Can't Touch This

I learned over the years that sometimes some things are better left unsaid. Such things might include opinions on controversial subjects, what you really think of your friend’s terrible new hairdo and most definitely dramatic “I’ve had it!” statements.

Like my mom always says “Shhhh. Don’t say that out loud!”

I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut when dealt a pair of aces during online poker. The more excitement and “woo hoo’s!” I show, the more I am guaranteed to lose.

When I worked as a police dispatcher, the word “quiet” was forbidden. If you had to make a comment about how quiet it was (which was rare), you had to say “Q”. If you said the word “quiet” all hell broke loose. I’ve seen it happen.

Yesterday I decided that I needed a break. I just needed a couple of hours of peace and “Q” to bubble bath with my large stack of unread tabloids and maybe even take a nap.

The hubby was at work. I had dropped off Oldest Daughter at work and I had already made a crack of dawn run to drop off Middle Daughter at a Senior High School cheerleading competition an hour away.

I don’t normally stay and watch cheerleading competitions because my daughters are flyers and get tossed around in the air.

Their motto might be “gravity is not an option” but mom knows it is and it makes me very uncomfortable to watch. Especially after last year when I watched a stunt go bad and my daughter emerged from a pile of blue and white ribboned cheerleaders with a broken wrist.

That left me with the two youngest kids, 13 and 12, who are more than capable of entertaining themselves without bugging me for a few hours.

“No rides to the mall, no rides to the movies”, I continued my list, “no picking up friends and no bothering mom for two hours unless you need an emergency room. I really need a break”.

Yes, SHHHHHH, don’t say that out loud did pop into my head for a fleeting moment.

Deal made and I decided to curl up in bed with a stack of magazines for a while. Nap first, bubble bath afterward. It was a plan!

I had barely closed my eyes when the phone rang.

“Mrs. Rock Chick?” the called asked.

I knew it was trouble. Nobody who ever calls me "Mrs. Rock Chick" is a bearer of good news.

It seemed that during Middle Daughters cheerleading competition, she mislanded her toe touch. In the grand scheme of all things cheerleader, this isn’t particularly a dangerous move. If you aren’t a cheerleader, toe touches look like this.



You’re supposed to land on the soles of your feet and not on your inner ankle like Middle Daughter did.

OUCH!

“I’ll be right there!” I said and made the hour trek to retrieve my injured baby.

After spending the rest of the afternoon with my favorite Emergency Room doctors, it was determined that nothing was broken, it’s just a really bad sprain. With an ace bandage, an air cast, some motrin and crutches (which don’t come in pink in case you were wondering) we were sent on our way.

In the car on the way home, my daughter was actually happy this happened because now she is excused from gym and she was to start swimming lessons. She does enjoy water parks and things like that, but she will not tread into water that's over her head for anything.

I reminded her that she will have to learn to swim eventually. Passing the swimming test in gym class is a high school graduation requirement.

“That’s stupid,”, she said, “It’s not like I’m ever going to fall off a boat or something.”

“SHHHHHH!”, I replied (sounding just like my mother) “Don’t say something like that out loud!”

Kids. (Ok, moms sometimes too!)