumba, and equipment that I might actually break, but I am going to do it any way. I don't care if there will be 18 year old boys in there working out as part of their baseball training. I am going to do it any way. I don't care if they stare at me or even laugh. I'd like to see them deliver five babies without pain medication or epidurals. I am STRONG!
And Satan, you can just go to hell!
I did not know this as I am currently killing myself trying to get my butt in shape..... again..... for the zillionth time. I have been doing the calorie count thing AGAIN for the past 5 weeks and guess what! I've about starved to death and have lost 2 pounds. 2 pounds! I have denied myself the comfort of chocolate during that time of the month. I have had a salad when I wanted a cheeseburger. I have left food on my plate. I have logged in every single thing that I have consumed, even the M&M's I tried to sneak and for what? 2 pounds. Gosh! It really sucks.
I am not giving up, though. Oh, no. This is a challenge. It is me versus Satan himself. And I am going to win.
I am approaching this struggle spiritually this time. I have been enlightened by the book Made to Crave. It has opened my eyes.
It's Satan's fault. The devil made me get fat. Well, OK, I take personal responsibility, but he has some responsibility too. He has tempted me with all that yummy stuff that made me so fat. I've been trying to silence the cries of a hungry soul with food when really all I've been needing is the Lord.
Isn't it interesting that one of the first things we learn in the scriptures is a story about how a woman was tempted with food? Well, her bite of the forbidden fruit led to the collapse of humanity and my consumption of too many forbidden donuts led to the collapse of a plastic chair on Easter 10 years ago, but there's a connection. She knew she wasn't supposed to eat it but she just couldn't help it. Satan made it look so good and juicy. Satan does that to me all the damn time.
"Come on, Abigail! Doesn't this smooth, rich chocolate look yummy?"
"I am on a diet, Satan. Get thee behind me."
"Come on, you have five children and a husband. They are all crazy. You need this chocolate just to have a little enjoyment in your life. You deserve it. You work so hard. No one will even appreciate you until you are dead. This chocolate will make you feel so much better. And afterwards, you should chase it down with some salty chips. Mmmmmmmm."
"Satan, I love the way you think. You are so right! I do deserve this treat."
And then I just get fatter. And you know what? It is his plan. The devil is trying to sabotage me so I will get stuck in my dining room chair again so I won't be able to leave my house. He wants me to be so embarrassed about my body that I won't try new things. He wants me to hate myself so I won't continue fulfilling my life's purpose. He wants my butt to jiggle so insanely that I will never want to go to the gym because the mere thought of exercising in front of another human being makes me want to cry.
So I won't give up today. In fact, I have a new gym membership that I got from school. I am going to take all kinds of classes. There is yoga, pilates, Zumba, and equipment that I might actually break, but I am going to do it any way. I don't care if there will be 18 year old boys in there working out as part of their baseball training. I am going to do it any way. I don't care if they stare at me or even laugh. I'd like to see them deliver five babies without pain medication or epidurals. I am STRONG!
And Satan, you can just go to hell!
Thursday, June 23, 2011
The Daddy Test
It was right before Christmas and I had to work at the church for the Christmas Pageant. We lived right across the street from our church. I told him his task was to strap Sydney into the stroller, hold Jolie's hand, meet me at the church, go through the pageant, return to my apartment, and then play for a little while until I came home.
Easy cheesy! No big deal. Adrian was doing great. He thought it was a breeze. He looked so proud walking through the church with the little girls. My heart melted when I saw the three of them together.
But when he got the girls back home and got Sydney out of the stroller, Sydney pushed Jolie to the floor. Jolie started crying. Adrian knelt down and comforted her. He said, "It's OK, it's just a little boo boo." She let him hold her. They were bonding. Adrian was pleased with his great fathering skills. They shared a cuddle moment. And then he looked around and said, "Where's Sydney?"
He ran upstairs and found Sydney standing on the vanity in the bathroom with a pair of scissors in her hand going chop, chop, chop! Adrian saw gobs of beautiful golden curls all over the floor!
About that time, I came home. Adrian had tears in his eyes and he was so sorry. I know he thought I was going to be mad.
I asked, "Do you want to run away?"
And he said, "No."
So I said, "Well....then you passed the test!"
If he knew how far he would be tested in the 11 years that have followed, I think he might have said, "Yes! I want to run away!"
We got engaged on New Year's Eve after this event. Our engagement only lasted 6 weeks. We had only known each other for a total of 12 weeks when we got married. Isn't that crazy? It really is. But I highly recommend this for all couples. Get married while you're still hopelessly in love with each other. Everyone has undesirable qualities. It's kinda nice to go ahead and commit your whole life to someone before you know what those bad qualities are. It's like a dream. Every marriage is based on a wing and a prayer any way. You can know someone all your life and that doesn't mean you'll have a good marriage.
