When Mommy Becomes a One-Legged-Chicken

Craziness hit our house this morning: That big-ole-heavy-glass-jar filled with thick alfredo sauce that had been sitting on the very top shelf of the refrigerator door secretly attached itself to the bottle of maple syrup; so when I innocently lifted out the syrup to decorate 2YO’s waffle, BAMB! The jar detached itself from the syrup and came crashing down full force like a mallet striking the center of my left big toe. And that’s not the end of the story.

Fast forward five minutes later when I’m whimpering to myself in throbbing pain. Having hobbled like a one-legged chicken over to the couch and repeatedly maneuvered the bag of frozen peas in attempts to discover a non-pain-inducing position, I both kindly and not-so-kindly tell toddler-girl that she may NOT touch the swollen toe that I suppose is appearing to her like this magical fuchsia and lavender balled ornament that she just cannot resist trying to touch, especially when it’s sporting her favorite colors. 

Ten minutes later: Several more yelps up to sleeping husband with requests for him to go get crying baby boy who is still upstairs in his crib.  Right then, just as I’m staring at the bag of frozen green peas, I hear daddy yell down the most ironic of all statements: “Did you give him peas for dinner last night? … He threw up peas all over the crib!”

Could this story get any worse? Never underestimate the power of a crazy morning. (In fact, I think I will switch to the third person narration to give this story full effect.)

Mommy is sitting there in pain when 2YO whines that dreaded, “My tummy hurts!” Mommy leaps off that couch on her one chicken leg, lifts little girl to the potty JUST in the knick of time. A surprise explosion—captured! Yes, Mommy grins with delight seeing that we made it to the potty. Mommy hops to the other side of the house and back to grab the wipes and get her disposable rubber gloves to properly sanitize little girl.  Daddy, on the contrary, is functioning as the two-legged headless chicken, stripping down a dirty but still ever-so-cute baby boy, scrubbing down both baby and the smelly crib, and running outside armed with rubber gloves to shake those peas out of a soggy crib sheet.  Now that’s what you call teamwork!

So how does this story end? When all are cleaned and redressed, several hours later, all agree they never want to see peas for a very long time. Mommy and Daddy look at each other and roll their eyes; this was nothing compared to last year. Then, baby boy goes down for his morning nap. Mommy hobbles into her warm bed with her big sore toe sticking out from under lots of comfy covers. Toddler-girl snuggles next to mommy watching cartoons, and Daddy surprises Mommy with breakfast in bed—Greek eggs, tomatoes, and feta cheese. Perhaps there is a happy ending to this story after all (even if only lasting a few minutes). 


Posted by Laura