Friday, March 1, 2013

No More Monkeys Jumping on the Bed


I once heard a comedian say that middle age is when things go wrong with your body and you don’t bother to fix them. You wake up with a sore hip one morning, and instead of thinking, “Hmm, I should go to a doctor and have this looked at,” you think, “OK, I guess I’ll have a bad hip for the rest of my life.” So when I started waking up with lower back pain almost every day, I assumed it was just because I was reaching middle age. But then I noticed that whenever I stayed at a hotel, my back didn’t hurt. Turns out it wasn’t old age, it was just an old mattress.

So I ordered a new mattress, which is scheduled to be delivered today. I told my 3-year-old son that Mommy and Daddy were getting a new bed, and once it came, he wouldn’t be allowed to jump on the bed any more. He gave me a sad look, but very obediently said, “Okay, Mommy.” That puppy dog face broke my heart, so I told him that before we got rid of the old mattress, we’d have a mother-son bed-jumping marathon. His face lit up like the 4th of July, so we both took off our shoes, clambered onto the bed, and started bouncing!

I haven’t jumped on a bed in more than 30 years, so I started off a bit tentatively, with some very gentle, hesitant bounces, waiting to see how my body and my bed would react. But suddenly, I was 8 years old again and jumping on the trampoline at my gymnastics class, and it all came back to me! I jumped higher and higher (fortunately, our bedroom has cathedral ceilings), and then I started to get fancy. I tried a seat drop, where you land in a sitting position with your legs outstretched. I tried a mid-air split. I tried a pike, which is like sitting in midair with your hands reaching out to touch your toes. I tried tucking myself into a ball in the air. I tried marching back and forth across the bed with my knees high. I flopped on my belly, arms and legs all akimbo. And my son mimicked every one of my moves as best he could, his grin as wide as the bed itself.

And we giggled. Oh, we giggled!

We finally ran out of steam and collapsed on the bed, still giggling. I gave my son a hug and he hugged me back and told me, “Thanks, Mama.”

What a wonderful memory we created, for those few brief moments! I’m a little sad that there will be no more monkeys jumping on my bed.

Luckily, there’s still no rule about not jumping on HIS bed…
 
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