Stupid Mouse

My life is on hold. A couple of weeks ago I left my laundry room door open and Bob flipped out. Then, THEN he told me that he saw something scatter in there when he went in the other day. Okay, I could have happened upon this thing without any warning and I cannot begin to explain the series of events that would follow something like that. I believe there are some references in the Book of Revelations.

So from that point on, I knocked on the door before entering. I can't get anyone in my house to check and see if the bathroom is occupied, or if I'm dressed before entering a room, but for the mouse? We knock. Far be it for us to be rude and interrupt a nice meal. Bob put out glue traps. For about 3 days the traps were empty and we thought maybe it had been a spider. I'm not going to lie, it looked like something prehistoric to me, but I once thought a rat the size of my fist was the size of a jackrabbit so there you go.

Saturday morning, at 6am, Bob woke me up saying "I got it!". I knew immediately of course because my entire life had been focused on the demise of this rodent. He took the thing, put it in the trash and stuck it in the polycart. We figured with the heat and lack of air in there, it would suffocate for sure.

Bob came home that afternoon, and went to check and the sonofabitch was loose from the trap. I guess the heat melted the glue. I don't know. But I do know that a blade of grass hit my ankle and I screamed like a banshee causing every dog in the neighborhod to go on high alert. I also may have wet myself but I'm not sure. We stood in the yard looking at each other, wondering what to do about this. I wanted it gone, out of the damn neighborhood. My mom said to throw it over the fence. Again, I don't think so. I don't want that thing running back to the mouse bar telling all it's friends that it knows of a good place to get a bite to eat, and if you get caught, the old lady lets you go. I'll have every mouse in town up in here.

So yesterday morning I asked Bob to please get me something out of the laundry room. He laughed at me, said "the mouse is gone" and I told him that you never know, I was still a little jumpy. He opened the door, shut the door, and said "oops". Yeah, there was another one stuck on a damn trap. Well you know what this means. There's a nest! There is a nest of mice in MY laundry room. I swear if I could afford it I would leave this rodent hotel and check into the new LaQuinta. My mother in law offered to let me stay with her but hell, she's got a mouse too. And her mouse comes out to watch The View and drink coffee with her every damn morning!

So, I'm not proud to say that Bob took the mouse and put it in a bag and ran over it with the car. We're sending out a message to the mouse community that they are not welcome here. I can just see somebody coming to look at the house, fall in love with the kitchen cabinets and open the damn laundry room door to see some sort of mouse kegger going down in the dog food bin.

I realize that to some people, a mouse problem is minor. But for me, this is catastrophic. This is like being thrown into the polar bear cage at the zoo with a steak tied around my waist. This is baaaaad. This is so very baaaaad. I am terrified of mice, and I don't care if they are afraid of me because they can run and hide. I can't hide. Where the hell am I going to hide? I can't crush my bones and run under a baseboard. I'm lucky if I can hide in a closet. Which I would not do around here because it's dark and MICE LOVE THE DARK. I am afraid to reach into the cabinets. I sent my 4 yr old to get toilet paper out from under the bathroom sink because I was afraid to. I flip out and lose my mind if the back door is open. I can't handle a mouse.

So what do we do? We have a rat terrier, but she's afraid of the dark and she's so spoiled that unless it had a nice Pesto sauce on it she's not touching it. I would get a cat, but I hate cats. The cat would have to live in that room because I don't want it running around my house or God forbid dropping a dead mouse on my lap. Oh my Lord I just now thought of that one. Screw the cat idea. What kind of traps do we get? Humane ones? No I want them gone. The glue? That's just nasty (I mistook a piece of paper for a mouse foot this morning. I made my friend Andy get my vaccum out for me). I like the idea of that stuff that they eat and die and then turn to dust with no smell. I don't want to happen upon any skeletons or a family in there if we ever sell this damn house (don't get me started) and move everything out of there. I'm not a mean person, I have compassion, I don't want them to be scared. If I was sending them back a little fear would be ok because if it went back with a limp and told the other mice that I'm a psycho then they would all stay away.

And I realize that the chances of there being a little burger joint for mice is not likely. But I've seen enough Disney movies to feel like it's not wise to rule it out 100%.

So for now, we will continue to knock on the door before we go in. Or Bob will because I'm never stepping foot in there again. When I think of all the rummaging I did before I knew about this, and all the times that one could have scuttered over my hand I just have little heart attacks. Hopefully the varmint man will come and rid us of this curse. Because nothing says "buy my house" like the Rid o' Rat truck parked out front.

6 Years Ago Today

I gave up trying to sleep at about 3:30am and took a shower. I had a little talk with Jack and with God, just making sure we were all three on the same page, that we all three wanted things to go well. I woke Bob up at around 4am after I had some time alone. I didn't really talk much, I was very focused and there wasn't much to say. This is unusual for me because I am not a fan of silence. I told the dogs goodbye while Bob loaded my stuff up in the car. It was still dark outside and I sort of looked around. I can't really explain how I felt but it was something.

