Lola, the Destroyer of All
Yesterday the UPS man brought us a new kid trampoline. To replace the ankle-biter skin stripping Urban Rebounder I got off of craigslist that was soooooo not meant for children. (And that is my purpose...to give the kids something with which to expend energy in our small flat when the weather is grey. As in, "Get off of our sister and go bounce!")
I had read that these bungee-based kid versions were bitches to put together, but had some optimism that either I would do fine or I could make Aaron-the-Putter-Together-of-All-Things do it. So this morning, Lola and Zada and I dumped the pieces into a pile and got to work. Or. Zada watched while Lola licked and I sorted. I know enough to take stock of the parts before starting, so I counted the bolts and tubes and bars and bungees and it all was A-OK.
I did it! I assembled! I stretched bungee! I felt so smug!
And then, I got to the part where the bungee has been properly stretched all around and you get to the part where you attach the two ends and....wait a minute....there isn't enough slack. (Of course, because this is a trampoline, dumb Ellen, that relies on taut and slackless bungees). I tugged and pulled and ooooounched the bits of bungee slack all around by pinching it down with one monkey foot while tugging the bungee end like a very hungry crow pulling a worm out of the ground.
Did I mention that Lola is not helpful? That she wants to apply her 13 month old experience to every screw, allen wrench grasped oh so tightly in her fist, convinced that mommy need not help her? That she screams when said Allen Wrench is removed from her paw? That she HAD to sit in the middle of the trampoline fabric even though I was still trying to attach it?
Well, back to the trampoline. I could not for the life of me muster the strength to attach the end of the bungee to the beginning of the bungee. My hands were cramping, I was sweaty, I was frustrated. I was very very very close to using language that would have added a few choice phrases to Zada's four year old vocab. So I tied a knot (VERY not uber mommy safe and NOT according to the directions and POSSIBLY dangerous short cut but WHO CARES) and called it a day. I moved on to the part where you attach the handle bar that helps your little jumpers propel themselves to the heavens.
But...where were those two bar attacher pieces? I had two ready, counted them, now can't find them, and I needed two. OK, so things aren't so clean in the living room. I sort though the heap of pajamas, the box for the trampoline, the baby toys, the endlessly growing paper pile, the box of strange Aaron objects waiting to be sorted by their master. On my tummy, I find one rolled waaaaaay under the couch. Great! The other must be nearby.
I looked and looked until my patience was oh so gone and I am yelling at poor Zada who seemed to be exactly where I needed to be everytime I turned around and Lola who is smiling at me oooooohhhhhh so smugly from her almost completed, just-one-step-missing, trampoline perch. It's like she enjoyed this or something.
I moved the couches. Uck...San Francisco mold. Dust. Toys and deflated balloons. A cheerio (fancy that). But alas, no part. Under the tv cabinet, loveseat, etc? No part.
But then I looked at my daughter. Little Lola. Just-turned-one Lola. And I remembered something I saw. Little "Bob the Builder" Lola. Putting small things in large things. Putting screws and allen wrenches in holes. And I knew. My missing part was IN the trampoline.
I picked the Destroyer of All Good and Productive Mornings up and put her to the side. I tipped the trampoline over.
Clink.
It was inside the hollow bars of the trampoline. Shoved in while mommy was busy with something else. Sealed in by mommy and Zada and their blasted screws.
So, off comes the bungee. I'm nearly crying as I loosen the very bungee that took me thirty minutes, fifty mental swear words, shaky palms and sweat to put there. I unscrew the whole thing, and then the shiny missing part drops out and just laughs at me. Lola was like, "Oh! There's my toy!" and happily picked it up and sat on the floppy pile of trampoline parts.
I need a double latte.
I had read that these bungee-based kid versions were bitches to put together, but had some optimism that either I would do fine or I could make Aaron-the-Putter-Together-of-All-Things do it. So this morning, Lola and Zada and I dumped the pieces into a pile and got to work. Or. Zada watched while Lola licked and I sorted. I know enough to take stock of the parts before starting, so I counted the bolts and tubes and bars and bungees and it all was A-OK.
I did it! I assembled! I stretched bungee! I felt so smug!
And then, I got to the part where the bungee has been properly stretched all around and you get to the part where you attach the two ends and....wait a minute....there isn't enough slack. (Of course, because this is a trampoline, dumb Ellen, that relies on taut and slackless bungees). I tugged and pulled and ooooounched the bits of bungee slack all around by pinching it down with one monkey foot while tugging the bungee end like a very hungry crow pulling a worm out of the ground.
Did I mention that Lola is not helpful? That she wants to apply her 13 month old experience to every screw, allen wrench grasped oh so tightly in her fist, convinced that mommy need not help her? That she screams when said Allen Wrench is removed from her paw? That she HAD to sit in the middle of the trampoline fabric even though I was still trying to attach it?
Well, back to the trampoline. I could not for the life of me muster the strength to attach the end of the bungee to the beginning of the bungee. My hands were cramping, I was sweaty, I was frustrated. I was very very very close to using language that would have added a few choice phrases to Zada's four year old vocab. So I tied a knot (VERY not uber mommy safe and NOT according to the directions and POSSIBLY dangerous short cut but WHO CARES) and called it a day. I moved on to the part where you attach the handle bar that helps your little jumpers propel themselves to the heavens.
But...where were those two bar attacher pieces? I had two ready, counted them, now can't find them, and I needed two. OK, so things aren't so clean in the living room. I sort though the heap of pajamas, the box for the trampoline, the baby toys, the endlessly growing paper pile, the box of strange Aaron objects waiting to be sorted by their master. On my tummy, I find one rolled waaaaaay under the couch. Great! The other must be nearby.
I looked and looked until my patience was oh so gone and I am yelling at poor Zada who seemed to be exactly where I needed to be everytime I turned around and Lola who is smiling at me oooooohhhhhh so smugly from her almost completed, just-one-step-missing, trampoline perch. It's like she enjoyed this or something.
I moved the couches. Uck...San Francisco mold. Dust. Toys and deflated balloons. A cheerio (fancy that). But alas, no part. Under the tv cabinet, loveseat, etc? No part.
But then I looked at my daughter. Little Lola. Just-turned-one Lola. And I remembered something I saw. Little "Bob the Builder" Lola. Putting small things in large things. Putting screws and allen wrenches in holes. And I knew. My missing part was IN the trampoline.
I picked the Destroyer of All Good and Productive Mornings up and put her to the side. I tipped the trampoline over.
Clink.
It was inside the hollow bars of the trampoline. Shoved in while mommy was busy with something else. Sealed in by mommy and Zada and their blasted screws.
So, off comes the bungee. I'm nearly crying as I loosen the very bungee that took me thirty minutes, fifty mental swear words, shaky palms and sweat to put there. I unscrew the whole thing, and then the shiny missing part drops out and just laughs at me. Lola was like, "Oh! There's my toy!" and happily picked it up and sat on the floppy pile of trampoline parts.
I need a double latte.
posted by Ellen at 10:11 AM
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