What Does A Cow Say…”NO!”

Now that my second daughter has become the household parakeet (repeating every word we say…), I thought it only appropriate to introduce her to the Animal Quiz.  My oldest loved this game.  Just learning to talk, she felt so accomplished adding new animal noises to her repertoire each morning at the breakfast table.  With the mischievous, I’m-already-smarter-than-all-of-you-look emerging in her eyes…I knew Lo Lo would love this game.  As predicted, she proudly answered “Moo” for the cow, and “Baa” for the sheep…and then “No” for the duck.  Ironic, since previous to the ‘game’ everything seemed to quack.   Her older sister in hysterics over the incorrect duck answer…she asks her sister again…”Lo Lo (giggle giggle giggle), what does a cow say?”  Lo, now keenly aware that the wrong answer makes Brianne laugh uncontrollably, continues to play the “NO” game.  The cow says, “NO!” The sheep says, “NO!” The ducky says, “NO!  NO!  NO!”  At this point, they’re both laughing so hard they can barely breathe.  I knew Lauren was smart…but I didn’t anticipate such a youthful understanding of the cause and effect of sarcasm.

Isn’t that just how life works, though?  Just as soon as we bank on a predictable outcome, in comes the curve ball.  In this case, it’s a welcome lot of laughter.  Recently diagnosed with a pelvic stress fracture and grounded to crutches, the distance runner inside of me has curled up into the fetal position and sunk into a deep depression.  My final race I was seconds away from breaking 20 mins in the 5K…my post pregnancy goal.  Always one to see the silver lining in situations…after a month off of running and more intense pain than ever, it’s becoming hard to see the brighter side.  It’s a good thing the mom part of me exists to counter it with positivity.  I can’t get too low with storms of toddler laughter and ridiculous bouts of make believe ringing throughout the house.  The tears of pain and stir-craziness quite literally dry up when little Lo Lo comes barreling in the room, ‘Pebbles’-like single pony bouncing on the top of her head and smile full of Chiclet-like front teeth.

Upon arriving home with crutches, my dad said to my 3 year old, “Now you have to be extra good and help Mommy…”  Backed up by my husband, my daughter just stood there staring at them.  The message was clearly falling on deaf ears, Charlie Brown adult style.  Eyes glazed over, she was already constructing the back story to what Barbie and Ken were going to do that afternoon…and little Lo had already taken off to raid her big sister’s roomful of toys while undetected.  There’s been no outward effort to take it easy on Mommy (by the kids…) while I crutch around.  Mom cleans up.  Mom makes dinner.  Mom fixes boo-boo’s.  If I don’t, they just look at me like I’m an alien.  Daddy putting breakfast on the table?  Grandpa doing pre-school drop off?  Grandma doing tub time?  Foreign concept, I guess.  To them, I’m like a superhero.  Rushing here and there, making sure we cram the day full and appear fully color coordinated down to our socks and hair ties.  Anything less is just awkward.  Skip an activity?  Spend the day in jammies?  Huh?

Maybe it’s not them that need to take it easy on me…but me that needs to take it easy on us.  No more running through the pain, or endlessly crutching through the daily routine (and Cross Country meets, Pre-School, Shopping…) with a relentless ‘never give up’ attitude.  That’s my challenge.  Rest.  Do nothing.  I’d rather train for a marathon.  It would be less painful for me than sitting around doing nothing.  However…the silver lining is that it’s cold and rainy outside.  Perfect weather to teach Brianne how to read, and Lauren how to talk.  Maybe we can pick up a second language this winter….I”m sure we’ll find something to do…and a new way to be uber productive….I’ll bet crutches will make my arms strong…and my blog sure has been neglected lately…time to catch up.

Ahhhh….I feel better already. What’s a pig say, Lo?  ‘OINK!’  Progress…..

Happy boredom…

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