Someone once said that you're initiated as a parent the first time your kid pukes on you. That's happened to me multiple times: down the front of my sweater, down my back, on both shoulders, even right on top of my head. (Sadly, unlike mayo, baby hurl does not naturally condition hair.)

However, it was a couple of way-less-nasty events that made me really feel like a mom with a capital "hell, yeah," and they happened recently, all within 48 hours.

It began in my back alley. Kai was on his lime green Schwinn Gremlin with the skull bell that doubles as a compass, and for the first time, the training wheels were off and in a heap next to the recycling bin.

He started to pedal furiously while I ran next to him, my hand grasping his bike seat, trying to keep him steady. I let go, and for about six rotations, he rode (he rode!), then tipped over.

With the bike still on top of him, he turned to me with a smile I have never seen before.

"Moooooom!" he screamed. "I did it!"

Later, he asked me if -- now that he went from four wheels on his bike to two wheels -- was his next step to learn to ride a one-wheeler?

"Not necessarily," I said, inspired by his desire to keep improving. "But if you did go from four wheels to two wheels to one wheel, what would be your next step after that?"

"A no wheeler," he said, smirking.

The next night, Kai yanked out his first tooth while sitting at the neighbor's picnic table, and I, after having a less-than-magical day, played tooth fairy for the first time that evening. (In lieu of cash, we left floss and Starbursts under the pillow. One item to keep those chompers healthy; the other to assist in the extraction of more wobbly teeth.)

And then, somewhere between the extraction of the tooth and the training wheels, Kai learned to snap and whistle.

All of these new experiences for my son reminded me of two things. One, that I am in the thick of parenting now. These are the milestones I imagined when I decided I wanted to be a parent. I am living the dream. And I mean that literally, because even at this point, I am no stranger to sleep deprivation.

But that's another column.

What strikes me the most in my journey right now is that I'm blown away by the massive amount of learning a 6-year-old encounters. In the same amount of time, I'm not sure I acquired a single new skill. I did try a new fabric softener, but I don't think that counts.

As a self-described "experience junkie," I have to keep striving. Not only for my own growth, but as a model for my kids. My 6-year-old made me realize I've been coasting a little bit lately, letting routine replace expansion, and it's time to take the training wheels off my life.

There are so many things I want to do and learn, but for now, I put the Spanish / English dictionary back in the magazine rack in the bathroom. I am going to commit to learning new words again. This morning I learned "robot" in Spanish is "el robot."

It's a start.