This morning I was headed downstairs to start a load of laundry, and at the bottom of the steps, I saw a spider so big, its’ feet were in 2 different zip codes. It was just sitting there, but as any girly-girl knows, that spider had mapped out a plan of attack on how to come get me, my little mice and all the food in my pantry.
Of course DM was at school, so I was left to fend for myself against Godzilla the spider. But there was NO WAY I was going to swat that thing with a newspaper or even try and trap it under something… and you can better believe I was not about to just leave it. (Because we all know it would have made its’ spidery way up the stairs, down the hall and into my bedroom and pounced on me in my sleep!)
I pull up my big girl panties and head to the garage for the Wasp and Hornet spray. I mean, they all have lots of legs, it’s got to work, right? Godzilla doesn’t have a chance against me, armed with my spray. I put my game face on and slink silently down the stairs. I’m sure he hasn’t spotted me so I get ready, aim and FIRE! I hit him on the first try with a stream of toxic gas. He darts towards me, seemingly unfazed by my battle tactics. I scream like a little girl and jump up two steps and he settles under the lip of the bottom step. (I told you he was after me…)
But knowing I have to save my precious mice from the ferocious predator, I take a leap onto the floor, landing well past the spider (I should have been on the long jump team in high school!) I regroup, line up my target and “pssssssssssshhhhhhhhh.” Bullseye! I got him! He’s slowly crawling towards me as his spidery legs are getting slower and starting to curl up, this guy’s a fighter! One more spray and he’s a goner.
Poor guy, if he had only been a little smaller, I would have scooped him up in the dustpan and set him outside my back door.
9.30.2008
9.27.2008
The Greatest of these is Love
I could not love my little mice any more. Every day they both amaze me.
LM is quite serious and nothing phases her. She's just quiet and very observant- twice today, I completely forgot she was even with me. (Don't worry, I didn't leave her anywhere.) But if you pay her the slightest bit of attention, her face lights up with a 100-watt smile and she's cooing and laughing, and you are the center of her world. (Doesn't matter who you are, MM and the guy bagging my groceries get the same reaction. Should I be jealous? Nah...) She is such a sweet little soul and the best surprise I've ever received. Sometimes the best things in life are those you didn't expect. Every day she is with me is a miracle, as she reveals a little more about herself and I really enjoy just getting to know her.
BigM is the opposite of serious- and everything is a new and exciting adventure. She is anything but quiet, but she doesn't miss a thing either. And even if I wanted to forget she was there, her constant and quirky chatter reminds me she's never too far for a hug and a kiss. She is stubborn and loving. She tests me daily (hourly?!?) I could not be more proud of the little girl she has become, but I also feel a sense of loss that she is no longer a baby. Tonight as I was putting her to bed, she impulsively grabbed me for a hug and said, "I love you, Mama."
Those are the kind of moments I live for. A few nights ago, we were rocking in the rocking chair before bed, and I was thinking she's getting a little too big for this (size wise, really, she's the tallest 2yo I've ever seen...) and at the same time thinking I'd cuddle her when she's 13, 23 or 33 if she'd let me. I asked her for a hug, saying, "Some day you won't want to hug me." She looked up at me with these big eyes, as if I had told her there was no more ice cream on earth. She just couldn't fathom that possibility. What age is it that your children start to realize you're not perfect, that you're a human and you do make mistakes? I really don't want to know.
What I do know is I am so blessed and so thankful that I am in a position where I can stay home with my little mice. I get to cherish every smile, every hug and even every "time out." Despite the chaos and the craziness and the fact that it's been more than 2 years since I went potty by myself, there is no place on earth I'd rather be than right here, right now.
LM is quite serious and nothing phases her. She's just quiet and very observant- twice today, I completely forgot she was even with me. (Don't worry, I didn't leave her anywhere.) But if you pay her the slightest bit of attention, her face lights up with a 100-watt smile and she's cooing and laughing, and you are the center of her world. (Doesn't matter who you are, MM and the guy bagging my groceries get the same reaction. Should I be jealous? Nah...) She is such a sweet little soul and the best surprise I've ever received. Sometimes the best things in life are those you didn't expect. Every day she is with me is a miracle, as she reveals a little more about herself and I really enjoy just getting to know her.
