Category: Bicycles

Moving On

Wednesday, Jun 17, 2009 | Bicycles | 0 comments

I’m figuring out that the stroller isn’t coming home, won’t miraculously turn up on our porch one of these mornings; and we’re thinking about how to replace it. But I’m amazed how many vivid memories are linked to that stroller. Before moving on completely, here a few …

We bought it deep in wintertime when Apple-Apple was an infant; and almost immediately questioned the purchase. The stroller wasn’t designed for infants, and Chariot hadn’t yet invented its “infant sling” attachment; Apple-Apple screamed and Albus tried to climb out as I plunged through snowbanks on our first walk around the block. So it spent winter buried under a plastic tarp behind our house in Guelph and I used a heavy Graco double-stroller instead; I used to drive to the mall and wander around, feed them french fries at the food court, just to get out of the house. That June we moved to Waterloo; even after Apple-Apple was big enough to sit up, I rarely used the Chariot. The side-by-side seating of a two toddlers resulted in … violence. Albus was a biter, and Apple-Apple fought back.
One of the first times I hooked that stroller to my bicycle, Kevin was far away, travelling for work (as he was required to do regularly, during our early years as parents), and I set out alone after supper, hoping to pass the time and get some exercise and entertain my two little ones … who were jolly right up until they weren’t. I turned around on the trail, the stroller crowded with howling babies. We were about two kilometres from home and there were no easy solutions. So I carried the littlest, who’d been bitten and didn’t want to be carried, whilst pulling bicycle and howling two-year-old-in-stroller combination All The Way Home. It was summer, hot, and felt epic in terms of sheer physical and emotional will. If that doesn’t teach you forbearance, nothing will. Didn’t use the stroller again till the following spring, when Albus was nearly three. This was when life got easier, and the two children did not require utter and constant vigilance. The stroller really came into its own, became a huge part of our daily lives and journies.
When I was just a few weeks pregnant with Fooey, just before Christmas, we set out for the library in the midst of a blizzard. Why? No longer remember, but suspect I enjoy setting such challenges for myself; and this one turned out to be greater than anticipated. Heaving, pushing, sweating, tossing the stroller over giant snow banks, snow falling thickly, cars getting stuck in the middle of the road. It truly seemed we might never arrive, yet there was no way we could turn back, my two little ones safely tucked inside with the cover down. The warmth of that library, when we stumbled into it, at last. But we thrived on such adventures. Often, we’d make them up for ourselves: Arctic explorers crossing frozen seas, on the look-out for polar bears; or desert explorers; or pioneers crossing mountainous terrain. The ordinary was made extraordinary.
That spring I was big and pregnant with Fooey, Apple-Apple was two and Albus was almost-four, and I transported them everywhere in the bike stroller, peddling my impressive bulk around the city till about a month before giving birth, when I could no longer reach the handlebars. Albus started school in the fall, and from that moment onward we gave the stroller a twice-daily workout, in fair weather and foul, with baby in sling. Kids grew. The stroller’s front wheel could be used to nudge a tricycle forward, or a bike with training wheels. With the two older ones on their own bicycles, the stroller could be pulled behind loaded with a picnic lunch and swim clothes. Last summer I added a top-rack for carrying extras, and ran after the older ones, baby CJ in a borrowed infant sling attachment, big sister Fooey lovingly beside him. I’d been anticipating new bicycling adventures this summer, with CJ now old enough to be pulled behind my bicycle.
And we’ll still get to do that; just not in our well-worn, much-loved, raggedy old Chariot. Life goes on. Maybe this is a lesson in material attachment. Whatever. I’ve got the memories.

The Upside to Construction

Sunday, Jun 14, 2009 | Bicycles, Play | 0 comments

Weekends the noise stops, and the digging, and the beep-beep-beeping, and the dust settles, and all is quiet at our little corner of urbanity. Time to hang the clothes on the line. Time to get out the wheeled devices. Time to fly.

This is the Only Moment

Saturday, Mar 28, 2009 | Bicycles, Big Thoughts, Local Food | 5 comments


Can you guess what Albus is eating? Yes, it’s what’s marked on the freezer bag: frozen red peppers. He and Apple-Apple ate half the bag after supper last night. Local Red Pepper Popsicles.
Kevin has the flu. He’s utterly out of commission, and I’m worried about him. I’ve been trying to remember when life got so hard. It feels like we’ve been running a non-stop marathon, but where was the start line? Months ago, years ago. Last night when Fooey was having a nightmare, and it was 10pm and I’d been on my feet and working all day and just wanted to fall into bed myself, I held her and these words came into my head: “This is the only moment. This one here.” It gave me incredible peace and strength to think those words. I felt unexpectedly capable: of being present, and of giving what needed to be given, right then.
CJ and I came upon a car/pedestrian accident yesterday. We’d been playing in our front yard, enjoying the sunshine, when I noticed a disturbance at the intersection very near our house, so we walked down to see what was happening. It had just happened, though three people had already gone to the woman, and were comforting her. There was nothing I could do; someone in a car had already called 911. It shook me. Life’s randomness, unpredictability, sadness. We cannot protect ourselves from it.
But my nature is optimistic, hopeful. I believe that attitude matters, that how I react to situations matters, that I have it in me to be … calm, present, patient, whole. That’s why I wanted to hang laundry today. It seemed medicinal. Being outside is medicinal. Sunshine is. This is the only moment.

Nearly Spring

Friday, Mar 6, 2009 | Bicycles, Spring | 0 comments

Warmth. No jacket.
Library. Wind.
“I’m afraid of those big trucks, Mommy.” Bicycle with training wheels.
Stroller wheel corroded off mid-sidewalk push.
Cucumber sandwiches for lunch.
Afternoon sun.
Spaghetti pie planned for supper.
Time to wake the baby. (Oh. Can I still call him a baby when he’s nearly one year old?).

Almost a year spun by since we first met him.
Almost a year since the other children made up the song called “CJ brought spring.”

Saturdayness

Saturday, Feb 14, 2009 | Bicycles, Local Food | 2 comments

Update on the intention to make cupboard-items from scratch, such as: crackers. Made them for book club and they were a) labour intensive, b) set off our smoke alarm at 10pm, and, most egregiously, c) tasted ordinary. Homemade food generally tastes superior, so much so that preparing and eating homemade meals from scratch essentially ruin the ability to eat and enjoy a prepackaged, grocery store frozen, or fast food meal ever again. Sadly, these crackers inspired one to reach for a box of factory-fresh.

Will I try again? The other cracker issue was that every recipe I read made use of a vastly different method; and none sounded easy. Strike one on the pantry plan.

Fooey has been riding her bicycle everywhere, despite frigid temperatures. We had a thaw that cleared the sidewalks. I’ve perfected the technique of pulling the bicycle over the bumps while pushing the stroller. This reminded me fondly of the days when Fooey was the baby in the stroller, and I’d use it to push Apple-Apple on her tricycle, and could still pull Albus’s bicycle behind.

Okay, time to start cooking for tonight’s Valentine’s potluck at a friend’s house: potato, sauerkraut, and sausage bake. All local. May throw in some yams, too. The house is temporarily peaceful, as Kevin has taken the three larger children out on their bicycles, and CJ is napping. Must get scrubbing and paring whilst the quiet holds.