Genetic Recombination is a naturally occurring process of meiosis where two DNA molecules, during their exchange of information, produce new cells with unique genetic material not present in either of the original parent cells. By their design, cells are created in such a way that no two are ever completely identical but the majority of the time the cross over process often generates trailing markers found in the parent DNA. Through the process of genetic recombination, the rarer phenomenon of developing completely unique traits within the cells occurs. Laboratory studies of this process have given way to the greatest understanding of the genetic mechanism allowing scientists to map chromosomes and identify links, anomalies, and even aid in the process of genetic manipulation. Recombination ensures we are constantly changing, evolving, and some might argue, improving as unique people.
When the boy was just two and a half years old, the mother determined it was time for him to ride a bike. Not based upon any athletic inclination or even quasi-interest expressed by the boy, but simply due to the fact that the mother felt he should be ahead of other children his own age. In altogether stereotypical fashion the mother and father had high expectations for their first-born child.
The mother and father are researchers by their nature, and thus set out to find just the right bike for the young boy. It was then that the mother discovered the little red balance bike. An invention free of pedals for very young riders. The mother was quite sure this little wonder, brought to the world by the Strider Corporation, was a stroke of engineering genius and wished the 80’s had been more forward thinking in this regard, when she learned to ride a bike. Let’s be honest though, of all the things the 80’s may or may not have to apologize for, children’s bicycles are very low on the list.
The theory, postulated by the balance bike company, is that the act of pedaling takes only a few moments to comprehend and that the real skill children need to learn is the ability to balance. Their philosophy was that by eliminating pedals of any kind, the child could focus on the essential balance skill and thus be able to go from the balance bike directly to the traditional pedal bike without having to utilize the crutch of training wheels.
The mother loved everything about the science behind this approach and felt that with this kind of logic on their side, success was sure to be at hand, and anything less would strike her with utter consternation.
Unfortunately the boy did not take to the little red bike quite as quickly as the mother had hoped. In part she purchased it in the winter, not ideal bike riding conditions, and coupled with a general lack of interest by the boy no real progress was made, and so the little red balance bike and all its promise simply sat in the garage. Once they moved into their new house the following year, there was ample space to practice riding the little red bike, and so the mother dusted it off, and after a few months found the boy did learn how to balance with encouraging ease.
When the boy turned four, a few months later, the mother of course felt the transition to the standard bike was imminent and purchased the big green pedal bike for his birthday. What the mother had forgotten to take into consideration was, while pedaling might not be a difficult skill to grasp intellectually, there was certainly a necessary level of leg strength to achieve it with success. The reality was the boy had never ridden on a tricycle when they lived in the townhouse, simply due to lack of ideal space, and thus his ability to pedal in any form was significantly impaired.
The mother’s aspirations of having a fully-accomplished-preschool-aged bike rider were not coming to fruition, as the boy’s fear of falling off the big green pedal bike seemed to override all the amazing balancing skills the boy had previously perfected. The boy in his timidity simply could not pedal fast enough to stay upright. Sadly the boy was now too tall to continue using his little red balance bike, and so much to the parents chagrin, the defeatist training wheels were placed onto his new green birthday bike. The mother assured the father it would be just for a short time until the boy could build up the necessary leg strength and then they would make the switch to riding his big green pedal bike…training-wheel free.
The mother was admittedly disappointed at the fact that logically, she had set the boy up with all the necessary tools for success, and yet in spite of that he still seemed to struggle to excel at this milestone….she was struck with consternation.
When the mother asked her own parents to remember when she had learned to ride her bike, as she honestly could not recall the details, her parents simply laughed and informed the mother that the story was fairly anticlimactic. With her trademark spirit of resolve and an unnatural level of confidence, the mother simply informed her parents one day she was not only ready to ride a bike but was quite certain it was something at which she would excel. The mother simply got onto her bike, and with a little push from her father took to riding it immediately. (The mother realized in this moment of reflection that the ease at which she personally achieved milestones might in fact be impairing her expectations for the boy, and this gave the mother pause.)
The mother suddenly feared her resolve and confidence might be more unique traits verses learned behaviors she could force upon the boy, and struggled to consider how she might navigate this truth in the face of her evident consternation.