BigM is the opposite of serious- and everything is a new and exciting adventure. She is anything but quiet, but she doesn't miss a thing either. And even if I wanted to forget she was there, her constant and quirky chatter reminds me she's never too far for a hug and a kiss. She is stubborn and loving. She tests me daily (hourly?!?) I could not be more proud of the little girl she has become, but I also feel a sense of loss that she is no longer a baby. Tonight as I was putting her to bed, she impulsively grabbed me for a hug and said, "I love you, Mama."
Those are the kind of moments I live for. A few nights ago, we were rocking in the rocking chair before bed, and I was thinking she's getting a little too big for this (size wise, really, she's the tallest 2yo I've ever seen...) and at the same time thinking I'd cuddle her when she's 13, 23 or 33 if she'd let me. I asked her for a hug, saying, "Some day you won't want to hug me." She looked up at me with these big eyes, as if I had told her there was no more ice cream on earth. She just couldn't fathom that possibility. What age is it that your children start to realize you're not perfect, that you're a human and you do make mistakes? I really don't want to know.
What I do know is I am so blessed and so thankful that I am in a position where I can stay home with my little mice. I get to cherish every smile, every hug and even every "time out." Despite the chaos and the craziness and the fact that it's been more than 2 years since I went potty by myself, there is no place on earth I'd rather be than right here, right now.
9.24.2008
Oh what a night...
Late September...
I'm such a dork.
Anyway, yesterday could have been one of the most trying days of my life. It started out much like any other day, I got the mice up- we watched the Wiggles, got dressed, ater breakfast and loaded up the car to take BigM to preschool. We normally leave early and I take the kids jogging but yesterday was Picture Day, so I dressed BigM up in her finest mousy clothes and decided to forgo the jogging until after I dropped her off.
Well, about that time LM wanted to eat (still right on schedule, mind you) so we headed to the "nervous room" (as BigM calls the nursing room at our church) and settled in. I had a big morning of cleaning and "getting things done", and I was fired up and ready to go (after my short, quiet little 3 mile jog, of course. I live for my morning jog, by the way.) It's a lot easier without BigM pointing at every single thing we pass and asking, "Mommy, what's that?" (Your obvious answers include: the road, a rock, a tree, a person, her shoe, a squirrel, a piece of trash, a bench, a leaf, the sky...)
So back to the subject at hand. My phone starts ringing and I see it's DM. DM is a dental student and his patient canceled, so he wanted to know if I could find someone to watch LM to let him clean my teeth. Done. (I'm such a good wife!) I get my teeth cleaned, 12 x-rays, 8 sealents, a head & neck exam and a lecture about how I don't floss enough, oh and a new toothbrush.
When I pick up LM, it's time for her to eat again and we're headed back to the nervous room at church. We get BigM and I see her finest mousy clothes are covered in yogurt, dirt and something blue... and there is a note in her bag that says, "Don't forget Thursday is Picture Day!" (I just looked at her calendar and it DOES say Picture Day was yesterday, so I'm not suffering totally from Mommy Brain.) We head home (on the way, BigM takes off her shoe and dumps sand all over the floor of my car and in her carseat) and start a load of laundry (with my workout pants) bc I'm teaching a spin class that night at 5:15. BigM does not nap (and goes poo for the 4th time that day...) so we do a little project and load up the car a little early so we can stop for gas on the way there. I'm down to 1/14,230,989,507,289,463 of a tank and frankly, a little worried that I'm not going to make it there. I pass the close station where gas is $.20 more expensive than the place I usually stop. Not happening. So I pass another station and all the pumps are bagged off. This does not look good. I get to my regular station and see a parking attendant lining cones up at the entrances and starting to bag off the pumps there too. G-rrrr-eeee-aaaaaaaa-ttt... so I keep heading towards the gym. I pass 3 more gas stations and not a one has gas. We'll just worry about that later, I guessed.
