Evolution of the After Dinner Walk Spanning 4.5 Years: Four Wheels to Two Wheels
One thing I love about my where I live are the welcoming, quaint neighborhood streets perfect (well perfect minus a few potholes here and there) for that stroll after dinner to digest your food and clear your mind before turning in.
From the beginning, one of my favorite "mom" activities was taking Jack for walks, especially at the end of the day as we were winding down for bedtime. He would be all snuggled up with his favorite blanket and stuffed Ducky in his car seat that latched right into his stroller, other wise known as the "full travel system". He would stare up at me going in and out of sleep while I would walk and walk, sometimes for an hour or so. It was a peaceful time for me, my meditation. My reward at the end of a long day.
A year passed and he was no longer laying in his stroller gazing up at me. Now he got to turn his body around facing forward in an upright stroller taking in all of the scenery. It was still peaceful. He would still go in and out of sleep, just taking in the scenery around him. Next came along the chatter. I would point things out as we walked and he would repeat after me pointing at the things we saw. He would say "hi" to people we passed and giggle at the puppies who greeted him with wet noses.
Another year and a half passed by and the stroller just wasn't cutting it. His interest in it dimmed. So that year, Santa with the help of a little elf named Mama delivered a brand new red wagon complete with loose metal washers that rattled rather loudly through the neighborhood streets during after dinner strolls. Over the rattle, rattle, rattle down the street, Jack's questions began. "Why do cars stop at stop signs?" "Why is that dog sitting in that yard?" "Why is there a truck in that driveway?" "Why is the sky blue?" Yet, the walk was still peaceful.
Today, two more years later, the after dinner walks still exist. The stroller gone, the wagon not so desired. Now it's the bike. A real boy's bike. Bright orange with the orange helmet to match. My walk is more of a run/ walk (more calories burned I guess) all the while, yelling, "Jack slow down", "Jack watch where you are going", "Jack, the brakes!" There's me, MOM walking/ running behind and alongside the boy on the bike. The big boy on the bike. His questions have turned to chatter and insights. As two teenage boys ride by on their bikes, I hear my boy say, "one of those boys isn't wearing a helmet. It must be because he doesn't want to mess up his spiky hair, but he's not being safe". He commented on the old parts of the sidewalk verses the new. He wondered why a lone flip flop lay on the ground, "whose is that?"
Tonight, I found myself in the "gray parenting area" where there is the fine balance of letting go and holding on. As our bike ride began tonight, I ran alongside him. I grabbed the handlebars and slowed him down when I thought he was going too fast. I was quick to tell him to use his brakes. I carried his bike (heavier than my own I might add) through the sandy pathway that leads to our street. On our way back home, I allowed, rather willed myself to step back and let him go (a few feet anyway). I watched this boy on his orange bike. I watched his legs work hard at turning the pedals. I watched his head look this way and that as he took in his surroundings. I felt his smile and sense of accomplishment as I watched from behind. I watched this boy on his orange bike as I took my after dinner stroll and it was peaceful.
From the beginning, one of my favorite "mom" activities was taking Jack for walks, especially at the end of the day as we were winding down for bedtime. He would be all snuggled up with his favorite blanket and stuffed Ducky in his car seat that latched right into his stroller, other wise known as the "full travel system". He would stare up at me going in and out of sleep while I would walk and walk, sometimes for an hour or so. It was a peaceful time for me, my meditation. My reward at the end of a long day.
A year passed and he was no longer laying in his stroller gazing up at me. Now he got to turn his body around facing forward in an upright stroller taking in all of the scenery. It was still peaceful. He would still go in and out of sleep, just taking in the scenery around him. Next came along the chatter. I would point things out as we walked and he would repeat after me pointing at the things we saw. He would say "hi" to people we passed and giggle at the puppies who greeted him with wet noses.
Another year and a half passed by and the stroller just wasn't cutting it. His interest in it dimmed. So that year, Santa with the help of a little elf named Mama delivered a brand new red wagon complete with loose metal washers that rattled rather loudly through the neighborhood streets during after dinner strolls. Over the rattle, rattle, rattle down the street, Jack's questions began. "Why do cars stop at stop signs?" "Why is that dog sitting in that yard?" "Why is there a truck in that driveway?" "Why is the sky blue?" Yet, the walk was still peaceful.
Today, two more years later, the after dinner walks still exist. The stroller gone, the wagon not so desired. Now it's the bike. A real boy's bike. Bright orange with the orange helmet to match. My walk is more of a run/ walk (more calories burned I guess) all the while, yelling, "Jack slow down", "Jack watch where you are going", "Jack, the brakes!" There's me, MOM walking/ running behind and alongside the boy on the bike. The big boy on the bike. His questions have turned to chatter and insights. As two teenage boys ride by on their bikes, I hear my boy say, "one of those boys isn't wearing a helmet. It must be because he doesn't want to mess up his spiky hair, but he's not being safe". He commented on the old parts of the sidewalk verses the new. He wondered why a lone flip flop lay on the ground, "whose is that?"
Tonight, I found myself in the "gray parenting area" where there is the fine balance of letting go and holding on. As our bike ride began tonight, I ran alongside him. I grabbed the handlebars and slowed him down when I thought he was going too fast. I was quick to tell him to use his brakes. I carried his bike (heavier than my own I might add) through the sandy pathway that leads to our street. On our way back home, I allowed, rather willed myself to step back and let him go (a few feet anyway). I watched this boy on his orange bike. I watched his legs work hard at turning the pedals. I watched his head look this way and that as he took in his surroundings. I felt his smile and sense of accomplishment as I watched from behind. I watched this boy on his orange bike as I took my after dinner stroll and it was peaceful.
I love the analogy. It's so true too. You want your kids to be Independant adults, but you also want to wrap them in bubble wrap.
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