"The bike's going pee-pee?" Ava asks.
"The bike's going pee-pee" I say.
We watch the oil pour from the drain holes of my 450 until Trisha comes in the garage holding Elise. "Are you going to be leaving soon? Elise is ready."
"We're almost ready," I say. "We just have to add some oil and we're done."
"The bike is thirsty!" Ava says to Trisha, pointing at the bottles of oil on the ground. Trisha nods. "The bike is thirsty a lot, isn't it?" she says.
It's Sunday and it's almost time for us to go riding. Trisha, my wife, needs some time to paint the living room today, so I will be watching the girls: Ava, who is 3, and Elise, who is six months old. And since Sunday is usually my only day to ride, it means it will be a daddy-daughter track day. We are going to Mustang.
My dad, who will be the babysitter to the girls while I am actually on the track, arrives, says hello to the girls and looks over the bike. We roll the bike into the truck, and I start to go over my mental checklist for the day:
Gear bag? Check. Helmet? Check. Diapers? Check. Chain lube? Check. Baby Bottles? Check. Gas can? Check. Potty chair? Check. Formula? Check. Those plastic keys Elise loves to play with? Check.
Then it's on the road: Dad in front with his pickup truck that carries the gear, my bike and Ava's bicycle, and me in tow with my Accord with two carseats, the diaper bag and random Disney princess stickers stuck to the inside of the rear passenger window (Ava's work.)
We arrive. Big-bike practice is going out, but Elise is crying for some formula. I throw my helmet on the floor and grab her can of Enfamil Lipil.
She always drinks slowly, but she drinks even slower today. Bikes start to fill up the track while mine sits in the back of my dad's truck. "I'll feed her if you roll the bike out," my dad offers. He is clearly ancy.
Dad feeds Elise her bottle while I roll the bike out. This is slightly funny to me: according to my mom, when I and my sister were babies, my dad never changed diapers or did the other dirty tasks that come with infants. Now, as a grandfather who is eager to help his son ride a little bit more, his comeuppance has arrived. Elise fights to push his hands away from the bottle.
"She keeps pushing my hands away," he says, looking for advice.
"She'll do that," I say.
Finally it's onto the track. I turn a few laps and forget about all the stress it took to get there. When I roll back to the truck, Dad is alone. "Where are the girls?" I ask.
"Cheryl has them," he says nonchalantly. He points over to some lawn chairs where our friend Cheryl, who is here to watch her son Chris ride, has cheerfully taken over the babysitting duties. He is off the hook, and can now scrutinize my riding with his usual fervor. "What we're you doing out there anyway? You looked like you were on a cruise."
I visit with the girls, both of whom are now happy with Cheryl, who is an apt entertainer of little girls. "Did you see daddy on the track?" I ask Ava.
She looks at me and squints as though this were a silly question. "You're all dirty," she says, always mindful of the hygiene problems presented by motocross.
The day goes on. I go back on the track often to squeeze in as many laps as possible before the girls become cranky. Ava is momentarily captivated by the Care Flight helicopter that lands and takes an injured rider away. "Like daddy!" she says.
Elise, after yet another bottle and some playtime with Cheryl, finally surrenders to sleep. Loud 450s blast by, but there is no waking Elise now. She's had enough motocross for one day.
After riding for a long time, I finally thank Cheryl for her kindness and take back the girls. Ava is tired now and has suddenly remembered that I promised to take her to In and Out if she was good. "I want a vanilla shake" she says. So a vanilla shake is what we get.
When we get home, Trisha is tired and a little stressed. She has been working hard on the living room, and the toil has gotten to her. I feel pretty good, so I take the girls with me as I clean up and put things away.
When we come back, Trisha rests for a bit and asks Ava if she had fun. Ava thinks for a minute as she colors her coloring book.
"It was pretty good," she says without looking up.
****
There are lots of times when the demands of parenthood seem like too much, and I wonder whether I can even keep riding like I always did before the girls. Both the girls and my riding demand lots of attention if I'm handling either of them correctly, and there is no way I can short-change the girls--they're just too important.
But I still love motocross. So I try to balance as well as I can. Sometimes that means that formula gets spilled in my gear bag, or that I can barely hold my eyes open at the track because Elise didn't sleep well the night before.
But that's the sacrifice. And I see no choice but to keep on making it.
Below are some of the scenes from Mustang's Oakley Ride Day. If you missed it, you missed a giant crowd and a nicely prepped layout, as well as a solid freestyle demo with Dustin Miller (shown right,) Johnny Vallerio and Paul Mudd, the chance to make your own custom Oakley goggles and a whole lot of free food and music.
It doesn't matter that I haven't raced in months or that I don't have the energy or time to train properly anymore: my dad still wants me to try my hardest every time I throw a leg over the bike. He says I need to get back my fitness and mental sharpness so I can be ready. 