I pull into the parking lot (which is directly across from DM's school) so he can meet me to grab the girls. It's 4:57 and I am at least 10 mins early. At this point, BigM is distraught- why, you ask. Well when you're 2, anything from MM not rolling down your window to having to stay in your carseat while you wait for your DM can cause utter chaos and fire-engine wailing tears. As I'm watching the minutes roll by (it's now 5:08), I'm listening to the noise in my backseat getting louder. 5:15 comes and goes, then 5:20 and finally at 5:23 I get DM on the phone. He's sprinting from clinic to my car so as soon as he's in view, I jump out and sprint into my class. It's only a full 15 mins after it was supposed to start... oh, well, right? What can you do?
DM and I had made plans to eat a quick dinner after my class and before his weekly Bible Study, so I head back to the parking lot. BigM has calmed down considerably and LM is hanging in the stroller. Seems to be a pretty good scenario. We even watch a rousing rendition of "Ring-around-the-Rosy" in the grass, complete with a dramatic "we all fall down!" Since class started late, I finished it late and we have 30 mins to get gas, eat and get back to DM's car so he can be at Bible Study by 7. We head to the closest station, praying the whole time that the fumes in my car will get us there. Same old story, bagged pumps. Head down the road to the next 2 stations. No gas anywhere. BigM and LM are both getting hungry, so both they decide to tell us all about it- BigM by throwing a full blown tantrum and LM by screaming incessantly (but who can blame her, crying is all she knows how to do.) We finally drive 15 miles down the road to the closest truck stop and while there is a 6 car line, they do have gas. And a Wendy's.
After getting gas, we drive thru and I try to be a good MM and instead of fries, I get BigM a yogurt tube which was a good idea bc she said, "Mommy, I so cited!" At this point it's 6:54 and we're headed back to where we came from for me to drop DM off at Bible Study. The phone calls start rolling in, "Dude, where are you?" "Hey, man, you coming tonight?" I mean, it's 7:06 for goodness sake. (LM is still wailing, I might add. BigM is surprisingly quiet, but give that girl a cheeseburger and she's happy. She takes after her mother.) We roll into the driveway and DM jumps out and I jump out to grab LM and let her nurse, in the car in the driveway of a well traveled neighborhood. I do have incredibly sweaty boobs (please don't call those people to come take my kids) but she's finally satisfied.
I had ignored a call from my mom when I was trying to get out the door (please don't be mad, Mom, I just didn't have time to talk) so I called her back and we're chatting away when all of the sudden, I hear "pswwwwww" and feel something sprinkle my arm. BigM has taken a huge sip of yogurt and decided to spit it all over me, herself, her carseat, the back of the front seats and the majority of the back of the car. In my house, spitting is taboo. Some people think it's cute, but I am not one of those people. So I put the phone down, say in my very sternest voice, "BIG MOUSE, NO SPITTING" (while trying not to laugh, bc at this point, everything has become comical.) I pick the phone back up and my mother (who firmly believes her grandchildren should be allowed to run around like wild indians and show no respect to authority) says to me, "So now you won't even let her sit down?" Luckily, we both got a good laugh out of that.
It's time to head home and as I pull into the carport, I see BigM has fallen asleep with her yogurt tube in her mouth. It's too hilarious for words, so I whip out the camera phone but her arm falls down before I can take the picture. (I won't lie, I tried to set her arm back up a few times but it kept falling down.) So I get both sleeping girls out of the car and headed to the bath. (There is no way they're both not getting hosed down.) The rest of the evening was completely uneventful and despite her 9 1/2 minute nap in the car, BigM went straight to bed. I only wish I could have done the same.
I'm such a dork.
Anyway, yesterday could have been one of the most trying days of my life. It started out much like any other day, I got the mice up- we watched the Wiggles, got dressed, ater breakfast and loaded up the car to take BigM to preschool. We normally leave early and I take the kids jogging but yesterday was Picture Day, so I dressed BigM up in her finest mousy clothes and decided to forgo the jogging until after I dropped her off.
