Wednesday, September 9, 2009


When I take the babies for a walk in our super-duper BOB stroller that cost more than my first car, I tend to bring a hammer along. For protection. Just in case. I think it's a hormonal thing. I used to go walking and running pre-babies totally hammer-less. But now. Babies. MY babies. What I lack in stature, I like to think I make up for in scrappiness. And innovation in weaponry choices, apparently.

And if I had to, I would use it.

I probably won't have to.

I realized this the other day when getting ready to take the babies out for a little stroll. I also realized that 1. I have an active imagination and 2. Imagination + hammer + willingness to use it, may = trouble.

In an effort to avoid having to leave our neighbors a note to the tune of, Dear Neighbors...I apologize for throwing a hammer at your dog. I thought she was a bear! Oopsies. Should we BBQ sometime? I decided that perhaps I should wean myself from the hammer. Immediately.

So we walked, hammer-less.

And really, at first, it was fine. The sky was blue, the birds chirping, and the teensiest wisp of fall hanging in the background.

But then we approached one of the several farms on our road. And I should take a moment here to explain that I live in the country. Grew up here. This does not, however, necessarily mean that I am a country-girl. For instance, and please do not laugh, I am terrified of horses. Because JEE-SHUSH. Look at those things. It's not just horses. I lack a general trust of bugs, dogs, and wildlife in general. Animals can sense my fear.

I pushed the stroller along the road, attempting to be absolutely casual as I scoped out what sort of farm-stuff might be hanging out in the field. Two cows. This I can handle. Cows, I am not so much afraid of. Like I am supposed to be intimidated by their ferocious moos. Feeling bold, I kind of threw my shoulders back and did a little "I can totally walk without a hammer" swagger.

And maybe that's what pissed them off. Because all of a sudden, these peaceful bovines charged their rickety fence. Cow-bells jingling, they did a sort of moo-growl and snorted steam out of their noses and flickered the fires of hell in their big ol' brown cow eyes. And they charged the fence again. And again.

I picked up my pace, thinking to myself, "I bet I should not run. I bet I should not run" and then I started running, pushing our massive stroller and startled babies in a DANGER! DANGER! kind of way. And then the cows started running too.

When cows run, the earth shakes. And their beastly hooves go CALLUMP! CALLOMP! And did I mention that these cows were sporting horns?

I ran until I could not run anymore. It is not easy to maintain a sprint while wearing Birkenstocks and pushing a double stroller down a bumpy dirt road and constantly looking over your shoulder to see if one of the Cows of Doom has broken through the fence yet to recreate the running of the bulls here in my very own neighborhood.

And all I can keep thinking is "I'm lactating too, bitch" like that really matters but it's the only thing I can think of that me and these cows have in common and perhaps we should all just go about our day in a peaceful manner and GOD are they lucky I don't have my hammer with me.

But then we have passed by them and hammer or no hammer, we're all safe and intact.

And don't you go thinking that I then was so shook-up that I turned us all around and retreated home. No sirree. Cause that would have meant doubling back past the Cows of Doom and Hell Fire and Poisonous Rattlesnake Venom all over again and NO WAY was I about to do that.

No, we took a nice long walk. Nice and long with fresh air and sunshine and the knowledge that those cows would have to go back inside sometime. And they did. And we went home.

Incidentally, I'm taking the babies for walk in just a couple minutes. Coming with us? My trusty little hammer.


Anonymous said...

April! You make me laugh! This is Kris by the way (of Bri, Kris, and Stella)... I take Stella for a walk every day, although the term "walk" is being used loosely, as this "walk" is around the circle in my neighborhood twice (twice because it takes longer, and also because I turn around once I get to the other side of the circle as opposed to taking my precious child-in-stroller along the very busy extremely short stretch of Mountain Road that connects both ends of our circle, but I digress..). My neighbor the other day said "Are you trying to wear a path? ha ha" and I said "Ha ha" but was secretly a bit angered. So let me explain. I have tried walking outside of my little safe neighborhood, but people have dogs whom they think are lovely and peaceful creatures, but when these dogs come running at me, I go weak in the knees, and can barely contain my urge to scream hysterically. If I had my way, it would be a federal offense to let you "friendly" dog leave your property. I mean come on! Why is it my responsibility to maintain my composure and know what to do when your dog comes running at me?? So, Stella and I leave our house every day, walk around the circle, then walk back, and then sometimes do it all over again... Maybe I'll venture out further and bring a hammer - it's not a bad idea...

Deb said...

Okay. That was funny. Wicked funny. And I did sit here in the office crying from laughing. And how come you didn't mention the donkey? Guess I better buy you some Mace which I always carry with me when walking the twins. Funniest post ever !

Daryl said...

I am thinking you need a carpenter's belt so you can hang that hammer on one of the hooks/thingies that tools hang on/off .. imagine how cool and scary you'll look ...

NiNi Bambini said...

Holy Cow!

amazingk8 said...

That made me laugh. And I'm left thinkging - would a hammer do much to deter a cow?