Three is a Magic Number

Today marks the end of our third week commuting by bike. It's amazing how quickly and easily we have fallen into the bike pattern-- leaving home a bit earlier each morning than when we were driving the car and always first checking the weather reports to see if we'll need the rain tent or ear coverings under our helmets. Last night, it stormed and we had forgotten to put the bakfiets under its tarp. I panicked about midnight but didn't rush out to cover it up. I know it is incredibly sturdy and could handle the rainstorm (I've ridden it in the rain before), but I still felt a bit guilty leaving it out unprotected. I think I finally understand those fellows who love their sport cars so much they spend hours waxing them and take endless pictures of themselves standing in front of them, arms crossed over puffed-up chests, proud smirks crossing their faces.

It was a gray morning when we headed out. I was cheered, however, by the bright red of our rain tent and the warmer temperature, wearing a fleece instead of a parka. Riding along, I greeted the various school crossing guards we meet along our way (four), wishing them each a good weekend, and receiving good wishes in return. At one point, I spotted a fellow walking along the sidewalk with a bright pink toddler push bike swung over his shoulder-- the pinkness leaping out against the dank and drear. He spotted me and we did a quick, "Hey, cool bike" interchange that made me smile. The next block, one filled with cars parked one after the other, I enjoyed seeing our funny bakfiets and rider shadow dance up against the car sides as the sun hit us just right.

Each time I ride our bakfiets, especially when I think of how I would have likely driven in the past, I feel-- well, virtuous. It's the same feeling I get when I use the library instead of buying new books or when I bring along our reusable water bottles and shopping bags. It just feels good.

Biking & Scootering & Walking-- Oh, My!

Biking these past days has not been easy. People are fascinated by the length of the bakfiets and always ask how hard it is to ride. "Not at all," I've confidently answered, "It's such an amazingly well-made bike-- it's actually quite easy and fun." I then go on to talk about P's 1968 three-speeder and how when he switches over to the baks, how smooth and easy he finds it as well. However, the wind has been kicking up quite a bit these past two days and suddenly 'easy' wasn't so easy. Coming home from school yesterday, pedaling into the wind, I definitely felt the resistance and was pushing hard and moving slowly. It didn't help that I hadn't covered the box that morning and there is tons of grit in the street, left over from lots of snow. Early in the commute home, C got some sand in his eye which prompted much unhappiness for the rest of the trip. He hunched down low in the box, complaining that it really wasn't that much fun-- I guess the honeymoon period is over.

Today, we pulled out the red weather tent and the boys were happily shielded from the wind and street dirt swirling around my head. I prepared myself for some hard leg pumping and pushed on our way. We were confronted with a new issue today-- how we deal with Tuesday's pick-up of F. Normally, P does pick-up and drop-off of our third fellow, but on Tuesdays and Thursdays, P has an inconveniently-timed class from 4:00-5:30PM and I need to rush over to get F before his school closes at 5PM. In the past, we were driving so I would rally S and C and we would drive over to F's school, unstrap from car seats, all climb out, get F, and then strap three boys back into car seats. Whew. Today, however, sans car, we needed to figure out how to pull this off.

One ginarmous obstacle in the pick-up of F is a hill, a very large hill, a hill that I struggled all last year to push a jog stroller up, and in no way could possibly think of conquering it by bakfiets. I thought of the practicality of riding until it got too steep and then pushing it the rest of the way, but with the weather tent, three boys in the box would be pretty squishy, and honestly, I wasn't even sure how well I could get up the hill walking and pushing. I felt committed to biking to the twins' and my school and figured that if we left early enough, we could ride the bakfiets home and then decide how to get F from there. When we reached home, the sun was shining, and I asked the boys how we should go get F-- I said we could walk, scooter, or go by car. I was feeling pretty tired, but when they voted to release their scooters from their long winter naps in the basement, I embraced the chance to remain carfree for the day and happily set off with a third scooter thrown over my shoulder and F's bike helmet in my hand. It turned out to be a wonderful end to the day. All three guys got solid outside time, soaking in some much-needed vitamin D, pumping their legs, and getting their ya-yas out. And as I walked behind them, I enjoyed the scene of these three helmet-clad heads and jeans-clad legs zipping along the sidewalk with joy.

