So as most of you know (and if you are a fan on Facebook, you DEFINITELY know), that Mackay is in swim lessons. I don’t know who it’s been worse for, but it’s been a little bit stressful on both of us. That first day I could have trimmed every fingernail down with my teeth I was so nervous. And for good reason, too. She cried, arms outstretched to me, waiting for me to save her. (I pretended like I couldn’t see or hear her.) But she’s been doing well, and growing with leaps and bounds from where she began. After one of our last swim lessons, her teacher told me that she learned to float on her back all. by. herself. (This is HUGE.) And then I asked, “Does she know?” No. Of course not. And herein lies the biggest hurdle. Her actually believing she can do it. And then an instant flashback:
I was young, and just learning to ride a two wheeler. I’m not sure if it is the first or second time I learned (yes, I had to learn two summers in a row because I forgot.) And of course I was learning on the old blue bike that was my older brother’s and my uncle’s before that. (All I wanted was pink and streamers and maybe a basket. Too much to ask?) Anyway, so I would get on the bike, and my dad would stand behind me holding the seat. I’d get going and he’d start running. Everything would be going really well, but I had to make sure my dad was holding the seat. So every 10-15 seconds or so, I would stop pedaling, let go of the handlebars, and reach back for my dad. Causing me to crash. Usually for those 10-15 seconds I was doing it all on my own, but I didn’t realize or believe that, and I would still reach back to make sure my dad was there. Eventually they had to get a video camera. I remember being in the elementary school parking lot, my grandma leaning up against our car holding the giant video camera that could rest on her shoulder. They got it all on tape. When they replayed it for me to see, I realized how ridiculous I looked. I was doing it! I was riding my bike all by myself. But I lacked the confidence to know that I could do it. And I would always reach back for my dad. Who had to hurry and run to catch up to me before I completely biffed it on my bike. I was my own demise. (Complete opposite of my youngest brother, who actually bent the training wheels up on his own because they were just getting in his way.)
So now here I am. I can totally ride a bike, thanks to my dad and the video camera who could tell me the truth. Though I will never like trail riding and I don’t feel a need to go down a steep hill really fast. And now I’m watching my own daughter, in the same predicament as me. And I’m realizing she is an exact copy of me. Physically, she is capable of anything. But mentally, it’s just. too. scary.
I guess it’s payback. Didn’t your parents always tell you they wished an exact replica of a child on you when you had kids? I’m pretty sure mine did.
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