Team Gray!

8/19/04, 1:57 P.M.

We just got back from our first big bike expedition. We rode the 1 ½ blocks to Martin Luther King Westwood (MLK) elementary school.

First I took down all the bikes that were hanging up—four total; Joy’s was already down. I assembled the bike buggy for Esteban, and put air in Yani and Mani’s tires. Mani had a panic attack at the thought of riding down the driveway, and, after riding partially down the driveway sat there crying until I physically pushed her down the hill, and she had her right foot dragging the ground, shedding more cheap plastic off her $3 white sandals.

Joy and Xay were already down the street; Yani was somewhere else—the house?
I had been making mental calculations since the pregnancy how it would be to take our bike expeditions with one more small child. It frankly didn’t compute. I technically have enough equipment to carry Mani, Joy, and Esteban, but it won’t work out that way until Esteban can sit up. Until then, I carry him in his car seat in the bike buggy. There’s no room in there for anyone else after the car seat is situated.

So, I knew we’d have to spend the summer getting the babies (When I say the babies, I mean Mani and Joy) up to speed on their bikes.

That has been easier said than done.

Mani has these bouts of hysteria when she even thinks about going down our slightly inclined driveway. Then she puts on the brakes after every two pedals or so. . . it is an exercise in patience to go halfway around the block and back. Joy chugs along like the little engine that could. . . until she just stops, a frown on her face. Sometimes she’ll say, “My can’t, mommy,” or “My need help, Mommy,” but usually she doesn’t say anything, and I have to guess.

I had on my summer academic agenda to have Mani and Joy practice riding their bikes daily. Also easier said than done. I usually can’t go out with them, either because I’m nursing the baby, or, in the early days, I could barely walk because of the sciatic nerve injury, or we might be running somewhere else. If Yani and Xay take Mani and Joy out to ride their bikes, they come back right away, riding even less than the ½ block I take them.

So, today, when we had an uninterrupted stretch of time, I said, ‘come hell, or high water, we are going to ride our bikes somewhere today.’

The kids were concerned that MLK was under construction all summer, and wouldn’t be available today. I reminded them that school starts soon, and they should be done with construction by now. “Let’s just go and see, ” I said, “and if they’re still doing construction, we’ll go to Fray’s Park.”

So, anyway, with that kind of optimism, we started out on our adventure. Yani materialized just in time to help ride with one of the babies. She started out with Mani, who had gotten two houses down (if that) and started crying and resisting. I told Yani to ride with Joy, and I turned around to talk to Mani. “Here’s what we’re going to do, Mani,” I told her. “You and I are going to go back home, and you’re going to take a nap, or, you are going to stop crying and ride your bike.”

She chose the second option, and she started really riding. I watched as she rode past Yani and Joy, and up the little hill past Mel and Joy’s house without having to stop or get a push. I told her she was doing well. I also told her she could do it, I know you can do it, that kind of talk, and she got more confident, but just to make sure, she asked me, “Am I doing a good job, Mommy?” I replied in the affirmative, and we had a nice conversation.

I noticed that only one training wheel was in regular contact with the ground. Mani had complained about her bike leaning, but she was able to ride it fine. It reminded me of Yani. “When Yani’s bike was leaned like that, she kept falling over, so we took the training wheels off,” I told Mani.

I looked behind me and couldn’t see Yani and Joy at all. They slowly came behind the horizon, and Yani was riding, saying, “come on, Joy.” I, being well practiced in the snail’s pace one must maintain behind a small child on a bike, told Mani to stay right there, and I’d trade places with Yani. Xay, meanwhile, was circling at the stop sign at Coolidge and Haskell. We were using him as a guide.

So, I switched with Yani. Joy was slow, but determined. “Hi, Mommy,” she greeted me. “Hi, Joy-Joy.” I stopped pedaling, ready to help Joy get started if necessary. I watched her pedal slightly backwards, and then start herself forward. Her bike has no brakes, and was rattling unlike I’ve ever heard it before. She had a serious lean to the right, but both training wheels maintained contact with the street. Xay, Yani and Mani had pulled out into the street by the time Joy and I made it to the stop sign. I could just tell her to follow Yani. That was nice.