Well, we had a baby a year later, he adopted the girls, and then two more babies followed. I cannot tell you the number of Daddy tests Adrian has endured with five children. Some have been quite typical and others have been really challenging and some even heartbreaking. Adrian has passed every time with flying colors. He is so calm and loving. And he knows how to say he is sorry on the rare occasions he falls short. Perhaps this is his best quality because I sure know a lot of people who do not know how to apologize.
Plus, he still tells the best bed time stories. I hope that when our children are all grown up, the memories of their Daddy sitting on the edge of their beds making up elaborate, personalized fairy tales will stay in their hearts. I hope they will remember the many fishing adventures he's taken them on, the camping trips, and the Daddy daughter dates to the nail salons, the interesting dinner table conversations when he teaches us things about science, the world, or openly discusses his spiritual beliefs.
Girls, remember that he gave you a diamond ring on your 13th birthday and told you he wanted to be the first man to give you a diamond. Boys, remember your man adventures doing target practice and camping without us girls.
I want you to know that he is the one who picks out most of your Christmas presents. He is like a kid in a candy store and spends a lot of time picking gifts that would be just right for each of you. On the rare occasions when there is extra money left over, he spends it on each of you.
Hold it in your heart what it felt like to go on his famous helicopter rides when he would hold you above his head and spin you around, or when he'd make you walk on the ceiling, or when he held you steady so you could ride a bike. Remember these things. Forget about the road trips of all seven of us being stuck in the van together, OK?
Adrian once said that parents are like artists and they aren't appreciated until they are dead. It rings true sometimes. I know we frequently forget to show our appreciation for him. We forget to think about how hard he works to provide for all of us. We forget how thin he is spread making sure all six of us feel loved and special and he juggles caring for his elderly mother too. I don't know how he does it all.
Adrian, you really are the best father I have ever known in my whole entire life and I am not just saying that because you are the father of my children. You have the sweetest heart and you lead this family with such a gentle spirit. You are a really good teacher and you know how to play.
We love you so much and hope you know it.
xoxo
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Father's Day Column 2011
Holding the back of the bicycle
Dear Lula Belle,
Since it is almost Father’s Day, what is the best advice your dad ever gave to you? I met your dad when he first came to Gainesville. I was working at the hospital. He was our pediatrician for all our kids. My son went to him till he was married. He got real sad when your dad said he had to go to a grown up doctor from then on. Soon, he had a child of his own and Dr. Mike was the baby’s doctor. We miss him so much and we love your whole family. –Just a friend
Dear Friend,
I was thinking the other day about the time my daddy taught me how to ride a bicycle without training wheels. I was six years old and had a hand-me-down bike from my cousin, Chris. It had a banana seat with flames on it. I thought I was Evel Knievel. My daddy made me practice in the back yard on the grass before I could ride on the cement driveway.
Daddy, in his colorful plaid pants, shirt with the big collar, and penny loafers would hold on to the back of the seat to steady the bike and run along with me as I pedaled as hard as I could. I would holler, “Don’t let go! Don’t let go!” and from some distance behind me, I would hear him say, “I already did! You are doing it!” I would look back and then consequently crash. He would make me get right back up and do it again.
Life sure is a lot like learning to ride a bike. We all need someone to hold us steady sometimes. We all need a push. And the one helping us has to know when to let go and allow us do it on our own. We must learn to only look back when necessary and even then to do it quickly and carefully or else we will crash into what is up ahead. When we fall, it is important to get right back on and do it again. I am glad my father made me get right back on even when I was scared. I am sure if mama was the one teaching me, she would have let me come inside.
Life is a balance. We all need our mamas to nurture us and kiss our boo- boo’s. Mamas are the ones we run to when we need some comfort. But it’s our daddies who make us get back on the bike. They are strong enough to hold us steady until we get it right.
Daddy didn’t give up on me. He believed in me and before too long, I was riding in the driveway with my big sister. For hours we would ride in circles playing Charlie’s Angels. Some imaginary bad guy would be on our tails and we would pretend our bicycles were motorcycles. Within a week, I was riding on the street and through empty parking lots on Sunday afternoons.
Daddy was an enlightened man. When I was fourteen, he told me, “To every valley, there are at least two mountains.” I think of him saying this quite often. I was crying in my bedroom, heartbroken over a boy when he stuck his head in my door way and said this to me. It has stayed in my heart all these years. It’s probably the best advice he ever gave me. Even when we are at the bottom of a valley, there are at least two ways up. It gives me hope. It was his way of holding me steady so I could start pedaling again. I have pedaled over many a mountain this way.
Happy Father’s Day to all the dads who hold the back of the bicycle. Thank you for running alongside us until we get it right. Thank you for holding us steady. And thank you for making us get back on when we fall.
(Daddy and my little sister, celebrating the birth of her first son 2008)
Daddy, we miss you so much. We wish you were here. We still need you. There are moments we are still lost and our hearts break into a million pieces when we want to see you. But we are mighty grateful that you were the kind of Daddy who held the back of the bicycle. Everything you taught us and the love you shared with others is in our hearts forever. I know you somehow watch over us. I don't know how it works, but it does.
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