Well, about that time LM wanted to eat (still right on schedule, mind you) so we headed to the "nervous room" (as BigM calls the nursing room at our church) and settled in. I had a big morning of cleaning and "getting things done", and I was fired up and ready to go (after my short, quiet little 3 mile jog, of course. I live for my morning jog, by the way.) It's a lot easier without BigM pointing at every single thing we pass and asking, "Mommy, what's that?" (Your obvious answers include: the road, a rock, a tree, a person, her shoe, a squirrel, a piece of trash, a bench, a leaf, the sky...)
So back to the subject at hand. My phone starts ringing and I see it's DM. DM is a dental student and his patient canceled, so he wanted to know if I could find someone to watch LM to let him clean my teeth. Done. (I'm such a good wife!) I get my teeth cleaned, 12 x-rays, 8 sealents, a head & neck exam and a lecture about how I don't floss enough, oh and a new toothbrush.
When I pick up LM, it's time for her to eat again and we're headed back to the nervous room at church. We get BigM and I see her finest mousy clothes are covered in yogurt, dirt and something blue... and there is a note in her bag that says, "Don't forget Thursday is Picture Day!" (I just looked at her calendar and it DOES say Picture Day was yesterday, so I'm not suffering totally from Mommy Brain.) We head home (on the way, BigM takes off her shoe and dumps sand all over the floor of my car and in her carseat) and start a load of laundry (with my workout pants) bc I'm teaching a spin class that night at 5:15. BigM does not nap (and goes poo for the 4th time that day...) so we do a little project and load up the car a little early so we can stop for gas on the way there. I'm down to 1/14,230,989,507,289,463 of a tank and frankly, a little worried that I'm not going to make it there. I pass the close station where gas is $.20 more expensive than the place I usually stop. Not happening. So I pass another station and all the pumps are bagged off. This does not look good. I get to my regular station and see a parking attendant lining cones up at the entrances and starting to bag off the pumps there too. G-rrrr-eeee-aaaaaaaa-ttt... so I keep heading towards the gym. I pass 3 more gas stations and not a one has gas. We'll just worry about that later, I guessed.
I pull into the parking lot (which is directly across from DM's school) so he can meet me to grab the girls. It's 4:57 and I am at least 10 mins early. At this point, BigM is distraught- why, you ask. Well when you're 2, anything from MM not rolling down your window to having to stay in your carseat while you wait for your DM can cause utter chaos and fire-engine wailing tears. As I'm watching the minutes roll by (it's now 5:08), I'm listening to the noise in my backseat getting louder. 5:15 comes and goes, then 5:20 and finally at 5:23 I get DM on the phone. He's sprinting from clinic to my car so as soon as he's in view, I jump out and sprint into my class. It's only a full 15 mins after it was supposed to start... oh, well, right? What can you do?
DM and I had made plans to eat a quick dinner after my class and before his weekly Bible Study, so I head back to the parking lot. BigM has calmed down considerably and LM is hanging in the stroller. Seems to be a pretty good scenario. We even watch a rousing rendition of "Ring-around-the-Rosy" in the grass, complete with a dramatic "we all fall down!" Since class started late, I finished it late and we have 30 mins to get gas, eat and get back to DM's car so he can be at Bible Study by 7. We head to the closest station, praying the whole time that the fumes in my car will get us there. Same old story, bagged pumps. Head down the road to the next 2 stations. No gas anywhere. BigM and LM are both getting hungry, so both they decide to tell us all about it- BigM by throwing a full blown tantrum and LM by screaming incessantly (but who can blame her, crying is all she knows how to do.) We finally drive 15 miles down the road to the closest truck stop and while there is a 6 car line, they do have gas. And a Wendy's.
After getting gas, we drive thru and I try to be a good MM and instead of fries, I get BigM a yogurt tube which was a good idea bc she said, "Mommy, I so cited!" At this point it's 6:54 and we're headed back to where we came from for me to drop DM off at Bible Study. The phone calls start rolling in, "Dude, where are you?" "Hey, man, you coming tonight?" I mean, it's 7:06 for goodness sake. (LM is still wailing, I might add. BigM is surprisingly quiet, but give that girl a cheeseburger and she's happy. She takes after her mother.) We roll into the driveway and DM jumps out and I jump out to grab LM and let her nurse, in the car in the driveway of a well traveled neighborhood. I do have incredibly sweaty boobs (please don't call those people to come take my kids) but she's finally satisfied.
