I've been slow in posting this week. I've been down since last Friday with a head/chest cold that just WILL NOT go away. I thought I was better - hell, I WAS better - Monday and Tuesday, but Tuesday night things went south and I've been horrible ever since. Normally I'm pretty healthy, as are the kids. Sans the behavioral issues, I have extremely healthy specimens for offspring. When the intestinal viruses come through, what will knock out a normal kid for two days will only put one of these prizefighters out for a few hours. Its uncanny. And impressive. I typically get a bad head/chest cold every two to three years. I had one a couple of years ago that knocked me out for two weeks, and the year I was pregnant with Little Man I had FIVE bronchial infections. Apparently my body was too busy growing a baby to fight off germs. I think he was born carrying a Z-pack in his hand.
So, I'm down for the count. If I wasn't so much wanting to sleep all the damn time I would have posted this sooner.
Two weeks ago, while he was over doing a kid swap, J had a suggestion. The kids have always wanted trampolines and I have always put my foot down firmly on the side of OVER MY DEAD BODY. I hate those things. Not only do I find them unsightly, but they terrify the crap out of me. I was acquainted in college with a guy named Brian Sternberg. Brian was a pole vaulter at the University of Washington. Brian was the 1963 NCAA pole vault champion and a two-time world record holder. He was named for the US team for the annual US/Russia dual meet that year. In 1985, when I first met Brian, he was in a wheelchair. He has been paralyzed from the neck down since the summer of 1963 when he was injured in a -- here it comes -- trampoline accident. So yeah, NO TRAMPOLINES IN MY YARD. EVER. (Brian is a really incredible man, for the record, and he has been involved over the years in some really incredible research aimed at returning mobility to people who have suffered severe spinal injuries. Google him sometime if you're interested).
So anyway, J was over and he said that he saw an ad in a magazine for a trampoline. Before I could get the words "No fucking way" out of my mouth, he said "No, I think this would be safe." He had seen an ad for a mini-trampoline that also had a stabilizer bar to hold on to. Something that would fit in the living room, or bedroom, or play room. Not meant for doing air somersaults on, but for jumping, running, bouncing on. He thought because Amazon Girl had been begging for one for so long that it might be another option for her for her daily Hard Work. I was forced to reconsider my stance, it sounded so reasonable. When I asked the kids what they thought of us getting some little trampolines for them to play on, you would have thought I had asked them what they thought of Santa coming by to drop off a crap-ton of extra presents after bathtime. "YES YES YES, Mommy!! YES!" (What's really awesome about this is that even though J made the initial suggestion, *I* seem to be getting all the credit, a spectacular coup in the old game of parenting one-upmanship).
I did a little research on sizes, capabilities, benefits, workouts, etc. I learned that trampoline workouts not only are great for an aerobic workout, but that the bounding also benefits the lymphatic system. That little moment at the top of the jump where the body defies gravity, then descends for a nice gentle return to the air facilitates lymphatic circulation and the processing of toxins. So, okay. Trampoline YES. I found a trampoline at the local Big 5 on sale for $54.99. The kids are in love with it:
I have also tried it out, the second day we had them I took a half hour run/bounce session. It was a terrific workout! The best part about it for the kids is that to them it's not even exercise. Its just having FUN. The worst part is the fighting over it. Whichever one is one it, the other one is put out. I won't let them jump on it together, because, you know PARALYSIS. That and I can so easily envision them making up a game called "bounce up and down while punching your sibling in the face." So the refereeing job I unwillingly volunteer for about 50 hours a week hasn't really changed much, but hey, HARD WORK. Its a small price to pay, really.