Nearly a year after the big green pedal bike entered the picture, over Memorial Day weekend, the now five year old boy, made the proclamation, “Today, I am ready to ride my bike without any training wheels.” The mother and father exchanged a glance over the children’s heads as if to say, “is this really going to happen?” With the appropriate situational sense of encouragement and support the mother clapped and cheerily replied, “lets do it…lets make this happen!” and on that bright Sunday morning, the family made their way out into the driveway.
The blonde, quickly sensing the focus was going to be placed upon the boy, chimmed in with, “mom, can I show you how good I can ride my pedal bike?” “Of course dear,” the mother replied. The blonde proceeded to hop onto her pink Radio Flyer tricycle and with unmatched zeal, peddled feverishly. Crafted mostly out of plastic with a splash of metal the Radio Flyer had a tremendously grating squealing sound with each pedal rotation and yet the mother smiled and responded with “wonderful honey, just wonderful. Keep up the good work.” (The mother makes a mental note to find WD 40 in the garage and address the squeaky wheel matter at a later date.)
Just then the brunette screams from the garage, “pink!!!” Quickly, the mother whips her head around from her observation of the blonde, towards the direction of the garage to try and make out just exactly what the brunette has found herself so troubled by. (The mother makes a mental note to address the fact that as of late the brunette is inappropriately suffering from Synethesia, a condition where colors are associated with persons, places or things, and in the brunettes case emotions. Often shouting yellow when she doesn’t get her way, orange when asked her opinion and now seemingly pink when angered by a toy that appears to be stuck.)
The mother finds the brunette tugging at a little car that seems to have become high centered on a Razor scooter. As the mother walks towards the garage, she sighs at the disorganization before her. In spite of repeated attempts to maintain order in her garage, the bikes, cars, scooters, and the like seem to be multiplying. They appear to be posses some sort of primordial ooze affect slugging their way across the cold cement floor in a determined migration towards the van. (The mother makes a mental note to consider spray painting parking lines on the garage floor in an attempt to teach the children the wonderment that is order, and a world free from clutter, with the added bonus of educating them early on the concept of perpendicular parking.)
The blonde, making her way in a nonsensical pattern along the driveway, with what can only be described as a literal and figurative squeaky wheel, continues to vie for the mother’s attention, meanwhile the brunette, now happily coasting at daredevil levels of speed down the driveway, seems oblivious to the families true intention for even being outside at all.
In that moment, of sisterly attention seeking and obvious egocentricism, the boy and the father make their way to the road. While the mother and the baby take their place on the sidewalk attempting to focus on this milestone moment. The father gives the boy a little momentum building push and says, “pedal, pedal, pedal, pedal. Fast, fast, fast.” To the mothers amazement….the boy is doing it! He is coasting along the road, and as his feet find the pedals, the mechanics all come together….the boy is riding his bike! Suddenly, and a bit unexpectedly, the mother finds she has a lump in her throat. Overwhelmed by the emotion of the moment…his moment…not something she attempted to construct but something the boy did rooted in his own sense of determination…the mother feels a single tear fall down her cheek. “Dude…..excellent…that’s amazing!” the father cheers as he trots next to the bike.
The mother is so proud and while certainly she wished the learning process had been easier for the boy, the truth is…..this is the moment he will always remember….not the journey he took to get here. What will matter to the boy, as he thinks back on this day, is that his mother and father were there to cheer him on and revel in his success.
The Motherhood in Technicolor Memo: Of all the roles we fill in the parenting process, teacher is often the most challenging one. While it’s certainly rewarding once your child learns to master a new skill, the journey to get them there can be riddled in frustration and failure. The reality is each of our children learns and takes interest in things at their own speed. Being able to walk along side them in both an encouraging and yet motivating manner is a skill teacher-parents must master. Once we sweep aside the fog of our own idiosyncrasies, a clear truth breaks through like a piercing ray of light…..our children are not our identical genetic clones but in some cases gloriously individual genetic recombinations.
Summer Smith is a speaker, writer, and motherhood blogger. She and her family are currently navigating the suburbs of Northern Virginia. As the mother to four young children, Summer maintains her sanity thanks to her sense of humor, copious amounts of coffee, and Amazon Prime. Maya Angelou once said, when reflecting on her childhood, that her mother left an impression like technicolor stars in the midnight sky. Influenced by these words, Summer blogs at her website Motherhood in Technicolor, and can also be found on her Motherhood in Technicolor Facebook page.