Darn You, Rocket!

I can deal with Leo, June, Quincy, and Annie. My boys love them, and when it comes to choosing videos, I am supportive of their Little Einsteins' choice.  It has exposed them to some great artists and composers, and the boys make the connection between what they see and hear while watching this cartoon, and seeing prints of Keith Haring or Van Gogh out and about in the world and recognizing the classical music masterpieces the Little Einsteins lift phrases from and add their own lyrics.  P is less enthused by this kid's show since the fellas think these are actually the lyrics that 'belong' with Beethoven's Fifth or the Carmen Suite, etc.

Really-- for the most part, I guess you could call me a fan of the show.  That was until this morning.  I took the bakfiets on an ambitious mission, riding all three boys to a playground in the next town over.  I actually didn't realize how ambitious it was until I was halfway there.  In the past, we had always driven there by car, and I never realized just how many long, gradual uphills there were on the way.   Even in first gear, I was pumping as hard as I could, my thighs screaming at me.   I was breathing heavily, starting to pant, when a three-year-old voice called out from the front box, "We need more power!" 

And because I was sweating and panting and wondering just why the heck we didn't just go to the local playground and how I was actually going to get us to our destination, I didn't appreciate F's mimicking of Leo's catch phrase from the show.  We did need more power. But it was just me, our bakfiets, and my nearly-40-year-old-out-of-shape legs.  

We did eventually make it to the playground and I gotta say-- the return trip home was sweet, cruising down all those long, gradual downhills, wind in our faces.

Helmet Hair

Since I have been writing a few posts about our new love, the bakfiets, a world of bicycle blogs has opened up to me. I am especially liking the ones that talk specifically about biking with kids and ones focused on stylish women biking. I am not one much for fashion. I am a pretty utilitarian dresser, and the older I get, the less I seem to care. I have a thing for chunky shoes, I honestly love fleece, and I vowed never to work a job that required me to wear stockings. Tights I can deal with; stockings never. It has been helpful that I've spent much of my professional life working in schools so there's never been the call for power suits and heels.

When I committed to becoming a bike commuter, I thought about the clothes thing for a moment. Would I be able to ride in my work garb? I figured the only adjustment I might really have to make would possibly be my shoes and I thought I could easily throw on my Puma sneaks, with a work pair in the box. These certain blogs, like this one, this one, this one, and this one, show women who are far better dressers than I am riding their bikes so it has given me confidence that I could pedal in most anything I owned. Plus, once we got the baks, we saw that it's built like a cruiser--I sit up straight, no hunching over, and there's no bar in the way between my legs so there's no fear about not being able to swing a skirt-clad thigh and knee across. I haven't felt the need to wear the Pumas; my regular boots and a pair of flats have worked just fine.

Being honest here--I did, however, give thought to the hair in a bike helmet dilemma. I didn't want to spend my work days with bad hair, flattened or sticking out thanks to the strapping on the hard casing each morning. A year ago I chopped off my ponytail and my hair has become increasingly shorter with each trip to the hair salon. So last week when I went in for my appointment, I made a decision with the bike helmet in mind: I needed a fully short haircut. So now my hair is cut up over my ears, although I do have a longer section swept over to the right, an asymmetrical style that I hope is less Flock of Seagulls and more sassy and cute. It's been cold enough in the mornings these past two bike commuting weeks that when I pull up to the bike rack at school, my head isn't totally covered with sweat. I've felt pretty confident pulling off my helmet, running a hand through my hair, and starting the work day.

