I'll take one order of Gob's chicken dance, please!

What's happened to me? I've literally turned into the world's biggest chicken. There was a time not so long ago when I'd be most happy testing the limits of my fear. Now, it seems that I can't cross the road without fearing for my life. Is this what happens when you become a mom? I don't remember reading it in the manual.

Before I got pregnant with Daphne I used to bike to work almost everyday (unless it was really pouring rain), then I had a bike accident. I was on my way to work, cruising down a hill when my lock detached from the bracket, fell off and got caught in my front wheel. It could have been really bad, there was a transit bus maybe 20 feet behind me but luckily the driver was able to drive around me as I took my head-over-the-handle-bars fall. At the time I was probably about a week pregnant with Daphne, and I didn't even know I was pregnant, yet for some reason my first thought was "What if I'm pregnant? Will the baby be okay?" It turns out I was, and fortunately she was just fine! Anyway, after the fall I was hesitant to get on my bike again, especially because a few weeks later I had confirmation that I was pregnant. There was no way I wanted to take any risks, even though I know many people who biked all nine months of their pregnancies without a hitch.

Because I wasn't biking I wanted to get some physical exercise in. I would walk one way to work some days, I started taking a prenatal yoga class and joined the old biddies at my gym for aquafit once a week. A few weeks into aquafit the gossip squad found out that I was pregnant. Most of the ladies were elated to find out, except for this one lady. She came up to me in the change room, said her congratulations and then proceeded to tell me that having a baby will make me worry like I've never worried before. She went on and on about how she always thought that the worry would go away, but that it gets worse and worse and now as an old lady she doesn't go a day without worrying about her son and his family. "Great", I thought. I'm already a worrier, if it's as bad a she says it is I'm screwed. Well, she was right; it's bad.

As you know, I started back at work a few weeks ago. For my first shift Dave and Daphne drove me in. Most other days I've taken the bus. I'd mentioned to Dave that I wanted to start biking again and he was kind enough to take my bike up the street and have it tuned up and ready to go for me (probably a good thing, since I was using the bike as a guide for how far I could get into the garage with the car without hitting anything). Once the bike was back, the excuses to get me out of biking to work started. One day it was because it looked like it was going to rain (I think there was one white cloud looming around). Another day it was because Daphne napped too long and I didn't have enough time to get ready and bike in. Another it was because I had a spare $2.50 in change lying around that needed to be spent for fear that coins were going to be taken out of circulation with no advance notice. Whatever the excuse, I'm sure I used it. Then one bright, sunny day, I was ready for work with over an hour to spare and I couldn't think of any possible excuse not to get on my bike so I did it, I biked in. And let me tell you, I was terrified! I hugged and kissed Dave and Daphne so much that I ended up with only 30 minutes to get to work. I said 'bye' to them like a soldier heading out to war and began my trek to work. I don't think I broke 5 km/hour I swear! I rode so slow that old people were passing me. Every time there was a change in the surface level of the road I would slow down to the point that my bike would start going backwards. The funniest part about this is that 99% of my commute uses separated bike lanes. And by separated bike lanes, I'm not talking about a little line of white paint, I'm talking about planters or concrete dividers. You'd have to be picked up by a tornado to land yourself into real traffic.

A cyclist's dream. Fully protected, double wide lanes.

And it doesn't stop with the biking. We went to the U.S. the other day to buy a bike carrier (of all things!) for Daphne. Once we made our purchase, we were on our way to Target to kill sometime before heading out for dinner. Dave had done all the driving to this point, so I offered to drive us there. It was my first time driving in the States which made me a little uneasy, but I wasn't scared enough to refrain from asking Dave to compliment how well I drove us out of the parking lot. Then I merged onto the freeway and that's when the little confidence I had went out the window. As I drove along the I-5 I was so terrified that I started having flashbacks to the first time I went on The Zipper (it was my first thrill ride, and I cried so much, and so loudly, that they had to stop the ride to let me off). I lasted one whole exit before I pulled over and gave the reins back to Dave.

I hope this goes away, and fast. It's one thing to be terrified because you're about to jump off a bridge while strapped to a giant elastic band; it's another thing to be scared of a crack in the pavement, while on a bike, in a separated bike lane. I also hope this goes away before Daphne can understand how much of a wimp I am. If I have any hope of being the 'cool' parent, I'm going to have to get comfortable jumping out of planes and killing spiders. At the very least, I'll have to resort to plan B, which means busting out Dave's middle school photos and tap-dancing videos (I'd rather not go there if I don't have to). Furthermore, if we want to have any hope of Daphne not being a total scaredy cat herself, Dave and I have to show absolutely zero fear, all the time. You've seen this girl with her peapod tent, she needs all the help she can get!

Pre-Daphne: Need I say more?

Post-Daphne: We've taken to wearing helmets indoors.