Oops isn't bad

Major milestone for my 7-year-old this weekend: she rode her bike without training wheels.

Here she is.

Of course, this happening cements my status as a card-carrying member of the Run-behind-your-kid-while-she's-learning-to-ride-a-bike,-let-go-and-pray-that-she makes-it Club. Despite the existence of many other, "developmentally friendlier" methods for teaching kids...I failed at everything but the method my grandfather chose for me. Biking on grass, rolling down a hill, pedals off the bike all failed. Crazy, eh?

The older my kids get, the more I am struck by the fact that I can beam for my child in a way that I cannot for anything I do. Sounds dumb and obvious, I know, but I *GET* what my mother means when she says she's my biggest fan club; I am glowing for Charlotte's success, just as I ached for her frustration with the bike, and for her struggle to defeat her own inner demons of "Need for Perfection" and "Fear of Falling."

The low point for this little girl fell around last summer. It went something like this:

Friend:(whizzing by on bicycle without training wheels) Hi Charlotte. Hey, is that your bike? You STILL have training wheels?
Charlotte: (looking embarrassed...standing next to her brand new bike that I was getting ready for her) Uh, no, it's my sister's.
Friend: Yeah, it is kind of babyish.

Watching your kid fib because of her shame, lying to a girl who we've come to understand sometimes puts Charlotte down as a "first-grader" (the girl is 1 grade ahead) takes sad to another level. Maintaining good self-control, I packaged the "friend" securely into a Large UPS box and waited for the next UFO bound for Jupiter. 3 Day Select, of course - Next Day Air is pricey.

So...watching her tear-streaked face yesterday as we tried yet another "better" method for learning to ride a bike, I consciously switched (like in "Over the Top," for those needing a Sly Stallone, cheesy 80s reference) to "re-framing mode." I think I might have channeled T. Berry Brazelton, since my own ability to stay 100% positive pales in comparison (sometimes) to that of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Maybe worse. Sometimes.

Charlotte: (crying) I CAN'T DO IT, Daddy! I'm scared. I hate my bike.
Me: But sweetie, you just did it a little bit. Didn't you feel it?
Charlotte: No.
Me: Sure you did. There was a tiny little time where I let go and you did it by yourself. (accentuating the positive).
Charlotte: But I keep saying in my head, "I can't."
Me: Well, say "I can!" And if you go off balance, say "Oops!" instead of "I can't."

Charlotte manages to go several 2-3 second stints on our next pass through the school parking lot.

Me: Wow! That's a "Yes" world record! Before, you were all "nooooooooooooo-yes-no-yes-nooooooooooo" for time staying up, and that time, you were very much "yessssssss-nooooooooooooo-yes-no-yessssssssssss-noooooooooooo." (Demonstrated yes and no by drawing line with my finger on her handlebar pad).
Charlotte: Really?
Me: Yup. Let's do it again!

Unbelievably, Charlotte proceeds to ride about 150 yards without falling, without my hand on the seat. Finally needs catching when she needs to turn, pulling a cartoon-character-over-a-cliff kind of routine.

Me: (cackling...seriously cackling) That's a "Yesssssssssssssssss" WORLD RECORD! Wooooooooooooooohoooooooooooooooooooooo! (BIG HUG)
Charlotte: (absolutely grinning) What was the line like that time?
Me: (tracing line on her handlebar pad, past the pad) That was all "Yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss." (tracing line past handlebar pad, up handlebar, up her arm, tickling her armpit) You should be so proud of you!
Charlotte: You know how I did it, Daddy? I thought "I can. I CAN!" the whole time! I didn't even say oops at all!

Glad I could satisfy the energy needs of my county from the amount of pride, relief, and joy that boiled off of me that day. I love that kid.

Now she just needs to learn how to stop.

First post!

I never thought I would blog, but I have enjoyed reading other doctors' magazine columns that were essentially blogs, so...why the heck not?

For those interested, I am a late-30s pediatrician. I have 3 daughters and a lovely wife - and lovely does not begin to describe her. She is lovely for all that she is, and because I know what she does all day long, because other Moms tell me what she does...by telling me what they do. When I come home, and she says to me, "Bleh, I didn't get anything done today..." and then proceeds to tell me about how she...

• Fed the baby - 5 times.
• Got the kids to school.
• Did the laundry.
• Talked to both of our mothers.
• And my sister.
• Put away the laundry.
• Got the kids from school.
• Put our almost-5 year-old in time out, likely more than once, for any one of the following: screaming, screaming, screaming, pounding on her older sister, not listening, or screaming.
• Made dinner while helping our 7 year-old with her homework, dealing with the baby screaming, and amusing our almost 5 year-old.
• Maybe bathed 1-3 of them (if I get home late, or if the baby exploded in poop)
• (I'm sure I forgot something)
  

...or maybe just says, "I have no idea what I did today," I say to her, "Really? You didn't do anything??"

I see a lot of different people from all walks of life - from kids of recently emigrated families to kids of CEOs of huge companies. And, because pediatrics is fun, and because having 3 girls (and having grown up in a house with 2 sisters) is always entertaining, I am betting most of my thoughts in this blog will revolve around the silliness of my 3 girls, straight truth from mucus-y 4-year-olds, and general gobbledygook about pediatrics and my own search for ways to be a better pediatrician.

As for Crumbs in the Carpet? We all have them, they're tough to get out of the carpet unless you REALLY try, and kids will eat them if you let them.