I had ignored a call from my mom when I was trying to get out the door (please don't be mad, Mom, I just didn't have time to talk) so I called her back and we're chatting away when all of the sudden, I hear "pswwwwww" and feel something sprinkle my arm. BigM has taken a huge sip of yogurt and decided to spit it all over me, herself, her carseat, the back of the front seats and the majority of the back of the car. In my house, spitting is taboo. Some people think it's cute, but I am not one of those people. So I put the phone down, say in my very sternest voice, "BIG MOUSE, NO SPITTING" (while trying not to laugh, bc at this point, everything has become comical.) I pick the phone back up and my mother (who firmly believes her grandchildren should be allowed to run around like wild indians and show no respect to authority) says to me, "So now you won't even let her sit down?" Luckily, we both got a good laugh out of that.
It's time to head home and as I pull into the carport, I see BigM has fallen asleep with her yogurt tube in her mouth. It's too hilarious for words, so I whip out the camera phone but her arm falls down before I can take the picture. (I won't lie, I tried to set her arm back up a few times but it kept falling down.) So I get both sleeping girls out of the car and headed to the bath. (There is no way they're both not getting hosed down.) The rest of the evening was completely uneventful and despite her 9 1/2 minute nap in the car, BigM went straight to bed. I only wish I could have done the same.
9.22.2008
Mr. Wizard
I love the fact that BigM enjoys fishing with her daddy. We have a pond behind our house and they go out together maybe twice a month- but BigM just loves spending that time with DM. Yesterday was "fishin day" and they had a blast. BigM said, "I so 'cited, Daddy," and DM said it made his day. It would have made mine too.
So after it was all said and done, BigM came running inside with something in her hand... yelling, "Wook Mommy, I haf a wizard!" Not being an animal person, I look at DM completely alarmed until I realize he has given her some bait that only *looks* like a lizard (thank goodness.) While I'm fixin supper (even though I am in the deep south, that is the only appropriate use of the word fixin'- I don't think I've ever been "fixin'" to do anything) BigM is tending to her wizard: "Tome on, wizard, you need to eat supper."
And, "I need to give you a bahff, wizard."
Or (my personal favorite,) "Want to sweep in my bed, wizard?"
Um, no, there will be no wizard sleeping in anyone's bed, real or pretend. Mr. Wizard spent the night on the bookshelf.
So after it was all said and done, BigM came running inside with something in her hand... yelling, "Wook Mommy, I haf a wizard!" Not being an animal person, I look at DM completely alarmed until I realize he has given her some bait that only *looks* like a lizard (thank goodness.) While I'm fixin supper (even though I am in the deep south, that is the only appropriate use of the word fixin'- I don't think I've ever been "fixin'" to do anything) BigM is tending to her wizard: "Tome on, wizard, you need to eat supper."
And, "I need to give you a bahff, wizard."
Or (my personal favorite,) "Want to sweep in my bed, wizard?"
Um, no, there will be no wizard sleeping in anyone's bed, real or pretend. Mr. Wizard spent the night on the bookshelf.
9.15.2008
LOL
LM giggled for the first time today. She also took her first nap in her crib this morning. I just don't want to forget.
9.10.2008
Here, Kitty-Kitty
I originally thought this blog was going to be about mice, but apparently, any animal is up for grabs. This collection of stories is in response to a friend's question about keeping her cat out of her newborn's crib, so it does have some mousy relevance.
So if you hadn't guessed from my enthusiasm about our rabbits, I'm not exactly an animal person. And I have to admit (this will upset some of you) that I'm especially not a cat person. I don't have anything against other people's felines, I just agree totally with my friend, Megan who firmly believes, "If a cat was big enough it would eat you." But the great thing in this world is we can disagree and still be friends. I don't have to like cats, we can all parent differently and it really doesn't matter if coke is better than diet coke if you're drinking the one you like.