And to honor our new biking commitment, I decided to treat myself to a brand new helmet. I've been riding around with my plain, black LLBean one (complete with black electrical tape) that is older than my marriage. The new one hasn't come yet and I will be sure to post pictures when it does arrive but it is definitely sassy and cute.

Baile!

It was a dark and stormy day at the office. OK, not really, but things have been particularly stressful lately. Happily (although I didn't know it at the time), I needed to leave work a bit early today to get C to his violin lesson. P has taken on the heroic job of being the parent-in-charge of music and those of you who know anything about the Suzuki method understand that this is no simple task-- far more than shuttling kids to lessons and remembering their instruments along the way. However, my wonderful husband went on an overnight adventure with our youngest to the city of his birth (P's not F's) so today, I was in charge of getting C to his one formal after-school activity. S often stays at school with me on C's lesson days (S's lesson is on the weekend), and he was none too happy to get dragged along to his brother's lesson, but such is life when you are not an only child.

I was rushing to get a letter finished, while acutely aware of the time, trying to estimate how long it would take to bike to the music school. Of course, actually getting my fellows out of school took far longer than I ever plan for, and I was sweating profusely before I ever got to pedaling just from the shepherding and coat and helmet wrestling. My teeth were clenched and I was silently cursing life when I pushed off from the ground, hopped on the seat, and pumped my legs. However, less than a block down the road, I suddenly felt different. The boys and I began an easy conversation (such a bonus with this front box!) and I could feel the sun on my face. Work fell behind me as I concentrated on navigating the streets and sometimes-less-than-patient drivers. Not sure of the time, I pumped my legs harder, feeling my thighs twinge and my breath quicken, and before I knew it--we pulled up to our destination. Scrambling off/out of the bakfiets, we made our way to C's appointed lesson room.

Outside the room, waiting for another student to finish, I got to watch my fellows in action, happily chatting away with a fifth grader from their school. Totally undaunted by his 'advanced' age and size, it reminded me again of what a cool school community they belong to where they would actually know a fifth grader, and he would be kind enough to respond to their many questions with patience and good humor. Then at the lesson, I was amazed how receptive C was to each suggestion the teacher made, just how hard the process of learning this instrument is, how he needs to stretch and hold his fingers in new and ever-more difficult ways. This little fellow, who often struggles when things don't go exactly right, was making mistakes and trying again, over and over with little fuss, and seemingly enjoying the challenge. S, first occupied with a word search, asked me to play a few rounds of tic-tac-toe which we did, silently communicating, trying not to distract C from his teacher and task.

We later bakfieted home through the rush hour traffic, our box heavy with our school bags, a violin, and some newly-bought groceries. Waiting at our apartment door was a lovely surprise: six whoopie pies, left by two friends who saw my posting of this on my Fb profile today. Once eating dinner, we put on our newest CD-love, and suddenly none of us could stay at the table and up we jumped, twirling, clapping, shaking with abandon. We sang out the Spanish words we recognized: playa, gallina, luna, pollito, lapiz, cante, cante, baile, baile. And that is just what we did--Baile!

And as I listen to Mi Luna over and over as I type, I think what a bike ride, an unexpected act of kindness, good music, and some enthusiastic living room dancing with two wonderful-six-year-olds can do for your soul.

Keeping the Magic Alive

When C and S were four, we visited a very close friend from Peace Corps who lives in Sarasota, Florida. Said friend is from a wonderfully fun Irish American clan, and we enjoyed a few of her extended family's St. Patrick Day's gatherings over the years. Recently, while P and I were lamenting the fact that there would be no spring vacation for us and particularly no spring vacation down in Sarasota with L, the boys were remembering the morning they woke up at Auntie L's home on St. Patrick's Day and her milk had turned green. Imagine! Auntie L explained that the leprechauns must have snuck in and done such a deed-- the same leprechauns that must have visited my home as a kid since I remember that March 17th green milk as well. Yup, from my childhood I remember the pale green milk in our silver metal milk pitcher (my mom hated the plastic milk jugs on the table), Shamrock Shakes from McDonald's, and--oh yes, the ads for Cookie O'Puss, Carvel's lame attempt to make yet another seasonal ice cream cake out of the same darn whale mold, but clearly I digress...