We got to the birthing center at 5:30am when it was still dark outside, again I didn't talk much on the way there. When we got to the room, they started getting me all ready. I was hooked up to the heart monitor and I could hear him in there swooshing. I got the IV's and I filled out all the paperwork. I tried to get a minute to talk to Bob, but things went so fast. For some reason I thought that I might need something to occupy my time while I was in the hospital. Yeah. Right. The anesthesiologist came in to give me my epidural before the surgery. I was on my side and I felt the needle go in, when it did I dug into Bob's hand, I believe there is a scar there to this day in fact. I felt something go "POP" in my lower back. After that he told me that he couldn't do an epi so he was going to have to put me to sleep. Finally I showed some emotion. I wasn't happy, I was crying, I was nearly hysterical. My mom wasn't there, I hadn't had a chance to talk to Bob and now I was going to be unconcious? Things really flew then, and I was being wheeled down the hall towards the OR, I kept saying "wait, wait, wait" and finally I said "WAIT!" They stopped and I grabbed Bob's hand and told him that I loved him and that if anything happened he needed to let Jack know that I loved him more than life itself. As I was rolled away, I told thanked the nurse for giving me a minute because how horrible would it be if my last words were "wait"? That would suck.

The next thing I remembered was waking up and seeing a clock on the wall. I had totally forgotten what I was there for apparently, but I would soon remember when the evil lady started pushing on my stomach. I smacked her hand away and she told me that she had to do it, I informed her that she should have done it 5 minutes earlier when I was still asleep. Geez. Then I remembered I had a baby! I asked about him and they told me that he was perfect, I then asked how big he was. I remembered that I had an 11lbs baby. Bob came walking through, bouncing actually and I said his name. He remembered that I was there, and I asked him how Jack was and I will never forget the look on his face, or the sound of his voice when he said "he's so perfect baby, he's awesome". When I think about that I cry to this day. Because my stoic husband was a smitten kitten.

At some point, after being left alone forever, they brought in a bundle of blankets. They showed me Jack and I said "that's not my baby, my baby is BIG". He was tiny, and he was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on. I was drunk as all get out, and I hurt like nobodies business, but I knew perfection when I saw it. I held him, and he grunted. I never put him down after that. Only when they made me. He slept on the bed with me, all bundled up in his blankets with his binky from home that we had brought going 90mph in his mouth. The day is fuzzy, but I do remember the moment that changed it all.

At one point, they came and got him from me to do whatever tests. I dozed off, and when I opened my eyes he was laying in front of my bed, in his bassinet, on his side. He had on the hat, he was wrapped up and he was sucking on that binky like his life depended on it. He looked my right in the eye (or it seemed, Darvocet is goooood stuff) and he stopped for a minute sucking on that thing. He looked at me as if to say "what?" then he started up again. It hit me at that moment, that I was his mom. I cried, and I woke Bob up to hand him to me. I sat there in the semi dark, while Bob snored and I stared at him and cried. I just loved him so much I couldn't stand it. It literally hurt my heart to look at him. He was just so amazing.

Bob woke up once that night, he asked me if I was ok, and I then if Jack was ok. I probably nodded yeah and went back to staring at him. I still do that sometimes, I look at him and my heart nearly stops. I get choked up and I think about how blessed I am to be his mom. Because he's a hell of a kid. He is everything I ever wanted in a little boy. He's funny, he's smart, he's happy. He finds everything good in the world and he laughs big when he laughs. He treats others with kindness and he always backs up the underdog. He never picks on other kids (besides his sister) and he never makes anyone feel bad. He tells me daily that he loves me and that I'm the best mom in the world. When he hugs me, he holds on like he never wants to let go. He's a daddy's boy, but he loves his mom. And his mom loves him.

6 Years Ago (pt.4)

It was the day before Jack's expected arrival, which happened to also be Memorial Day. I had been in bed for nearly a week, and I was going nutso. I had things to do, I wanted the house to be perfectly clean and I wanted all the laundry done. I also needed a baby book. Bob was working, so I was home alone with my thoughts. I called my mother and asked her to come and take me to the mall to get a baby book. I had thought of everything you can imagine up to this point, but not that book.

She took me, and I walked. I just wanted to be out and about, I was feeling good and I didn't want to go back home. When I did get back, I walked around the house and looked at every inch of it. I was not only looking for dirt, I was thinking that this was the last day that our home would be child free. I was thinking about how some day he would be running around here, and locking himself in his bedroom. I was thinking about how one day I would call to him to turn whatever was loud down. Then I cried, because from the day I found out I was pregnant with him, I was terrified that he would be taken away from me, and here I was less than 24 hours away from seeing him.

That evening, my cousin and his wife came by with some gifts and Bob came home with a load of stuff from his co-workers. More stuff to put away! After they left, Bob and I decided to go to dinner, one last time as a childless couple. We sat in the restaurant, and it was later than usual. It was very quiet and very relaxing. I cannot remember exactly what we talked about, but I remember I had butterflies in my tummy and I was very nervous. We went home, and decided that since we had to be up at 4am to be at the hospital by 5:30am, we should just go to bed.

