One late afternoon, I found myself deep in concentration at my desk. Suddenly, my eldest son, Max, burst through the garden doors, red-cheeked and beaming. His helmet sat askew on his head. “Mom!” he called out, but my attention was still on the computer screen. “Mom!” he insisted again, “I can ride a bike!” Now, he had my full focus.
For his fifth birthday, we had gifted him a bright, new bike, a size up due to his height. The salesperson had assured us it was a good choice—plenty of room for growth. However, this turned out to be a misjudgment. Max was cautious by nature, and when we attempted to ride, he struggled with balance, clinging to the training wheels as I desperately tried to keep him upright. After a few attempts, our enthusiasm waned. The rainy autumn transitioned into an even rainier winter, and the bike was left to collect dust while life continued to change.
With the arrival of twins, I found myself overwhelmed, often too busy to even dress myself, let alone teach Max how to ride. He began to explore other outdoor activities while I was preoccupied. As children grow, there’s an ongoing process of letting them become independent. Sometimes this shift occurs gradually, as birthdays pass; other times, it’s hastened by life events. Two newborns can certainly create a gap between a mother and her older child. I found myself less aware of his daily experiences, and the stories he shared at bedtime felt foreign and rough in my hands.
That summer, Max started making new friends, which isn’t always easy for him. Our home is in a development adjacent to a parking lot, and a path from our garden leads to neighboring backyards, where several boys his age lived. They began to call him out to play, and though we hesitated initially, we eventually agreed. At almost six, we decided he was old enough to venture down the path alone. The other parents seemed confident about it, and soon, this group of kids became a regular sight.
Max would return home from school, eager to join his friends. They played outside whenever the weather allowed, racing up and down the sidewalks and sharing their bikes. The assortment of cycles included various sizes, some with training wheels, and others designed to help children learn balance without pedals. These balance bikes encourage kids to develop their own stability—a perfect metaphor for parenting, wouldn’t you agree? We can either support them as they learn to balance on their own or hover close by, providing a false sense of security.
Reflecting on my past, I remember the way I used to urge Max to walk when he was just 13 months old, despite his clear reluctance. I would pull him along, bearing his weight as he protested. Those moments were for my benefit, not his, as I anxiously rushed through his milestones. As my first child, I was eager for him to achieve each step.
Of course, he eventually took his first steps, and I was there to witness it. I celebrated with him when he used the potty for the first time and buttoned his first shirt. However, the joy in his eyes when he burst through the garden doors recently—inviting me to see his newfound biking skills—was different. It was a reflection of what he had achieved independently, on his own timeline, and without my direct involvement.
What I felt I lost that day was softened by the pure joy he expressed in showing me his accomplishment. This is the essence of parenting: understanding that while we celebrate every milestone together, those moments when they achieve something alone can be even more rewarding.
For more insights on parenting and milestones, be sure to check out our post on the home insemination kit, as well as this excellent resource on treating infertility from ACOG.
In summary, as children grow, the process of letting go is essential. Celebrating their independence and achievements, even when we aren’t directly involved, is part of the beauty of parenting.