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So when did I become the Kool-aid mom?  All I know is that I am lousy at it.  As I type I am sitting in my backyard on a gorgeous December day, but all I can think about is what those kids are doing to the interior of my house?  The neighborhood boy and his sister are playing with Michael and his toys in his room, make that the whole house.  What with the playing of the piano and no indication whatsoever of lessons, the pushing of each other down the hall on school bus push-car made for an 18th month-old until they crash into the louvered closet doors that are already lousy on the quality scale, and the coming out and telling me they need to poop—can they use the bathroom, I’m a little on edge?  They are good kids, but I LOVE my things, and visions of scratches on my furnishings, spills on the carpet, and broken closet doors have me as edgy as a cat in room full of rocking chairs.  Finally, they decided to go home, and I’m not sure whether I or my children did something to run them off or if they just knew it was time to go home.

Earlier today…

It was an early release day for Mikey, so I thought that we would go pick him up and then I would put Pierce in the jogging stroller and Michael could ride his bike the ½ mile or so up to the walking trail, and then I could turn him loose to practice on his training wheels till his heart was content.  Oh, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.  We padded every possible bony protuberance and set out.  I honestly didn’t know that a kid could fall that many times with training wheels on his bike, but apparently they can.  I was over parenting at every cross walk and trying to foresee any potential accident hazards like people on bikes coming in our direction.  I am sure this made his ride increasingly more fun.  Finally we got to the trail, and I thought we were home free for a good time—I’d be jogging to keep up and forced to get a good work-out which I desperately need.  Mmmmm…not so much…  We started off thirsty, thankfully I prepared for that, with some Capri Suns.  Then, the “My knee pads are bothering me, so I’ll just tip my bike over and fall off and lie here” started.  Well, yeah!  They hurt my pride just looking at you in them!  So we took them off.  Rode 10 yards, decided that maybe we should wear them, after all.  Then the elbow pads are pinching—“fix them!”  Then I restrain myself from shoving him and his bike off the path into the swamp.  Then he pedals a little further and says, “It’s just so hot and my legs are tired.  I don’t want to ride my bike anymore.”  I told him that he had to because otherwise we would be leaving the bike behind and hoping nobody steals it before we come back with the car to get it. He tries to upright it and drag it behind him with one hand, if he wasn’t being such an ass, I would have found it pitiful—instead I just got mad.  Two times, I said, “WE ARE TURNING AROUND AND GOING HOME!”  And twice he said, “I won’t be ugly anymore, I want to keep going.”  Never realizing that for every yard he pedaled away from the house, he would have to pedal it back.  And the whole “I won’t be ugly anymore” lasted less than a minute before he was threatening to leave his bike behind and break it.  To which I responded that he could do that but he wouldn’t get another one.  To which HE responded, “I will buy another one and then I’ll break it and leave it behind again, and then I will get another one and break it and leave it behind AGAIN.”  At this point I was several yards in front of him and trying not to listen—at least trying to look like I wasn’t listening.  We had actually turned around before this point to head back home when this whole dialog took place.  It was also immediately followed by “Sorry, mommy…I won’t be ugly anymore.  Can we turn around and go back down the trail?”  Yeah!  LETS!!  HECK NO!!!!  We continued on our way home, falling with fatigue and frustration every ½ a block or so, apologizing, being sweet, being ugly, being tired, being defeated, and finally being home.  Then he wanted me to take off the training wheels, and because they are a little bit of a hindrance, and I thought he might get a better idea of what is needed to ride a two-wheeler, so I did it.  One trip and two falls up the street—one lame tumble and one a little painful and we were done for the day.  I think I’ll be putting the extra wheels back on before our next try…but we likely won’t be going down to the trail again until he is a seasoned bike rider on a unicycle because I can’t take it!

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