Night of the Cow Caper

Do you ever hear strange noises in your home? After 5 moves in fewer than 5 years, there is always a time of adjustment to the new sounds. Likewise, in the first few days of a military deployment, the source of every strange noise on earth suddenly resides in my home. Apparently last night around 2:00am there was a light metallic knocking on the front door. My husband reported this to me this morning, saying the neighbors had been out with the dogs as well. For the sake of all involved, I hope he greeted the noise with more than just his shorts and handgun (typical male uniform for nighttime noise discovery). We will see when the invitations to the neighborhood picnic go out.

This weekend a new noise broke the peace and ‘tranquility’ of the evening after the firstborn’s bedtime. Between a long day, hormone spikes (courtesy of my unborn), and having resided in Texas for more than 2 minutes, there was no way around it.  I needed the sweet Nectar of Life: Bluebell Ice Cream.

I smiled as I turned into the kitchen. My hand gripped the handle of the freezer when my joyous pre-Bluebell coma happiness was shattered by a clear, deep, guttural…”Moooooooo!”

Yes, at 13 weeks pregnant and reaching for the ice cream, my refrigerator mooed at me. For a brief moment I glanced at my shoulder, ready to squash the Jiminy Cricket who dared to offer dietary advice in a bovine manner. Then Another moo, but not from my shoulder.  A little more to the right.  I took a step to the right and saw the Fisher Price magnetic farm toy stuck to the side of the fridge. Apparently, about 4 minutes after last detectable contact the farm will make a noise and then go into sleep mode. Pieces of a barnyard massacre were scattered on the floor; plastic eyes stared up at me as if they had seen their frozen cousins at the last freezer opening. I ignored the call of the wild and opened the freezer. I hugged my tub of Happy Tracks (proper form for opening the lid of this glorious ice-cream) and prepared a small bowl.  As I returned the container to the freezer, I pushed the red button on the farm to “off”.

There are enough challenges with body image and self-esteem out there; no need to go into a rant on that behalf. I mean, diet advice given by a Fisher Price farm animal is worth much more than the billions spent by the beauty industry guilt trips.

We all have bad days. Lately I’ve had a few for the record books. I don’t always ignore the calls of barn animals but on this day my taste buds sang the Blue-Bell ice-cream jingle while I took a moment for myself. Well, myself and my unborn who clearly needs calcium. It’s about mother’s love, people.   There will always be dissenting voices in life. If you have a voice that says,” Hey, Heifer! After more ice cream are you?” may it be be as easy to put out to pasture. Image

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