Training Wheels

The sky was orange the day we let go. I don't know what possessed us to finally take off Spencer's training wheels 15 minutes before a severe thunderstorm was going to hit Lincoln. There was lightning in the western sky, the air was thick with a low-rumbling threat, and, for some reason, we decided it was time to take off the training wheels of our 6-year old's bike that he got from Santa Claus 8 months earlier.

He had been riding like a pro with all of the other kids in the neighborhood, zipping up and down the street, so Chris just got it in his head to take those training wheels off. Dad stood by with his hand on Spencer's back seat to steady it from any inevitable spill. He was ready to run with the newbie and save him from any road rash that might occur, when Spence just took off! Like a bird takes to the sky. Spencer rode his bike like he had been riding it since birth. No stumbles. No wobbles. No crash and burns. Cycling poetry. And then the rain came.

There is a large group of 9-6 year old boys in our neighborhood and they all "ride bike," mostly in the church parking lot across the street. (Sorry, Pastor Kim!) It's really cute how they all hang out, and I can only imagine the trouble that all of these boys are going to be getting into in 5 years. They love their freedom to roam. And all I have to do, if I need to find my boys, is look for the large assortment of bikes strewn across whichever family is lucky to be the "host" for that afternoon.

We live in Lincoln, NE. Not necessarily the safest city in the world, but pretty darn close. It's NEBRASKA for crying out loud. And our neighborhood tends to be pretty safe. At least a lot safer than the neighborhood I grew up in. Kids would come down to the pool over the summer and just leave their bikes on the grass. Kids ride their bikes to school and don't bother locking them. Sometimes I leave the house and don't even bother locking the door. (My hometown friends are shocked, I know!)

The boys were out playing last night. Rather than parking the bikes in the garage, (What happened to my street smarts?) we parked them right up next to the garage, in between the garage and the minivan, right up next to the house. I went to work at MilkWorks at 9:30am and came home at 12:30pm. Bikes still there. I went over to volunteer at the school at 1:40pm. Bikes still there. My Mary Kay co-hort Dana came to pick something up at 2:30pm, two bikes still in formation. We came home from school at 3:45pm. Spencer goes outside at 4:00pm to find....THAT HIS BIKE IS GONE!!!!!

Someone took it. The primary suspect is obviously a kid. One bike stolen=one perpetrator. If it was a group of International Bike Theives casing the joint in their Van of Evil, they probably would have taken both bikes. Which leads me back to the One Perpetrator idea. I could also guestimate that the perp had to have either been a Middle-Schooler (They get out at 3:00pm) or a Catholic School kid. (Out at 3:15-ish. At least, that's about the time that they walk by the house and cause my dogs to go crazy!!!!!)

The perp needed to be fairly brazen. The bike was stolen while positioned in between my minivan and the garage door. I had the blinds up and the house looked occupied. Someone had to have gotten close to the house and nabbed the bike without fear of someone being alerted by the obnoxious barking twosome from inside. (Although, one time a cat popped up and rubbed itself all over our deck. Rosie was, like, a foot away and never woke from her bone-dream slumber. Missed opportunity.)

Spencer cried for an hour after he found out what happened. And it truly broke my heart. Not just because someone took something special that belonged to him, but because he found out that there are people out there who really suck. People who will do really cruddy things to other people. For no good reason.

I tried to decide what to do. Money's tight. I just found out about a fantastic fundraising opportunity the PTA is doing: Cookie Dough-top seller wins a free bike! I know I have a lot of calorie-defiant friends and, with my entreprenueurial know-how, I knew we could win. But then I remembered that we have a popcorn fundraiser for the Boy Scouts and have to sell $600 worth of popcorn, (And yes, I will be calling you) so I changed my priorities.

So I decided to check Craig's List and see what used bikes were out there. I found one for $15 with all kinds of rust on it. I found another used one for $200, which wasn't worth what Santa paid for the original stolen bike. And then I thought to myself....it's not Spencer's fault that his bike got stolen. He is innocent. Why should he ride around someone else's crappy rusty old bike, just because some idiot stole his? Why should he suffer, not only the loss of innocence, but the humiliation of someone's broken hand-me-down just because someone decided to take what wasn't theirs to take.

I went online. Target had bikes for $59.99. We went and found a flashy orange one. Brighter and snazzier than his last one. With a kickstand. Spencer rolled that bike up to the register and I charged it. Debt police, you can come and get me later. Found out the bike was on sale! I saved $10! It was meant to be.

And the best part was that we learned quite the lesson, even though this bike never came with training wheels.

The Old Lady

Today, I became an old lady. I know 39 is not technically old, but when I told my dad how old I was going to be, he winced. I am officially middle-aged. I could live to 78. But that means half of my life is over. And what the heck did I do with it?

I have to admit to not remembering a whole lot over the past 39 years. Bits and pieces. But when I try to remember specific things, I can't. I wish I could. My 20-year high school reunion was last year and everyone was reminiscing about the "good old days" and all the trouble that we almost got caught for, and I don't remember much. My sister and mom are always remembering the funny, crazy stuff that happened when we were younger and I often find myself in a fog. I just can't remember.

Perhaps I can't remember things, because I am always focused on the present and worrying about the future. I'm a big worrier and I need to stop. If I have learned anything over the past year, is that I have NO CONTROL about what happens in life. No control over my career. No control over my children. No control over what happens from day to day. All I can do is continue to get up every day and try to be as nice as I can to people. Smile and be nice.

My birthday has been a combination of disappointments and joys. I got to work at my part-time job today and everyone called me on the phone (from other parts of the office) and wished me a Happy Birthday. A woman named Teresa (who could quite possibly give the famous nun with the same name a run for her money) gave me a birthday card and a vase filled with flowers. I love working with all women! (Which leads me to another question...why are women so much more into birthdays than men? Except for his 21st, you don't really ever hear of a bunch of guys getting together to celebrate some other dude's birthday. At least not without a bunch of tequila shots.)

The kids came home from school and started fighting. (Bad) Chris called and said he was taking me out to dinner. (Good) I had to clean the house-okay, part of it-before the babysitter could come. (Bad) Babysitter doesn't show up, got the wrong time. (Bad) Chris goes and gets takeout from The Oven (Good! I love Indian food.) The kids sing me Happy Birthday and when it comes to the part that goes "Happy Birthday dear....." they sing my real name instead of "Mommy." (Hysterical- I didn't think they knew my real name. I thought they just knew "Mom" and how to whine it from across the house.)

So bring on the next 39 years. Again, I will have no control over what happens. I'll just try to keep being nice to people. And maybe I'll have unexpected flowers, a clean house, a tummy full of spicy comfort food and kids who know my name. Or are at least around to sing me Happy Birthday.

Now, where is the Gingka Biloba?