The Mouse Man Cometh

Mr. Exterminator just left.  Soon my mouse problem will be over.  I have mixed feelings about the methods he is using, although at this point I just want this infestation to be GONE and have very little compassion left.  Sorry, PETA.  This mouse messed with the wrong lady.

Mr. Exterminator placed traps with poison all over my garage.  Oh my.  I had hoped he would just catch them somehow and take them away.  Poison means they will suffer.  Should I feel more guilty than I do?  He said once I find green poop it won’t be long before they are dead.  Now I am REALLY grossed out!  Not only that, but I potentially will have DEAD MICE in my garage in about a week.    

And don’t get me started on the poop.  My garage is a MESS.  I am finding it EVERYWHERE.  On top of my hot water heater, in a case of drinks, on a pair of shoes.  I even found an empty bag from Kraft Mac’N'Cheese on a shelf, with poop in the bag.  The little booger had carried the bag up onto my shelf and crawled inside for a snack.  YECK!!!

Unclean!!! Unclean!!! and other updates…

 

Want to freak out a germophobe?  Give her mice AND toxic black mold in the same week.  I am SO about to freak out.  I feel the need to steam clean EVERY.THING. I own.  What a week it has been!

Let’s rewind to the start of the week.  We had an exhausting day at church last Sunday due to the infamous pink sticker incident.  That had a happy ending though, and I am very pleased with how the staff handled the situation.  In fact, I now have even MORE respect for the individual involved!  

I had a feeling today might not be a good day…

As I was getting ready for church this morning I began to have an uneasy feeling in my stomach that something bad was going to happen.  I don’t get these very often, but when I do I am rarely wrong.  The feeling grew.  Then as I walked down the steps I heard my almost 4-year-old say out of the blue, “I don’t like Mommy anymore.” 

I was stopped dead in my tracks.  Did I hear that right?  “What did you say?”  He repeated it AGAIN.  “WHY?”  I asked.  “Because you make loud sounds,” he replied, and my heart broke into a million pieces.

By “loud sounds” my son means yelling.  Yep.  Sometimes I yell.  I don’t want to.  But sometimes I get so tired and frustrated and I just, just… GAAHHH!  I hate it when I get like that.  (See The Mom I Do Not Want to Be)  And now to see that it has changed my son’s opinion of me makes me feel awful.  Truly awful.  I went to church with a sinking heart, eager for wisdom and comfort.

I wish I could say that the day got better from there.

Six Unspectacular Quirks

My bloggy friend Mama Mara  from Mama on the Edge recently tagged me to do a meme.  When I say “recently”, that is a relative term.  It was probably over a month ago.  I am bad like that.  Anyway, the meme is Six Unspectacular Quirks.  Mama’s so savvy that she suspected I may be slightly quirky. 

Here’s the rules:  
1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Mention the rules on your blog.
3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks you possess.
4. Tag 6 bloggers & link to them.
5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged.

All of my quirks are pretty spectacular, but I will try and not be too exciting.

1.  My second toe is longer than my big toe on my left foot .  My big toe is also shorter than normal.  It’s like God took a piece of my big toe and used it to enhance my second toe.  That’s not quirky, I know, it’s just plain freaky.  My husband calls it my “Freak Toe”.  The quirky part is that I can pick up things using my feet, actually grasping items in between my toes.  My freak toe comes in quite handy.  It’s almost like having an extra opposable thumb, except not so opposable, but still…

Busy, Busy, Busy

Well, life sure has swept me off my feet lately, or at least kept ‘em moving. I have a LOT of activity going on, but so far am handling it pretty well! Although I still haven’t finished unpacking from the beach…

Last week Thomas started back at preschool. I had prepared his teacher for his anxiety, and warned her that sometimes he is genuinely scared, but sometimes just manipulative (he says, “I’m scared!” when he doesn’t get his way). I also warned her about his sensory issues, aversion to being dirty, how he won’t do finger paint, etc. I asked her to please CHALLENGE him to overcome his fears while also being sensitive. Tricky! As school approached he got increasingly anxious and told me, “Mommy, please don’t leave me all by myself at school!” I remained positive for him, even though my heart ached, and thankfully there were minimal tears at dropoff the first day. Later at pickup I braced myself, only to hear, “He was my star student!” The teacher said he listened (what? whose child is THAT?), he was the line leader (it was a TRAIN!), and he even did a HANDPRINT!! Last year he refused to do the handprint. I was thrilled! He has LOVED school every day since then, and when asked who his friends were at school he named 2 buddies AND his teacher.

I had FUN at the beach!

I just got back from a long weekend at the beach, and I had fun!  Some of you may be thinking, “Well, DUH!” but to me this is a big deal.  Last year when we took a family trip there it was almost more work than fun.  This year we had a blast, and it was relatively drama-free!

Let’s rewind to a year ago.  My youngest was still drinking from a bottle, sometimes still taking 2 naps a day, and both he and his older brother were still in diapers.  Things were further complicated by the fact that one child was overly fascinated by the sand, the other terrified by it.  Percy sat and ate sand by the handfuls, while his poor older brother Thomas wandered around, crying, trying to walk without his feet actually touching the sand, muttering to himself, “Dirty, dirty…”  

Jellyfish in the Baby Pool

My family just returned from a 4-day weekend at the beach.  Aside from the jellyfish in the baby pool we all had a wonderful time.  “Jellyfish in the BABY POOL???!!”  you say, ”WHAT sort of nonsense is that?”    I KNOW!  Some dad brought a jellyfish into the baby pool as a toy for his son.  Who DOES that?!?  There’s a metaphor in there, I just know it.