Enjoy the Ride

The other day, my middle child Paul ran up the stairs and called to me. "Mom," he yelled through the house, "you've gotta come see this!" Even though I was right in the middle of something (a good book, actually), I went out to have a look. 

There lay Jake, my youngest, his body wedged between two plastic bike jumps. Paul hopped on his bike and pedaled down the street. I could see what was coming. Sure enough, Paul made a u-turn, then sped toward the jumps--and his younger brother, who was now covering his eyes. Two neighbor kids watched from across the street as Paul and his trusty bike flew through the air, sailing over Jake's little body like Evil Knievel incarnate. There was a pause, and then Paul landed with a heavy thump. He yelped in victory as the neighbor kids cheered. I stood speechless, my mouth hanging open, my hand shading my eyes from the sun. 

"Did you see that?" Paul asked me. Now this is where I wonder something about myself. Curiously, instead of being terrified of the whole thing, I thought it was actually kind of cool. Plus, my youngest seemed to enjoy it, and there were no broken bones. But as a mother, wasn't I supposed to say something like, "Stop riding your bike over your brother"? Probably. Instead, I said, "Let me get my camera," and dashed into the house to record the event.

As I unzipped my camera bag, the thought occurred to me--with a twinge of guilt--that I was more concerned with taking pictures than my kids' safety. And then I thought of a book I love, written by Dodie Smith called I Capture the Castle. Smith creates a charming narrator who is trying to learn to write by recording everything that goes on around her. When her sister begins to cry because she can't find a boyfriend, let alone a husband, the narrator fails to comfort her. She's too busy getting the whole scene on paper to put down her pen. "I begin to see that writers are liable to become callous," she writes. You could possibly make that claim about photographers, too. 

At any rate, I did have the presence of mind to suggest Jake wear a helmet the second go-round. (Or maybe it was his older brother who thought of that.) After shooting a few practice shots, I got myself in position. Paul rode down the street and waited for me to give him the signal. 

Just at that moment, a woman with a trail of four children came walking down the opposite side of the street. She stopped when she saw what was going on. "Oh my," she said, blocking her entourage with her arm. "Is that boy really going to ride his bike over that child laying on the sidewalk?" she asked. I wasn't sure who she was talking to. I hoped it wasn't me. I couldn't exactly pretend that I didn't know what was going on. After all, I was standing in the street holding a camera focused on "that child laying on the sidewalk." 

I turned and smiled weakly. "Um, yes," I said. Then I turned around and hollered, "Go for it!" 

Paul sped down the sidewalk, his shirt whipping in the wind, his face deep in concentration. When his front tire reached the edge of the first jump, Paul yanked the handlebars and stood on the pedals. His bike lifted, clearing his brother's head in a miracle of physics, which I never did understand, but in that moment greatly appreciated. There was silence as Paul and his bike hung in the air. When he came down on the second ramp, his audience yelled a collective "wow", including myself and the woman across the street. However, I noticed she was shaking her head as she said it. I imagined she was shaking her head at me, calling me an irresponsible parent under her breath. Maybe she was right. But then again, maybe not.

There are times when I don't want to watch my children explore the world. It's too dangerous, you see. Sometimes, I stay up all night worrying about the many different ways they could get hurt. They could fall and break something, like a bone, their heart, or their spirit. They could sprain their ankle playing soccer. Or break their arm climbing a tree. Or they might get hit by a car as they ride home from school. And it's entirely possible that some kid on the playground will humiliate them in some way that will require years of therapy to fix. Often I wonder how my kids will ever survive childhood, let alone adulthood. I fret about how I will ever stitch them up each time they come home for a bit of healing. And I fear that there are some things--lots of things, really--that I won't be able to fix.  

My mother probably worried about the same things. And yet, she still sent me out into the world. I won't lie to you. I did get hurt, and often. But Mom taught me to get up again, no matter how much the odds were against me (although a few self-defense lessons would have come in handy on the playground). I'm glad she did. Because if I had gone into hiding after sustaining my first wound, I never would have met some incredible people and never would have seen some amazing things. All of those fractures of the spirit stitched up beautifully with time, gifting me with empathy, understanding, and strength. Had I never been hurt, I never would have known the peace and gratitude that comes with healing. If doors had never closed on me, windows would never have opened to better things that I didn't know even existed. And if I had never experienced the ending of things, I never would have experienced the beginning of things.

So if there's one thing I've learned about being a mother, it's that you have to enjoy the ride--even if that ride involves two bike jumps, your youngest child, and the daredevil of the family concocting an act worthy of Las Vegas. Just close your eyes, hop on, and always wear a helmet. Oh yeah, and don't forget your camera.  

Comments

[SHELBY]

Crazy! I cringed just looking at the pictures!

[Paisley Kleinhenz]

When you sons get older and tell that story, they are gonna tell it with pride! My mother let us do all kinds of things that other mother's would snub their nose at, such as water fights IN the house- she usually started them! It creates a whole world most kids miss out on and it makes for GREAT childhood memories!

[kayla]

SOOOO FUN!!! I agree and love the don't forget helmet and CAMERA!!!

[LisaW]

When I read the first part of your post and saw the picture I felt as though I could be the woman with the four children walking down the street (only I don't have four children and I wasn't actually walking down your street:) Then I kept reading and I must say....I love your blog and how you help me look at life in new ways! I feel a desire to incorporate more of this attitude towards life. Thanks!

[MaryB]

Holy Cow! Your boys are so adventurous...but they weaken my heart! I'm so impressed at how brave they are all the time. You're doing a great job raising your kids to not be afraid, to explore, and to learn and understand what they're capable of. I applaud you and Rick as parents and your boys for taking full advantage of their childhood!

[Katie]

I'm only sad I didn't get to see it! You'll have to let people know next time, maybe charge $2/person to view the show. (Funds can give you a cushion if there is an injury.)

Shaelie sprained her foot/ankle/something last week when she fell off the monkey bars. She told me she was never going to do the monkey bars again, and so I went out there and did it with her right then, sprain and all. They need to learn that things happen, not everything goes right--take risks. If they don't, they'll never grow, learn, create, explore. They'll never live.

Fun!

[michelle]

Eeek... good thing you did not have to explain to an ER doctor what happened. Our friends think I am way too controlling of our kids. Maybe I need to learn a bit from you today.

[LauraB.]

This is so like Paul and Jake. How funny! This is also why I don't like to hear about my kids adventures until after they are over.

[Nicole]

I laughed so hard--wish I was there to see it!
This is going to be my girl's reading assignment for tonight. I loved it!