One late afternoon, I found myself hunched over my laptop in the kitchen, lost in the digital world. Suddenly, the garden doors swung open, and in rushed my eldest son, Max, his cheeks flushed with excitement. He wore a helmet that was slightly askew on his head. “Mom!” he exclaimed, but I was too engrossed in my work to respond. “Mom!” he repeated, this time with more urgency, “I can ride a bike!” Now, he had my full attention.
We had bought him a gleaming new bike for his fifth birthday two years prior—a size up, since Max was taller than his peers. The bike shop guy had assured us it would be perfect for growth. But it turned out to be a miscalculation. Max is tall but cautious, and our attempts to ride on the street were somewhat of a disaster. I found myself gripping the back of the seat, desperately trying to keep him and the bike from toppling over, despite the very real threat of gravity and Max’s wobbly balance.
After a few lackluster rides, our enthusiasm fizzled. The rainy autumn quickly morphed into an even rainier winter, leaving the bike to gather dust and rust. During this time, Max welcomed his twin siblings into the family, and spring brought a fresh wave of chaos. With two babies to care for, I barely had the energy to dress myself, let alone teach Max how to ride. He found other ways to entertain himself outside, often without me.
As children grow, there’s an inevitable process of letting go. Sometimes it happens gradually, as birthdays roll around. Other times, like when two newborns enter the picture, it speeds up dramatically. I used to know every detail of Max’s days, but soon, I was tucking him in at night and hearing snippets of stories from last week that felt almost foreign in my hands. I realized I wasn’t holding onto him the way I once did, and in that newfound freedom, he was changing too.
That summer, Max made new friends—a challenge for him. Our home is part of a neighborhood that connects to a parking lot. A path leads from our garden gate straight to the backyards of neighboring houses, home to boys his age. They started calling for him to join their games, and at first, we hesitated. Was he old enough to wander just 100 meters alone? To run wild through the alleys, building forts and crafting secret missions? The other parents seemed to think so, and eventually, we agreed.
This group of kids became a regular sight. After school, Max would race home, ready to find his friends. They played inside during bad weather but thrived outside on sunny days, whizzing up and down the sidewalk, taking turns on each other’s bikes. It was a mini commune of bicycles—some with training wheels, some without, and others that were “balance” bikes, designed to teach kids how to ride by focusing on balance alone.
Isn’t this a perfect metaphor for parenting? In one scenario, we help them find their footing as they navigate the bumpy road to adulthood, even while they wobble. In the other, we support them, which feels safer at the moment but may delay their ability to stand strong on their own. It reminds me of how I used to “encourage” Max to walk when he was just 13 months old, dragging him around the room while he protested and buckled down. Those walks were for my benefit, not his, but I was too caught up in the moment to realize it. I rushed him through milestones, eager for him to tick off achievements like a checklist.
Of course, he eventually took his first steps, and I was there cheering him on. I was present when he used the potty for the first time, buttoned his shirt, and read his first word. But nothing compared to the pride in his eyes when he burst through the garden doors to show me that he had learned to ride a bike all by himself. What I inadvertently lost by not being there to teach him was softened by the joy he radiated in accomplishing something independently.
For parents, this is the essence of growing up: understanding that while the milestones we celebrate together are sweet, those that occur when we aren’t directly involved can be even more fulfilling. If you’re interested in learning more about parenting journeys or home insemination, check out this insightful post on intracervicalinsemination.com. For those considering their own paths to parenthood, Make a Mom has great resources, and if you’re curious about the IVF process, Parents offers an excellent overview.
In summary, parenting is a beautiful journey filled with milestones—some we witness closely, while others unfold independently. Embrace both, for each moment is a treasure that shapes our children’s growth into confident individuals.