Here Begins the Bouncy-Bounce

Uh-oh is right!

Two summers ago, thanks to the then-7-month-old Jordy and his parents (who were determined to let me have a taste of what parenthood was really like), I learned the game of the bouncy-bounce. No, wait! Let me rephrase that. Two years ago, I learned that being a parent sometimes meant lifting the equivalent of a 15-20 lb sandbag repetitively for 5 to 10 minutes all for that gigglish laughter that can put a smile on anyone's face.

While I was visiting, Jordy's parents took the opportunity to go on a date, leaving me, a person who had absolutely zero experience taking care of children of any age, home alone with the baby whom they lovingly nicknamed "The Monster". I did the only thing I was sure Jordy liked, the bouncy-bounce, as a preemptive measure. It worked like a charm. Jordy did not get upset, and my arms nearly fell off when his parents finally came home 2 hours later.

That was the very first lesson I learned about parenthood: You don't need no gym to get killer biceps. Bouncy-bouncin' a baby will do a much better job. And... (this is something new I learned) you may also get your stomach flattened if your baby, like mine, uses the parent's tummy as the stomping ground (which then forces you to tighten your abdomenal muscles in order to withstand the impact). Two birds one stone. Can't get any better than that, right?

Yeah... that's what I kept telling myself when my right arm was so sore that the left arm had to help lift it up so I could scratch an itch on the back of my head. Tomorrow is a new day... another day of the bouncy-bounce.