Falling and Getting Hurt

Yesterday, while getting my kids from their preschool, and remembering to walk our bike out of the parking and pickup area, I lost it. Like a serious leather biker dumps their bike, but with kids on it. Clump and I couldn’t pick them up on their slow descent to the ground.

Luckily, they both wear helmets. They were unscathed if not a bit shaken.

I was the mom who couldn’t pick up my heavy beast of a bike, with its luggy battery pack and solid frame in yellow. Half of my right foot came out of its flat, all twisted like a newly bound foot. My knee bit the ground and I murmured “F—” with two other moms (and my kids) around.


“Are you okay”? asks the mom who is slowing steering her pram into the site. “Daijobu desu ka?” I am still battling for the will and strength to pick up my bike with kids on it, tilted and operating with a knee that must be bloody. Clearly, I am not alright.

“Daijobu janai” I reply, all misaligned, head eying the ground where the frame lays, kids flailing like beetles on their backs, still on the ground because I still can’t pick them up. I must be at a weird angle.

Another mom comes in and now rushes to pick up my bike. My jeans are ripped and sure enough, a red line is peeking out. I walk us out of the main gate and wonder how solid I am to take these guys home. I decide with kids that I need to lift weights because I must need more strength so I can help them and others.

I push us past lights and cross streets, knee pulsing with each pedal-kick. “I’ll be your doctor, Mom. We’ll get you a Band-aid and medicine and I’ll put it on.”


She sifts through the tin, shuffling bright kid bandages out of the way. Doctor daughter retrieves the necessary bland adult ones and washes her hands. She sits me down, ordering me in Japanese. “This is a Japanese office. We don’t understand English.” She is taking care of me, seeing me through what I cannot do as well. This is her niche. I just have to sit and not flinch. She preps the two Band-aids, custom-sized to my two bloody scrapes, a gooey dose of medicine subduing the sore pain. She ends with a hug.

I think this is a perfect snapshot of life today– failing, falling, and letting my kids see my desire to be strengthened, letting them be part of the healing. I am a good patient. I appreciate the kindness. That’s the point. Leveling your bike, falling on your butt can bring out the grace. In the morning, I’ll ask my girl to look at my wounds and assess for further care.

The jeans are a bit done for, unless I want to rock a hole and be the biker mom. Or maybe it’s time for me to simply ride in leather.

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