Three Leatherman Laps

Last Saturday, I took Ella for a jog with me.  We did our usual 3-mile route, half of which is on the neighborhood streets, the other half on the nearby prairie path.  She sat in the BOB (our jogging stroller), constantly talking about something, sometimes singing Old MacDonald, sometimes complaining about running (as if she was) and never cheering me on or encouraging me to keep going.  With all of that, I really don’t know if she enjoys it as much as she lets on when I first ask her if she wants to go running; but I enjoy it, complaints and all.  Running with one of my kids in the BOB has been one of my favorite things to do as a parent.  And I know it’s short-lived, so I try to do it as often as possible.

When I first announced that I’d be going for a run with Ella, Cal said that he wanted to go.  Looking back, I wish we had bitten the proverbial bullet and just bought a double jogger after Ella was born –- this would have solved this very dilemma with which I had been faced on numerous occasions.  Since we hadn’t gone that route and just had a single jogger, I told Cal that it was Ella’s turn (it was) and that I would take him for a run tomorrow (Sunday).  He actually took this news pretty well.

Fast forward to Sunday morning.  Cal and I synched up on our plans to go for a run.  “We’ll go after your nap today, Baby Bear,” I told him.  “Yeah, we’ll go after my nap,” he replied, still eager to run with me.

Fast forward to post-Sunday nap.  I’m all ready to go for our run.  I think he’s still up for it, but he’s showing signs of wishy-washiness.  So Dan throws out a different option, “Or would you like to go for a bike ride, Buddy?”  Cal was interested.  “Or you can ride your tricycle (Dora big wheel) and Daddy and I will ride our bikes with Ella in the bike seat,” I presented as if it was my idea, but this is exactly what Dan had intended.  Regardless of who had the idea, Cal was all over it.

There would be no run.  There would be a family bike ride instead.

Cal on his Dora tricycle (circa September, 2012)

So imagine the scene: a helmeted Cal on his Dora trike, a helmeted Daddy on his bike following Cal, and a just behind Daddy a helmeted me on my bike with a helmeted Ella sitting in the bike seat attached to the back of my bike –- the helmeted Leatherman family riding as fast as Cal’s legs could peddle himself down the sidewalks in our neighborhood.

I don’t know if Dan had this in mind when we started, but our bicycle ride would be comprised of simple laps around the block, laps that involved a few left turns, no crossing of a street and very flat course.  In the end, we did three laps, described below.

Lap 1: Learn the Rules and Fall into Line

Our first lap was characterized by our collectively learning the rules of the bicycle ride and then falling into line.  First and foremost, Cal was to be the leader throughout.  No one was allowed to pass him, and anyone who did would be responsible for the near meltdown that would follow.  It’s not easy to ride an adult bicycle at the pace of a plastic Dora tricycle with two 4-year-old legs powering it, so I found myself drifting off of the sidewalk and into the street to weave at a faster pace yet still stay with the Leatherman pack.  A time or two, my bike passed Cal; and this didn’t go unnoticed by Cal.  It was met with a series of "NO!"s and some form of screaming insistence that he be the leader.  With this, I decided it was best for me to just fall back into my spot in line.

Secondly, and almost equally important to Dan, was that Cal was not to cross a street.  He was to stay on the sidewalk and turn left just before he reached an intersection.  Not that there’s much traffic in our neighborhood (one car may have passed us during our ride), but it was inherently safer and less controversial -- there would be no "reminders" to look both ways and no complaints about having to stop and re-start.  Cal surprisingly actually followed this rule without question or conflict; so it turned out to be an easy rule to learn and respect.

I don’t know if he noticed Cal’s knees hitting his chin as he peddled, but it was during the first lap that Dan deciphered that a little seat adjustment may help Cal to peddle Dora a little faster.  Good luck getting that past Cal, I thought to myself.  I had tried this in the Fall and failed to get acceptance.  Maybe a few months of toddler growth would change things… that and Dan’s involvement -- he’s generally less “influenced” by the kids than I.