After turning the corner of Coolidge and Haskell, we diagonally crossed the street to the sidewalk on the other side of Haskell. This turned the corner to the street at the edge of the playground. We just had to ride down this street to the playground. Both little girls’ training wheels got caught on the uneven sidewalk. (I’m mentally trying to imagine taking them both out of training wheels at the same time. I’d been daydreaming about Joy riding that cute tiny bike without training wheels the whole time we’d been riding together).

Yani and I both carefully helped the girls over the bumps in the sidewalk, until I led us all back into the street. We saw Xay’s bike abandoned at the walking gate to the playground. I deposited the girls at this playground entrance, while I rode around to the front entrance. The buggy is too wide to get in at this side entrance. Esteban was really crying by this point; he started fussing every time I slowed down, so I tried to ride pretty fast to the other entrance to see if it would make a difference. He was still crying when I pulled up to a bench at the playground.

I was greeted by a cheerful chorus of “Hi, Mommy!” The “Mommy, look!’s ” seemed to be flying from three directions. Yani and Mani were together, climbing a tall structure. I looked to see Mani almost fall through the wide bars at the top; Yani, at her side, caught her and righted her feet. Joy was headed to a jungle gym with several slides and tunnels, while Xay ran from bars to sand to swings, and was headed over to Yani and Mani, when I told him to play with Joy. Xay came back with a report.

“There’s two things, mommy,” he began. “First, Joy had a stinky.”
That’s why she had run off on her own!
“The second thing is, that jungle gym is breaking.”
“What do you mean, breaking?” I asked.
“The floor thing is bent, and it is old.”

It appears that the MLK playground, once so new looking, in fact, it had looked brand-new he we moved in the neighborhood in ’99, is now looking very worn.
Yani declared the whole place a raggedy ghetto playground on our way out.

We didn’t leave before I’d tried out my old monkey bar/gymnastics skills. I scrambled to the top of a bar and the spun around it on my belly. Several times. I haven’t been able to teach my children this useful skill; nor can I even get them to figure it out for themselves. Xay complained that his shoes made him get sand in his eyes. I knew it was just an excuse to take off his shoes, but I didn’t protest when he took them off. He still kicked sand in his eyes. Yani tried, and pronounced her 12 year-old body too stiff to accomplish such a task. I must resign myself to the fact that they are not me, and move on. (Until next summer, when I try to teach them to do it again).

For the trip home, Xay decided to race us. He took off and was home in no time. Meanwhile, Yani rode with Mani and I rode with Joy. We went down the little back street that runs beside the back entrance to the playground. It is so remote, it is more like an alley than a street, and yet at least two cars passed us as we tried to get our little caravan going.

Yani and Mani were struggling to get on the Haskell street sidewalk when Joy and I made it to the corner. I decided it would be easier to stay on the street, especially since we had to cross it to get to the stretch of Coolidge that would take us home. Joy protested, trying to follow her sisters. I convinced her that my way was better, and shortly thereafter, Yani and Mani got off the sidewalk to cross the street. Phew!

On the final stretch home, Yani and Mani got way in front of us. Joy was having trouble with her bike. The rattling I’d heard on the way to the playground was getting louder, and she even fell over when I pushed her to get her started. I reached down and tightened her training wheel bolt with my hand. It had gotten loose enough to almost fall off. We were making steady progress home when Joy promptly stopped in the middle of the street. She had a frown on her face, but she wouldn’t talk about what was bugging her.

I found myself pushing her a little to get her going, just to stop a little further down the road. I started wondering who this child was. I was musing about how I was here alone on the road with the two Gray children that are the most mysterious to me.
Around this time, Xay turned up, looking for us. He had been home for quite some time, and wondered what was taking so long.

Then I looked up the road and saw Yani talking to Joy Rutherford. Mani and Joy call her Big Joy, despite the fact that she is barely bigger than Mani—and she is 9 years old. I said, “Look Joy, it’s Big Joy!”

Joy-Joy, (we call her Joy-Joy when Big Joy’s around), said, “Oh! Where Big Joy?” I pointed, and I have never seen this little child move so fast as when she saw Big Joy. She went as fast as her tiny legs could carry her on that brakeless bike. And we caught up to them pretty soon, Joy calling out, “Big Joy!” the whole time.

Big Joy graciously saw Joy-Joy home, while I rode ahead and congratulated Mani for making it all the way home.

Mel and Joy had joined us by now, and I surrendered all the children to the tree in the yard. The tree is a subject for another story. Esteban and I retired for a long awaited nursing session.