Bravery, Pint-Sized

After our trip to the movies a few weeks ago, we topped off our day of fun with a visit to Toys R Us so Punky could pick out her new big girl bike. Technically she could still ride her tricycle this year because it's really high and meant for kids up to age five, but it just isn't an option for the rocky, muddy, bumpy campground roads she will face most of the summer.  And she really wants to keep up with her crazy cousin but the tiny, solid rubber wheels on her tricycle are no match for a seven year old boy with a kick-ass two-wheeler sans training wheels.

Santa almost brought her a new bike this year, but we advised him against it in the end.  We thought it would be more fun for her to pick out exactly the kind she wants, plus it would give her a special treat to look forward to through the long, cold, snowy, shitty winter.  Oh, come on, I've hardly written at all for months.  You didn't think I'd pass up the opportunity to bitch about Mother Nature's bullshit antics this year, did you? She needs a throat punch.

Anyway, it didn't take Punky long to decide on a sparkly purple Hawaiian-themed bike which truly surprised me.  I fully anticipated something Disney Princess-y or Barbie-ish, all pink and good-girly like, not something cool and funky with iridescent glitter, stylin' palm trees, and white tires with knobby tread to tackle the worst terrain her little legs can handle.  Of course, the bike she chose was out-of-stock at the store and I thought for sure she'd change her mind and settle for something else.  But, ultimately she liked the purple one enough to wait the whole three days it took them to ship one to our house.  The three days were easy compared to the two hours it took her dad to assemble it once it arrived.  

True to their ritual, Punky danced around him in circles, touched things she shouldn't, moved pieces and tools out of his reach, and asked seven hundred forty two questions about the purpose of each part strewn about the floor and if he would be done putting it together soon.  I was grateful that all but the last fifteen minutes of assembly took place before I got home from work.

It wasn't even forty degrees that day, and the sun was less than a half hour away from disappearing for the night, but Punky insisted on taking her first ride on her new wheels.  We bundled her up and headed out for a quick trip around the neighborhood just to make her happy and see how she handled her new toy.

I have to say her dad and I were both impressed. Getting her to pedal and steer her tricycle seemed to take forever, so I guess we just expected a similar learning curve with the new bike, but there was no curve whatsoever. She hopped on and took off, much faster and farther than we anticipated for her first attempt at riding a two-wheeler with training wheels.  Based on that initial ride alone, I think the training wheels will bite the dust before summer's end.

Over the past few weeks she's had several opportunities to practice riding, steering, coasting, and stopping on her new bike.  She caught on fast, but we knew the first dump was inevitable.  We tried to prepare her by telling her, and even demonstrating, how to put her feet down if she feels the bike tipping and how to let go of the handlebars and just fall instead of trying to hang on and save it.  It was an ugly waiting game, I tell you, and it finally ended this afternoon when her beautiful, little face met the road in a bloody scene.  

I was walking behind her as she made her way around the loop in the neighborhood, but she got a bit too far ahead of me when I saw a van backing out of a driveway.  I yelled for her to stop, and then she saw the van about ten feet ahead of her and panicked.  She tried to turn and stop at the same time on a patch of gravel and it didn't end well, mainly because she forgot everything we said and kept her feet firmly planted on the pedals and her hands gripped to the handlebars.  Her face broke her fall.

I watched the bike tip over in slow motion as my own panic mode kicked in, and my heart jumped into my throat when I saw the blood running from her nose and mouth.  Her dad heard her cries and quickly ran to help me out.  He carried the bike home; I carried my crying baby girl.  

While she sat sobbing on the bathroom counter, I cleaned up her boo-boos, examined her teeth, kissed her incredibly fat upper lip, and told her the story of how she had the exact same busted lip injury right before Easter three years ago.  She said her lip was throbbing so I offered her a small dose of Tylenol and a Popsicle to help with the swelling.  As soon as she finished it, she did something I never expected.

"Come on, Mommy, let's go!"

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Back outside for another bike ride! I can do it, Mommy, I'm not scared! Please!"

Well, how could I say no to that?  I am so proud of my brave little peanut. I've said many times that Punky favors my sister a lot, and when my sister had a bad bike wreck one year, she didn't ride again for the rest of that entire summer.  I didn't think Punky would be that extreme, but I expected her to hesitate a bit.  I thought it would take at least a day or so to regain her confidence, not twenty minutes.

I managed to log 21,139 steps (nearly nine miles) today, most of which occurred while I walked/jogged behind her as she pedaled around the neighborhood.  Looks like I should have no trouble staying in shape this summer, but I better invest in a new pair of running shoes.  And more bandaids and Popsicles.

The Locker Room

Lately Punky's been on a roll with new experiences and today was no different.  She was invited to a birthday party for a little girl in her class at school.  This is the first time anyone in her group invited the class and Punky was over-the-moon excited, partly because it was the first party with her friends and partly because it was a swimming party at the YMCA.

I had to buy her a new swimsuit for the party, since the one she had last year was tight by the end of the season, and of course I had to pick up a present for the birthday girl.  I imagine this birthday party stuff will get expensive quick once Punky starts kindergarten and is invited to a party every other weekend.  And it's hard to decide what to buy for kids I know nothing about.  Punky chose a mermaid Barbie for her classmate.  I hope her friend loves them as much as she does.

After pizza, and cake, and presents, it was finally time to head to the pool. The excitement in the locker room was immense as all the little girls scrambled to get into their suits and out to the pool. Screechy, high-pitched giggles echoed through the tiled room as they compared the various colors, patterns, and styles of their bathing suits.  I don't often have the opportunity to observe Punky with her peers so I enjoyed taking it all in.

My mind drifted back to my own youthful past.  I remember those days of giggly girl fun.  I remember the skating parties, the slumber parties, the party when one brave mom took two carloads of awkward, clumsy, pre-teen girls to an enormous walk-through haunted house that sparked the earliest bout of insomnia I ever remember having.  I remember the hours upon hours of boy talk when we discussed in great detail who we would marry, where we would live, and the quantity and names (first, middle, and last) of our perfect, future offspring.  We were blissfully innocent, ignorant to how the real world works, full of hope and excitement for our futures, and for a split second I almost wished I could go back in time...

Then, one little girl made a snide remark about another's freckle-covered shoulders and my daydream ended abruptly.

On one hand I'm so excited to watch Punky grow up and have all those experiences, but my heart sinks when I think of all the not-so-fun moments that are bound to accompany them. Peer pressure is rough. Fitting in is not always easy.  Best friends will come and go.  Crushes will break her heart. And kids will pick on kids for the tiniest little things.  That moment in the locker room reminded me of just how hard growing up can be.

I honestly don't think I'd voluntarily go back through adolescence for any amount of money in the world.  Maybe if I could keep the wisdom I have now at forty, I'd consider it.  On second thought, no, I wouldn't even want to under those circumstances.  Kids are mean.  Adults don't understand anything.  And I had acne issues.  Even though it would be my escape from forty, I'd still pass.

Punky is sitting at the very beginning of the long journey through school to adulthood.  I hope I can guide her through it, not just as her mom, but as her friend.  It's bound to be one hell of a trip, for both of us.