I’m sure I’ve written this post before. This post that boils down to the fact that life with little people moves very slowly and it feels like you may never move on to the next thing. But then that next thing happens to remind you that time really is moving. And you wish you could go back to reassure your tired self in the past that it will come, whatever it is.
Well, all of that happened again today, so I hope you’ll grant me the grace to tell the story one more time.
A year ago I was challenged to post a photo a day of something for which I was thankful. Here’s my post from November 4, 2013:
Day 3: I’m thankful that this time went better than the last time. I’m also thankful for a Daddy that has more patience with the drama than me. : )
Can you hear it? Can you hear that my thankfulness was really frustration in disguise? For whatever reason I wanted so badly for her to learn to ride that bike. Because I kept seeing posts of her friends successfully doing the same. Because I had great visions of us exercising together. Because I was afraid she would outgrow this bike she chose for herself before she ever learned to ride it. Whatever the reason, it turned out that the more I wanted it, the more she pushed back that she couldn’t. And most trips to some flat parking lot for another go at it ended in a silent ride home from all sides.
So I pretty much gave up on the bike and moved on to other pursuits. Swimming. Reading. Getting Bubba out of diapers. I have a feeling my kids will grow up and tell stories about the unfortunate fate of having a teacher for a mom. There’s always something to teach ‘round here.
Except for this bike thing? I didn’t teach her. She did. Or maybe Bubba did. Or perhaps time did.
Two Wednesdays ago I came home from work to find Chica on her bike in the driveway. Our driveway is actually more like two slightly sloped parking spaces, but this turned out to work to her advantage. I gather that while Nana and Daddy were busy preparing dinner inside, she pushed that thing to the top corner of our driveway, hopped on, and glided down, just as she had seen Bubba do a million times on his tiny balance bike. This kid who used to withdraw like a turtle into her shell each time you mentioned the bike, just decided she would get on one day and do it, with no Daddy to catch her and no Mom to cheer her on.
So by the time I got home that Wednesday, she could do it. And it was fantastic, all 4 seconds from the top of the parking space to the porch. And I was reminded for the umpteenth time as a mom that they’ll do it, whatever it, is when they’re good and ready.
They’ll quit nursing.
They’ll use a cup instead of a bottle.
They’ll be able to be left alone for more than 5 seconds at a time.
They’ll fall asleep without having to be rocked.
They won’t act like you’re killing them when you drop them off at school.
They’ll wear BIG BOY UNDERWEAR!
When they’re good and ready.
So today as I watched her circle twenty laps around the New Covenant parking lot, first from her side and then from afar, I was reminded about time and good and ready.
When they’re good and ready…
They really will both sleep in their own bed one day from start to finish.
They will be able to dress themselves without help.
They will one day eat more than just PBJ, popcorn, and apples.
There will be no more need for pull-ups on our house, even at night.
Our whole family of four will go on bike rides without buggies or baby seats.
And I bet if I quit pushing and just let time do its thing, those good and readies will come even sooner.
P.S. Talk about time moving slowly. Today Nana bought a watch for Chica so that she could wear it on violin days and not miss her lesson. Chica is currently announcing every minute for us:
54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59…
It’s 8:20! In ten minutes it will be 8:30.
I finished my applesauce, Mom, and it’s 8:21.
Slowly, I tell you. Slowly. : )