A bicycle built for 3? Well not exactly, one bike and one rugged, hard plastic bike trailer that seated two children is what we bought and modified when I had the itch to ride again.

With the birth of Audra's brother it became evident that if I ever wanted to ride a bicycle again I would need a bike trailer to tow the two of them around. This was before the trailer's and biking were very popular so we had to be creative. We took the head rest and side support off of one of Audra's old wheelchairs and my husband attached them to one of the seats in the trailer. A quick change of the strapping system and the trailer was set to carry Audra, as well as her brother safely, both in comfort and style. A big yellow flag was an added safety feature.

The trailer was easy to maneuver and it was great to have "wheels" again and to feel the wind blowing through my hair and in my mind I sang "happy trails to you" again and again.

I wrote this for the MORE News back in 1997. The first year of Audra's life I tried so hard to do everything by the book. To be "normal" finally I gave up on trying to be "normal" and found that doing what worked was easier then trying to conform to "normal".

Normal is a four letter word. Not technically, but, certainly when it comes to me it is. My brother once told me that I should dress normal and have normal friends so that I would "fit in," so I ditched my baggy hip hugging bell bottom jeans for form fitting pants with designer names on the butt. I gave away my tie dyed halter top for polyester shirts and lost my hippie friends for more "normal" people. (yes folks, it was the '70's)

When my child was born I checked her over to make sure she had ten fingers and ten toes, one belly button, and one nose. When I took her to the doctor he said that "she would never be normal." But I kept her anyway

So, when my children wouldn't sleep in their beds I let them sleep wherever they lay. My husband said that it wasn't normal.

When dinner time at the table always ended in a war over who would eat or not eat and one child regurgitating all over his plate, I let them eat in the living room on TV trays. But my father said that it wasn't normal.

Some time between the re-birth of platform shoes and the Brady Bunch I realized that it was just to exhausting to keep on trying to be normal. I liked the way my household ran, my kids quirky habits and yes, my bell bottom jeans.

Once I looked up the definition of "normal" in the dictionary. It said that it meant ordinary. I often think how bland and boring it would be to go through life simply being NORMAL!