When we moved to Edwardsville from the city, I wanted to make a few changes to fit in with my new suburban surroundings.

My first big adjustment was biking. Edwardsville is surrounded by beautiful bike trails, including one right near my street. Everyone bikes here. It’s law.

Getting a bike meant I also had to get a bike trailer to haul the Little P’s around. The first time I climbed on my shiny new bike with a 4-year-old in the trailer, I thought, "Ok, this is heavy, but I can handle this. I exercise every day; hauling an extra 60 pounds shouldn’t be too hard."

It was. I rode maybe a mile hauling the trailer before I puked along the bike path. Right in front of the 7-year-olds pedaling past me in terror. Yeah, I’m athletic.

So, my bike trailer has set motionless in my garage all summer.

A couple of weeks ago, some moms I recently met mentioned how they go biking with their kids, and would I and the Little P’s want to come along some time? Since I don’t know too many moms in E-town, I blurted out, “Oh, we’d love to!” and then silently smacked myself in the head.

I knew I’d have to whip myself into shape to keep up with these athletic moms, so one evening, I packed up the 4-year-old in the trailer, and upon insistence from Mr. P, piled the 25-pound 14-month-old in as well.

“Oh, you’ll be fine,” he vowed. “Look how happy she is!”

Now, I know from experience, Itty-Bitty P does not like riding in the trailer, but she seemed content, so we strapped her in, and I headed down the trail.

Miraculously, even with the extra weight, the ride went smoothly. I even made it up some teeny-tiny hills without expelling my dinner along the way.

After a mile, though, Itty-Bitty P started whining. Then she started wailing. And then she screamed like a tween at a Justin Bieber concert. I turned around to notice she had managed to roll around so much, the belt was riding up her chest.

Immediately I pulled over, took her out of the seat to readjust the belt, and then…could not get her back in the trailer. If you’ve ever tried to calm a 14-month-old down, you know how strong they are. Like Rowdy Roddy Piper on Red Bull and Skittle-strong. I begged, threatened and bargained, but that kid was not about to be strapped back in. I couldn’t simply sit her in the trailer either – the second she sat down, she’d kick open the Velcro with her Stride Rites and tumble onto the path.

So, with no other choice, I hiked her up on my hip, secured the 4-year-old in the trailer and walked all three of us and the bike a mile back to the house. If you think vomiting on a bike trail is embarrassing, walking a bike while holding a screaming toddler and swearing without cussing is the ultimate in cycling shame.

After 25 minutes, I finally made it home. Sweaty, sore and ready to throw my bike in the dumpster.

I handed off my now extremely chipper and giggly baby to Mr. P, chugged down a glass of ice water, and sat down to my computer to open up Facebook. I knew I had one thing to say to my new mom friends.

“So, instead of biking, are you interested in grabbing a glass of wine one night?”

By Nicole Plegge, Lifestyle Blogger for SmartParenting