Farewell, Stroller

We donated our last stroller, two tricycles and Ironflower's pink princess bike yesterday. For the first time in almost 9 years, I don't own a stroller.

This does not bring me the same joy as not having to buy diapers anymore did.

It's not even as much of a relief as donating the baby gate was.

But my youngest, not only is he fully capable of walking everywhere, he gets upset if someone doesn't hold his hand in a parking lot or crossing the street. I don't even need a stroller to keep him contained anymore.

This was his response when I complained that he hadn't 

stayed still long enough for a picture with his siblings. 

I had a triple stroller at one point, you know. We only used it for about a year, probably not more than a couple dozen times (but since we bought it off of Craiglist and sold it for the same amount to another family having 3 kids in 4 years, I feel it was a total win). 

And now I realize that I have no pictures of the triple stroller. 

In fact, I have few pictures of the older two in their double stroller, even. And none online. 

The only stroller that I can find pictures of is the one we donated yesterday.

That would be Ironflower in front of the fountain at Lincoln Center.

Hugmonkey, not thrilled with the 4th of July Parade.

I realize that this is not a stroller. But I can't find ANY pictures of Lovebug in a stroller. 

I've been living stroller-free for a while now, actually. I think the last time we brought the stroller anywhere was Boo at the Bronx Zoo last October. And that was more because we were going to be there during Hugmonkey's nap time.  But now that Hugmonkey refuses to nap unless he's in the car, we really don't need one anymore. 

Han Solo. 

Farewell, stroller. 

So Freaking Naive

On one of our earliest trips to the local pool (which is really a small lake, but whatever) this year, a girl slipped off the high dive. She only broke her arm when she hit the freaking wall, thank goodness, but that's enough. My children assured me that they had no interest in going off any of the diving boards, let alone the high one. I sighed with relief.

I am so freaking naive.

Ironflower started asking when she found out some of her friends were going off the diving boards. I managed to put her off until they started going off the diving boards in her swim lessons. On her first trip up to the high dive platform, though, she changed her mind and came back down. I again sighed with relief, because the low and medium diving boards don't freak me out that much.

As long as I am standing there watching. I just feel like the lifeguards don't watch the kids as closely as they should. And their standards are low - there is no deep water test needed for kids to go off the diving boards or swim in the deep water.

It took Ironflower about 3 hours to change her mind about the high dive. I took the kids over to the diving boards because I figured practicing on the low and medium couldn't hurt. Lovebug conquered his diving board fear and happily jumped off the low and medium boards.

And then Ironflower wanted to try the high dive again. I mentioned the girl breaking her arm, right? And that the dive is high? And that even though Ironflower is a pretty good swimmer, she is only 7? And I didn't start doing the high dive until I was like 10? And that I'm paranoid and overprotective about certain things? Okay. 

Some parents, when confronted with the kind of panic I was feeling, might tell their kid no. But I knew intellectually that my panic was ridiculous, even if it didn't feel ridiculous. So I let her go. 

Not only did she not break anything, she absolutely loved it. She's now done it so many times, Lovebug is walking up there with her. He hasn't jumped yet, but I'm no longer naive. I know it's only a matter of time before I have to let him go too. 

Hugmonkey will probably do it when he's 5, because he hates being left behind. 

Until this high dive thing, I was always so thrilled when my kids did things on their own. I was proud (oh, okay, and a teeny bit sad) when they ran into preschool and then kindergarten without a backward glance. I've loved watching (or in Hugmonkey's case, begging) them develop each independent skill. 

But now I realize that the independent skills are only going to get scarier (for me, anyway). Sleep overs. Walking home from school. Using the stove. Driving. 

I think I need a Valium.