Only One Text Away

I was already rattled sitting in the corner of the ice cream shop full of ghosts when a guy with a knife in his head pushed the door open and screamed. Right after that three laughing zombies slapped their rotting hands against the store window right in front of me. While this was going on, my wife Amy and I waited patiently (or impatiently for me) for our youngest Bryce to get her ice cream. 

It was Saturday night before Halloween and downtown was frenetically hopping with ghouls, goblins, and creative costumes of all kinds. Bryce had finished two shows as the ghost "Nun Ancestor" in The Adams Family musical with her cast mates and they all wanted ice cream. We'd seen the opening night the night before and it was fabulous, but this also meant that there would be other nights where we'd have to pick Bryce up late after the shows we didn't go to.

We survived the pick up and got home safely. Because we're not usually out this late anymore being home-body parents who like to be snuggled at home watching TV before bed, it was wild to see so many people young and old out (mostly young, though). We kept joking with each other driving to and from picking up Bryce as to where the heck are all these people going. Where were all these college partiers going? Amy kept threatening me that we'd go get our Halloween costumes back on and go find the parties.

Woot! Nope.

Now that both our kids are doing more things independently and are out and about more often, we're having to transport them here and there and everywhere. All, the, time. Now that Beatrice is in high school she has a different schedule than Bryce does in middle school most days during the week, so that means different pick-up times during the week. It gets more complicated when Bryce is in theater and choir, and Beatrice might do theater in the spring. Beatrice is also hanging out more with her friends socially, meeting downtown or going to parties (not college parties yet, thank goodness). And then there are special events the kids want to go to and so much more. 

Back and forth, here and there, to everywhere. Fortunately Amy and I have flexible schedules and we can make it all work. And we know there are much busier families than ours with kids who play competitive sports, have after school jobs, and more. Beatrice will be working next summer as a paid camp counselor, which is something she very much wants to do. 

Back and forth, here and there, to everywhere. There's the occasional reprieve because Bryce rides her bike to and from school at least once a week, although collectively we're just not a ride-your-bike family. The kids also ride the city bus in town as it's free to students, so that's another positive reprieve. Amy also coordinates with other parents sometimes to share rides with their friends, so that's helpful, and we're the family that is always willing to give the other kids rides when needed. 

Back and forth, here and there, to everywhere. With gas prices as high as they are, this is when we wish we had an electric vehicle, at least for in-town driving, but even that doesn't pencil out in the short-term. We may be the Uber parents without a paying app, but we're still only one text away and wouldn't have it any other way.

Never Say Never to Ever

In 1975, my sister and I rode our bikes over four miles round trip to school and back home again. I was 10 years old and she was 8. We rode through what was at the time part new housing development and part walnut orchard. In fact, the last half mile to school was through a creepy walnut orchard, one where legend spoke of a scary orchard owner who would shoot you onsite with a shotgun full of rock salt.

Yikes.

Fortunately for us, we never ran into said scary orchard owner with shotgun. Never happened, and I don't remember any of our friends who rode or walked through the orchard every running into anyone near that description. No, each round trip was pretty uneventful, just to and from school, though the chilly fog of winter, and the super hot of early summer and fall.

We rode our bikes everywhere. To the nearby mall, to the donut store after I finished by paper route, to baseball and flag football practice. To school and back. Everywhere.

I've had a bicycle most of my life, and then after the Mama (what I lovingly call my wife) and I got together, we had our own bikes that we rode along the ocean where we live. Considering how environmentally and health conscious folks are here in Santa Cruz, we were only hobbyist bike riders during the warmer months. A lot of hiking, running and walking year round, but not much bike action.

Then we had two children, and our bikes sat for years rusting under plastic tarps in our backyard. Even after our girls started experimenting with little bikes with training wheels and a tiny push bike without pedals, they weren't big fans. I'm sure that had something to do with the fact that we weren't riding our bikes, and they didn't really ride with other friends either. Needless to say, bike-to-school day isn't a big hit with the B-hive. We really thought we'd never be a biker family some day.

Plus, we're really too far away and live down a big hill for them to ride their bikes to their school, and unlike when we were little, they wouldn't be riding by themselves for years to come, even if they did dig their bikes. That's a whole other post about traffic and safety and free-range resistance for another time.

Beatrice started riding a razor scooter more than a bike, and Bryce preferred the non-pedal tiny racer bike, and that's where we've been for some time now. Flitting around here and there on the street above us or an empty parking lot below us was the extent. And then, a new boldness took hold, and the girls wanted to start going down the little hill on our street -- very, very fast. Of course, being the good parents we were, we watched out for cars while they burned rubber and tore around the corner off the hill.

One thing led to another, and when I was on one of my work trips, Beatrice and Bryce both wanted to start riding their bigger bikes (that were rotting in the garage). Just like that. Presto.

Who'd a-thunk we'd be dusting off and pumping up the tires of our decaying bikes and adjusting our bike helmets once again to join in on the bike-riding fun. As adults, we're too quick to say "forget it -- no way" when it comes to trying new or old things and taking risks and simply just making the time to do it. Never say never to ever when it comes to your kids, that's for dang sure. More #BhivePower for me, please.