So yesterday, while shopping for groceries, P decided to try to keep the magic alive. There was only one catch-- a very observant six-year-old was shopping with him.

C: Hey, what's this? [pointing to a bottle of green food coloring]
Dad: I don't know. It must have been in the cart already when we got it.
C: But why is on top of the other items?
Dad [knowing he's doomed by the logic, replies lamely]: Well, maybe it just fell in.

*********
Skip to this morning

3 yr old: The milk is gween! The milk is gween!

C [initially excited, but quickly puzzling aloud]: Maybe the leprechauns used the green dye that we bought yesterday to color the milk. Huh. Well, yes, because you see, Santa is real because we get presents. And the Easter Bunny is real because we get baskets. So the leprechauns must also be real because the milk is green.

So this morning, we almost lost Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the leprechauns in one fell swoop. But it seemed clear to us, C wanted to keep certain childhood magic alive for himself just as much as his parents do.

Car-Free Weekend

We are realistic that we cannot ditch our car completely. There's no way we could ride a bike to our local-ish Trader Joe's nor could ride to visit good friends in a neighborhood on the other side of the city. We've lived with just one car since we became car owners, and in the past year or so since moving to New Haven, it has been a bit of a juggling act with one car-- but we've done it. I have to give a shout-out to friends who were generous in giving rides when necessary.

As the boys grow older, they have some commitments of their own so it isn't just about my schedule or P's schedule but five family members' schedules. These schedules sometimes conflict and we need to be in different places at the same time. Some of these places are not within walking distance nor is there a solid public transportation option here. We made a conscious choice to rent in this neighborhood so that P could walk to grad school, but if we were to try and buy a house-- it is most likely that we would need to look elsewhere, and also most likely we would end further away from the school where I work and S and C attend. However, long ago we committed to remaining a one-car family for as long as possible. And now likewise with our brand-new cargo bike, we have a new mantra: If we can get there by bike, we are going to ride.

This weekend, P and I took on a silent challenge. We never really said it aloud but as we mapped out our days, we decided to leave the car parked and go strictly by bike (hence another week of school lunches without those Trader Joe granola bars the boys have become crazy about).

Here is what we did by bike:
Saturday

• C's and S's music lessons-- bakfiets, round trip 3.2 miles
• F at a birthday party in the next town over-- bakfiets, round trip 5. 2 miles
• Grocery store run-- bakfiets, round trip 5.2 miles
• Dinner take-out pickup-- bakfiets, round trip 2 miles

Sunday

• P off to work (church)-- on his inherited 1968 English Rudge, one way 1.9 miles
• S and boys to St. Paddy's Day Brunch-- bakfiets, one way 1.1 miles
• Tooling around downtown New Haven on both bikes, checking out the parade plus the trip home-- at least 3 miles

All-in-all, you can see we never ventured particularly far, but without the baks, a few of those trips would have been car trips. P and I are normally up for walking, but that doesn't work with six-year-old (x2) and three-year-old legs and temperaments. The bikes were particularly handy when it came to wandering downtown for the St. Paddy's Day Parade. We could scoot through streets that had been blocked off to cars, didn't encounter any of the parking hassles, and we were able to make quick get-aways when some of the parade scenes got a bit, uh, hairy for our taste.

Another huge advantage to now owning a bakfiets-- a whole world of cargo bike blogs have been opened to us! Many thanks to the new folks stopping by my blog and commenting, including MamaVee, DrMerton, and Henry in Amsterdam.

OK, I know I have been gushing, but what can I say-- I am in love. And in the words of the immortal Freddie Mercury, "I want to ride my bicycle..."