{"id":721,"date":"2008-10-19T21:32:00","date_gmt":"2008-10-20T01:32:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/sunday-october-19-2008\/"},"modified":"2008-10-19T21:32:00","modified_gmt":"2008-10-20T01:32:00","slug":"sunday-october-19-2008","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/sunday-october-19-2008\/","title":{"rendered":"Sunday October 19, 2008"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"October<\/font><\/a> <\/font><\/span>Learning to ride bike is one of my most vivid childhood memories.  I was five when Mom and Dad first bought me a bike and I had a chance to try two wheels instead of three.  It was a blue and yellow Huffy boys bike and it was almost too big for me.  No training wheels either.  <\/font><\/p>\n

\"October<\/font><\/a> <\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

Dad took me outside on our sandy lane and we tried going in and out with me dropping vertically more often then moving horizontally.  Falling hurt.  I was not exactly a mild child and I lost patience with the process quickly.  One more fall was one fall too many.  I hurled my bike to the ground as hard as I could.  “I will never<\/strong> ride this bike again,” I roared and stomped off towards the house.  As soon as the words were out of my mouth I distinctly remember expecting to hear the typical, “Michelle, ‘net su shveitzu’ (don’t talk like that).”  Instead, Dad didn’t say a word.  Just calmly picked up the bike and parked it while I went inside and told Mom, “I hate my bike<\/font>.”<\/font><\/p>\n

\"October<\/font><\/a> <\/font><\/span>\"October<\/font><\/a> <\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

I don’t remember how long it took me to learn.  Eventually I was riding solo although the bike was still too big.  I had to stand on a five gallon bucket to the left of the bike and make sure the right pedal was up to get started before I could make a loop of the yard and back in the lane.  <\/font>\"October<\/font><\/a> <\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

Adam has been riding fairly well with his training wheels.  His cousin, Rochelle, learned how to ride without the training wheels on a teeny tiny bike she calls “my very tippy bike” and after she learned, she offered that Adam could borrow it.  I was amazed how quickly he caught on.  Tuesday night we went to the park to give him a bigger area to ride then the basement afforded since our yard is all one big slope.  He was thrilled and basically learned to ride twenty feet or so just in that one evening.  <\/font><\/p>\n

\"October<\/font><\/a> <\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

The next day my mom surprised us and showed up to help me sew for a day (am I a lucky girl or what?) and over lunch time she took Adam outside and practiced in the little bit of flat area we have right behind the house.  In less then fifteen minutes, Adam was travelling the length of the house (44 feet).  How we exclaimed and praised his progress.  He fell some and once he stormed to mom, “My bike hates me<\/font>.”  <\/font><\/p>\n

\"October<\/font><\/a> <\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

That night we were reading his Bible story and having prayer together at bedtime.  When it was Adam’s turn he started in with the usual, “Dear God, please help us feel better in the morning” (I do wonder sometimes how long I will have to not be pregnant until he skips this phrase<\/font>).  “And thank you that I could ride my bike further then the length of the house on a sunny day….”<\/font><\/p>\n

\"October<\/a> <\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Learning to ride bike is one of my most vivid childhood memories.  I was five when Mom and Dad first bought me a bike and I had a chance to try… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-721","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p39ynQ-bD","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/721","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=721"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/721\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=721"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=721"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=721"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}