So Dan adjusted the seat, explaining the whole time to Cal why he was doing so, basically that it would make peddling so much easier and faster.  Cal wasn’t buying it, whining about it the whole time; but Dan let it go in one ear and out the other and handed Cal his Dora trike with an adjusted seat.  Cal hopped on, peddled and flew down the sidewalk faster than he had ever gone on the trike, screaming complaints about the seat adjustment as he did so.  Eventually the complaining stopped (Cal never actually admitted how much better it was), but the peddling kept going.

Lap 2: My Whiny Backseat Driver

Shortly into the second lap, I started to hear Ella say, “no bicycle,” from behind me.  She may have been saying it during the first lap, but I was distracted by the goings on with Cal.  “No bicycle, Mommy,” she repeated, time and time again, her tone getting edgier and more pointed with each “no bicycle” statement that I was seemingly ignoring.  Maybe it’ll stop, I foolishly thought.

Eventually, I acknowledged her with a couple of options.  “Okay, Ellie, I’ll take you home and we can either go in the jogging stroller or stay at home.”

“Wagon,” she responded.

“No wagon – either the jogging stroller or stay at home.”  The wagon’s nice for casual walks, but I had no idea how fast I would need to go to keep up with the boys.  At a faster pace, I figured it’d be too awkward and unsafe.

“No bicycle!” she exclaimed.

Yeah, I got that.  We continued our back-and-forth, where she declared “no bicycle” and I responded with her options (stroller or stay home).  About two thirds through the second lap, I decided to do something more than just “fight” about it.  I fell out of line and caught up to Dan (not that there was much catching up to do) and informed him of the situation.  I then went ahead of Dan, caught Cal and sped ahead of him without announcing why.

“NO, MOMMY!”  Cal exclaimed.  “DON’T GO AHEAD OF ME!”

Clearly influenced by my screaming toddler, I responded with “I’m taking Ella home so we can get the stroller,” thinking this would be a legitimate (and incidentally truthful) excuse that Cal would buy.  “NOOOOOOO! DON’T GO AHEAD OF ME!!!” Cal responded.

So, like any backboneless Mommy would do, I fell back into my spot in line.

Then I realized what was happening – my 4-year-old kid was controlling me.  Wait... who's the adult here? I rhetorically asked myself.  So I sped ahead and left Dan to calm our upset Cal while I acquiesced to the wishes of our upset Ella.

Lap 3: Lose a Bike, Gain a Stroller

Ella and I quickly got to the house for our pit stop.  I unloaded her from the bike seat and set her on the ground.  She was still hung up on getting into the wagon, but I wasn’t giving in.  “Stroller or stay home,” I reminded her as I started to grab the BOB (I really wanted to continue our laps with the boys).

“Dis stroller!” Ella insisted, pointing at the tandem Joovy stroller ideal for carting two kids through a parking lot, mall and shopping-cart-less store.  Not ideal for a jog.

She was getting me on a technicality – I hadn’t specified the stroller I intended to use.  Nuts. Not wanting to further our disagreement on the mode of transportation to use, I caved.  “You want that stroller?” I asked.

“Yes,” Ella smiled.  So I loaded her onto the back (helmet still on her head) of the Joovy and headed out -- jogging, the little wheels of the stroller bouncing unsteadily over every crack in the sidewalk -- to catch up with the boys who had just passed our house.

We caught up quickly, and I found that a slow jog was too fast and an up-tempo walk would do just fine.  Perfect.

So we continued with our now bicycle/stroller ride still following the rules established early in the first lap, a helmeted Cal leading the pack, a helmeted Daddy following him, a helmeted Ella in the stroller following Daddy and an unhelmeted but content me pulling up the rear.  It turned out to be a pleasant third -- and final -- lap.

In the end, my jog-turned-bicycle ride-turned-stroller jaunt wasn't physically demanding like my jog with Ella had been the day before.  Instead, it was an exercise in patience, something I have to do every day as a parent and equally as challenging as jogging is for me.  I don't know if I'm doing this patience thing right; but I'm pretty happy with the outcome of this particular ride -- we got outside, we went for a ride, we were presented with some challenges, we made adjustments, and we finished with smiles on our faces.