Robo Kid and the Bike

This is Robo-Kid. He's seven.

Robo-Kid was born on a gorgeous fall day back in 2011. My Midwest Bestie, who is a very talented doula, was in town for one week, and we were starting to get anxious that he was going to wait until she left to decide to come out. He didn't, but she didn't get to be at the birth either.

That morning, I woke up early. Jesse had gone into the office for work, which was about an hour away, and that meant that he left around 5. I got up an hour later and started to feel like maybe things might be moving along, but didn't want to jinx it by announcing it to the world. When MWB got up at 7, I told her (because she was my doula) that things were happening. She said,

"What do you need?" and proceeded to make eggs for my other kids, who were starting to stir. I took a shower and had more contractions. She asked me how things were going, and I said,

"Okay, but I think it's going to be a while, so I'm just going to go down to my room and hang for a bit!"

At that point I texted Jesse and asked him to come home, but I still didn't think things were moving very quickly.

I spent the next hour in my room, refusing to talk to anyone (because apparently I am a giant bitch while in labor) and denying that things were progressing.

When Jesse got home, he called our midwife, who told us to come in immediately. Jesse relayed her orders to me and I refused. (See above RE: giant stubborn bitch.)

Finally, I saw the sense in going to the birth center. We got in the car, and ten minutes down the road, Jesse pulled over, and I pushed out Robo-Kid, on the side of an Oregon country road.

Basically, that's Robo-Kid. He does what he wants, on his own time, in his own Robo-Kid way, including being born.

For years, Jesse and I have been trying to get Robo-Kid to ride a bike. He figured out tricycles very quickly and has excellent hand/eye coordination, so we figured that a bike would be a piece of cake.

It was not a piece of cake. It was a mess. He struggled for two years. He would ride the bike with training wheels, but wouldn't countenance the idea of riding without them, and the bike was getting too small. We took the training wheels off in Montana, thinking that perhaps a little tough love was necessary. He simply refused to touch the bike at all after that.

But one day, while we were in Mississippi at a tiny RV park with almost no amenities, he decided to ride. He took the bike out of storage, watched his older brother for a few minutes, got on, and rode quietly around the track. Then he did it again. And again. And over and over again, until he could go fast, slow, one handed, and standing up.

There are challenges that come with a kid this stubborn, but he's nonetheless a joy.