Sleeping through the night.
Potty-training.
Among these and many others within the Clan lies the learned skill of trampolining. Trampolining is actually a fussy term for flips and acrobatics on the backyard 14-ft trampoline.
This is actually our second one, our first one was used and abused so often that it wore holes in the nylon, threatening to release a stray ankle or elbow into the ground below.
{Which reminds me:does anyone remember the old school trampolines, the ones with the straps crisscrossing across the face of it? I went on one trampoline like that as a child, and quickly got my foot caught in the strap. Scared the crap out of me. }
As a mother I have sat patiently in lawn chairs watching in anticipation each child master the skill of the perfect front flip. At first was Doe, who mastered the skill readily and with little effort. But let's be clear, she was the type of child to get up at 6 am and go out on her own into the backyard and do flips by herself. Again and again and again.
I had to tell her that she was not allowed out on the trampoline when I was in the shower or when I left them to run an errand.
Within months she was doing back flips, jackknifes, forward rolls, diving rolls, double twists and on and on...which is all better than her literally climbing the walls and wrapping herself around furniture and appliances.
And also running into traffic.
Tank took his time mastering the skill set. He was a bit more fearful of the contraption, acting casual as he hung onto the supports. You could see the fear in his eyes. But in his own time he became a skilled acrobat.
Because of early vision problems in pre-school we were referred to a vision therapist who recommended doing activities such as gymnastics and acrobatics to work on his peripheral vision and 'his place in space'. He loved tumbling and eventually started doing his own types of flips. At first he would do sideways twisters, not fully symmetric, and always land on his side, but in time he would flip in tandem with his sister.
So imagine his joy when his younger sister and biggest competitor, Bump, decided that this was the summer she was going to master the front flip.
Front flip for those unaware: Involves jumping straight up and then flipping completely forward, landing with both feet standing up on the trampoline. This is the elementary skill set required to do more complicated maneuvers.
Today was the day for a crash course. And I was sitting there patiently watching her, as I had done before and again, (because they always begged me to be their audience), it struck me how time has brought me to this point.
As I sat dreamily watching her from the patio Tank came outside to investigate. What followed was a comedy of sitcom proportions. Yet again I am near prompted to contact TLC and see if they want to make a reality show about us Olsens.
But we have no disabilities or quirks or socially unacceptable behavior.
We don't belong to a cult, we aren't married to sister wives, and we don't have a large pumpkin patch in Oregon and spend our days beating the sh*t out of each other with verbal warfare.
We're just plain old Amurricans. Who like to squabble but not in a mean-spirited Roloff sort of fashion.
Tank took up his post on the trampoline while his sister was jumping repeatedly on it. He would lazily call out instructions.
"You're not going to get anywhere in Life if you don't jump higher".
Deep esoteric thinking there, son. That needs to be made into a t-shirt.
After a few minutes of good-natured squabbling and shooting soft barbs back and forth, the volume got turned up.
"Bump you are the hardest child to teach. I was able to do a flip a whole year before you did!"
Bump (pausing for comedic effect): "Well...maybe because you didn't have YOU for a teacher."
I usually don't encourage insults among siblings, but that one earned a LoL and a "Good one, Bump!" from the impartial Mother.
Tank would get increasing screech-like in his instructions, shouting that she wasn't doing it right, that she needed to get over CLOSER TO THE SPRINGS TO JUMP HIGHER and OH MY GOSH YOU ARE NOT LISTENING YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO GET THIS. WHY CAN'T YOU LISTEN?
After 20 minutes of listening to Tank's commands, she was starting to show progress. When she would jump she would not bend her knees but jump jackknife straight, only to pull her knees up at the last minute as she started her front roll. She would land time and again on her heels and fall back. Donk. Donk. Donk., Donk. Donk. Fall backwards and land on her back, long blonde ponytail swishing. Baby hairs around her scalp starting to appear and her angelic face looking all the more angelic haloed by golden strands as the Tank's demanding style became more voluble.
In a tear of frustration Tank got off the trampoline and went into the kitchen, where Doe was inside baking cookies. He was squawking at her to come help their sister, because she "wasn't..." and "she won't..." and "Can you come out and show her because she...". Doe breezed past her brother out the back door across the patio all the way speaking under her breath said to Tank "Stand back. You've done enough."
"Bump" she said "When you do it, you have to ACT like you're grabbing the air" and she did a grabbing motion with both arms.
She came out in her Sunday best, walked over to the trampoline with a Charlie Chaplin expression her face and did a perfect rolling dive. Walked back off the trampoline and back into the house. Duly impressing her sister, possibly inspiring her form, and frustrating the hoo-haw out of her brother.
Bumpo started in again mimicking the air-grabbing motion, and again landed on her butt, Donk. Donk. Donk.
Tank again started to criticize.
Bumpo in her lowest point said "Shut your pie-hole".
"I don't like that language!" I sing-songed.
Really to no one in particular.Doe came out again and then determined that her Sunday church clothes were not really appropriate for jumping, so she said "I'm going to change into jumping clothes" appearing later in a tie-dyed shirt she'd made and shorts.
Meanwhile, as a bit of a reprieve, Bumpo took to climbing up the aluminum support beams that once held up a 'safety net' that my children quickly punched holes in with their bony feet and knife-like elbows and knees. She would shimmy up the beams, across the top support and then hang upside down, arms flailing nearly as much as my heart as I watched.
She mocked her brother as he was a bit more wary. He would do the shimmy but not release his arms. Finally he did, and even for a split second let them dangle below his ears. But just for an instant. Then self-preservation set in. And the reality of hanging is: upside down on an aluminum bar the diameter of a shower curtain rod did not bode well for the continuance of the Olsen name. Which is true because he is the only male out of this side of the clan. Different pressure on him.
"Everybody should a fear of jumping and breaking their neck" he said so matter-of-fact. Like, helloOo?
After the somewhat humbling experience of watching Nat crawl like a gibbon across the aluminum support structure, the return to flipping instruction recommenced.
Higher.
Faster.
Hush, she said.
"You're not going to make it without me" he proclaimed with such finality that we all believed that he might be on to something.
Meanwhile Doe returned (after putting another tray of cookies in the oven) and touched on an announcement that Tank had made earlier.
" 'Legs of Steel'....What does that even mean?" she queried.
The harping and language became coarser.
Until I came up with the brilliant Sermon theme from last week: "Speak Life. Not Death. If you aren't encouraging or lifting each other up, you're speaking Death. Speak Life."
All the while, Bump never stopped smiling.
Fun day.
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