I layed in bed with my mind racing. I moved my head to the foot of the bed and tried that, but I couldn't sleep. I would wake up every few minutes and smile, or cry. Meanwhile, over on the other side of the bed, Mr. Cool was sawing logs. Throughout our entire pregnancy, Bob never showed so much as a slight indication that he was anything but cool and laid back, not a care in the world. However, the next day I would see a completely different person.

to be continued...

6 Years Ago (pt.3)

I realize I put one year ago on my last post. It's been a rough week.

On the Saturday before I am scheduled for a c/section to have Jack the following Tuesday, it was hot outside and it was Memorial Day weekend. Which is family reunion weekend. Obviously I didn't go, instead I layed in bed and read, and drank water. I was trying to keep that big headed baby in for 3 more days! Bob was working and I was home alone. My Nana came by on her way home from the reunion, and I opened the door wearing my green nightgown (that I wore at the hospital with both of my babies), and apparently I looked hideous because when she saw me she said "oh my gosh, you look so swollen, are you ok?" I wanted to cry because, no, I wasn't ok. I was about to have a baby with an abnormally large head. He was going to be huge. I may or may not have anything to bring him home in because the only clothes I had were up to 3 mths and he was obviously going to be wearing a 2T home. My imagination was slightly out of control, but I had nothing else to think about but this child.

She came in and we sat in the nice cool new a/c and she told me about the reunion. It was nice, she rarely comes by because she doesn't get into town often and I rarely get to spend time alone with her. And I was enjoying having something to distract me from my thoughts.

6 Years Ago (pt.2)

So I'm one week away from Jack's arrival. But I don't know that yet. My doctor came back into town, and I went for my appt. He looked at the reports, and he checks me to see if I'm anywhere near ready to have this humongous kid.

11lbs+. I started to cry. My nose at this point had doubled in size, my back hurt, my joints all felt disconnected as if preparing to stretch to unimaginable distances. I could no longer see my feet, and flip flops were my only choice in shoes. It was already hot, and it was mid May. I could feel him in there, kicking and rolling, that big head bumping into everything in it's way. 11 pounds plus. It was unimaginable.

The doctor says that he is concerned with my delivering such a large baby with my blood pressure being high and my blood sugar problems. I didn't have gestational diabetes, but I did have some problems that were similar, and my baby was seemingly as big as if I were. So he scheduled a cesarean for May 27th. One week! I had one week, and I was put on bedrest and told to stay off my feet and be very careful, drink lots of water, do not do anything to induce labor. He was taking him about a week early because of the size but he didn't want me to go into labor because again, my baby measured 11 pounds plus. Did I mention that?

My mom, my husband, my sister, they all told me not to worry and that a c/section was a piece of cake. It was about this time that they were installing our new air conditioning unit. Once I found out that he was coming sooner than expected, we rushed that along. So I spent my final week without a child laying in bed, sleeping, reading, doing word puzzles, talking on the phone. I had all the clothes washed, the nursery was ready for his arrival. The house had been remodeled (we were going to do that anyway, Jack was just our motivator to get it done). The baby shower gifts were all in their place, my bag was packed, Jack's bag was packed.

Bob and I had gone shopping the day we found out we were having a boy, and we bought a little blue two piece outfit with a hat. It was tiny, there was no way it was going to fit what I had imagined in my own head this kid was going to be. So I tried to find something bigger. I packed up the little blue outfit, and I packed the bigger outfit. I had diapers for days, itty bitty ones, that I just knew would be worthless, thank God I hadn't opened them. I would just take them back and get the bigger ones. I had bottles, receiving blankets, tons of socks! I was ready for this to happen.

to be continued...

Personality Theories

I just finished this semester, and personality theories kicked my tushie. I struggled week in and week out, reading the material and then not seeing anything I recognized on any quizzes. I have not struggled much since I went back to school, except for Algebra, I will always struggle with a math, but this class has been incredibly difficult.

Midterm I considered withdrawing from it, or maybe auditing the class so that when I took it next fall it might make more sense. I really thought that it would be an easy class, but I was waaaaay wrong. I pretty much had a low "D" in there at midterm time. I took my midterm late and I would have passed it if I hadn't had to take a 20 point penalty for taking it so late.

I took my final on Thu, and while all semester the material boggled my feeble little mind, the exam was all about putting the theories to use. I realized when I took that exam that I learned something this semester! I might not be able to tell you which psychoanalyst subscribed to which specific theory, but I can tell you everything when stated in practice. I can even analyze my friends! I'm a blast at parties!

I pulled my grade up to a "B". I would have been thrilled with a "C". So there goes my 4.0, but I'm still all up in the honor society and that's cool with me. I am now planning a ceremony to burn this book. S'mores for everyone!