No.1 will be 7 in a couple months. He has been riding a bike with training wheels since he was 4. I can't say we're that family that goes on weekly bike rides, because we're not. We live at the top of a very steep hill and then the road kind-of-sort-of-not-really levels out. Instead of riding on the street like most kids, No.1 (and No.2 now) ride on the porch.
It wasn't until last year that No.1 got up the nerve to ride his bike to karate (located really close to our home through our back neighbors neighborhood). As No.1 improved and became less and less nervous about going faster than he could walk, we tried taking the training wheels off. Not ready.
Two months ago we made a deal with No.1: Learn how to ride a two-wheeler and you'll get a new bike (he's out growing this one - remember he got it when he was 4). So, the Lightning McQueen bike has remained training wheel-less on the porch for these last 60 or so days. Oh, every once in a while No.1 would try to ride it around the porch (eventually leading me to remove all the screens on the porch windows because he kept crashing into the house), but he just didn't want to try riding it on the road again.
Well, today I asked if he wanted to ride his bike to karate. "Yes!" (Hooray!) He asked if I was going to put the training wheels back on, but I told him no more training wheels. "OK." (Double Hooray!)
I pulled his helmet off the hook, dragged his bike across the backyard, down the neighbors hill and onto the street. No.1 clicked his helmet and climbed on the bike. So far so good, I though. Now, to get him to go.
To my surprise, my Nervous Nellie of a son started peddling! He peddled for about 1.5 seconds before peddling straight into the ditch. I caught him before he completely fell over. I didn't want him to skin his knees or tear his gi. I held onto his handle bars to help him steer when he climbed back on, but was quickly shooed away. So, I held his seat. That lasted about 4 seconds before he asked me to let go.
Let go? You've never asked me to "let go!" before. You always beg me to hold on. I felt a little crushed, a little unneeded, unwanted, and nervous. I felt so nervous for him. What if he did get hurt? What if he gets scared and forgets to break before putting his feet down and flips onto the rocky pavement? What if he ends up breaking an arm? My nervous for him greatly outweighed any selfish feelings that fleeted through my mind.
I want to protect him - all the time. If I can keep him from harming himself, I want to be able to do that. I don't want him to hurt. I don't want him to be sad. I don't want him to feel pain. But what I want, I realized, is not what's best for him. No.1 needs to experience those things, and many more unpleasant things to become a well-rounded and self-sufficient individual able to help himself (and others) through difficult times.
So, I let go. I let go, and do you know what happened?
He crashed.
I bet you thought I'd share this marvelous tale of how he rode perfectly, did a few wheelies, impressed a passing driver and now has a contract for BMX. Ok, so maybe that's too much, but the real story is even better.
When he crashed, he crashed safely. He put his foot down and sort of rolled. No injuries (no torn gi). He then realized that he wasn't quite ready to try the hill we were going down, asked if we could just walk the hill, of course, then was ready to try again at the bottom.
No.1 sat down, kicked off, and peddled. He was actually peddling and balancing a two-wheeler! He started laughing a wonderful laugh that just melted my heart. It was the laughter of pure joy, accomplishment, excitement, with a splash of nerves. I whipped out my camera hoping to capture it, but couldn't get it in time before he faltered and fell over.
Our trip to karate continued with more riding than falling. We arrived 6-minutes late (our 5-minute walk turned into a 15-minute bike ride), but I didn't even care. My boy was so proud of himself. He was just thrilled! He did something all by himself. Something no one could really help him do. He did it! It was hard, it was scary, it was frustrating, but he did it. He was able to experience those incredible feelings of self-accomplishment because I had let go.
So, here's to letting go.
Here's to letting them learn.
And here's to a Better Mommy Me.
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