So back to my love/hate relationship with cats. (Why can’t I stay on topic?) I got bitten by a cat on my honeymoon. Really. On a sweet potato farm in the smack dab middle of St. Lucia, a cat bit me. We were hiking towards the rainforest and I saw the cat over 100 yards away and I mentioned they weren’t my favorite animal and out of nowhere, it runs over to us and bites…me. So I consider myself very lucky that I am here to tell you about my mice. (Although nothing happened other than I had a small puncture wound on my leg, and it probably sounds a lot worse than it really was.)
As I mentioned before, our first house was a cute little rental on an 800 acre farm. Sassy Mouse (my mom) would disagree that it was cute. Anyway, our landlord’s mother lived in the house before we did and the only thing she left there was a lot of dust and her black cat, Shadow. Shadow lived in the house alone for a few months before we did, so as it was understood by the cat, the house was not ours, it belonged to her. Shadow did not like being evicted so she would patiently hide in the bushes until you came home and the second you opened the door, she would dart into the house and curl up on your bed. We nicknamed her "Satan," because if you came within a 3 foot radius of her, she would hiss and spit at you. If you got any closer (maybe to move her off the bed, heaven forbid you try to get her out of your/her house) you took a very good chance that she would scratch the fool out of your arm. Poor DM got bitten more times than you can count and I probably shouldn't tell you how many times DM kicked her, just because you are probably on the phone with the PETA people right now... but our landlord told him to.
After about a year of marriage, we decided to buy a house of our own and one of the most exciting things to me was moving into a cat free neighborhood. Not the case- in fact, it would not be a stretch to say our new neighborhood was infested with cats. While I’m sure this was not entirely true, all the cats were related- they all looked exactly the same. Two of them belonged to our neighbors across the street and one lived directly next door. And then there was “the one with the really small head,” who was the neighborhood bully cat and would literally beat up all the other cats. Almost nightly, there was a catfight outside our bedroom window. Now that’s a noise you don’t want to fall asleep to. One of (or all four of?) the cats must have been in cahoots with Sha… I mean, Satan because it (they?) regularly tried to sneak into our house. What is with cats wanting to sleep on my bed?!?!?!?
I have to mention at this point that DM is a pretty noisy sleeper. One weekend, DM and I went out of town and went straight to bed when we got home on Sunday. Around 4am, I heard this faint squeaking noise, but didn’t really think too much about it because I just assumed it was DM. It continued and I looked over at him and he was sound asleep. The noise kept getting louder and it began to sound a little more like a cat. I still thought it was DM, so I nudged him and he woke up to the sound of a very distinct, “Meow.” Meaning:
1. there was a cat spending the night in our house
2. that had been there since we had left 3 days earlier.
The only good news in this scenario is that I never found any evidence of kitty going to the bathroom in my house. There are no cats living in our current neighborhood, and I couldn't be happier.
So if you hadn't guessed from my enthusiasm about our rabbits, I'm not exactly an animal person. And I have to admit (this will upset some of you) that I'm especially not a cat person. I don't have anything against other people's felines, I just agree totally with my friend, Megan who firmly believes, "If a cat was big enough it would eat you." But the great thing in this world is we can disagree and still be friends. I don't have to like cats, we can all parent differently and it really doesn't matter if coke is better than diet coke if you're drinking the one you like.
So back to my love/hate relationship with cats. (Why can’t I stay on topic?) I got bitten by a cat on my honeymoon. Really. On a sweet potato farm in the smack dab middle of St. Lucia, a cat bit me. We were hiking towards the rainforest and I saw the cat over 100 yards away and I mentioned they weren’t my favorite animal and out of nowhere, it runs over to us and bites…me. So I consider myself very lucky that I am here to tell you about my mice. (Although nothing happened other than I had a small puncture wound on my leg, and it probably sounds a lot worse than it really was.)
As I mentioned before, our first house was a cute little rental on an 800 acre farm. Sassy Mouse (my mom) would disagree that it was cute. Anyway, our landlord’s mother lived in the house before we did and the only thing she left there was a lot of dust and her black cat, Shadow. Shadow lived in the house alone for a few months before we did, so as it was understood by the cat, the house was not ours, it belonged to her. Shadow did not like being evicted so she would patiently hide in the bushes until you came home and the second you opened the door, she would dart into the house and curl up on your bed. We nicknamed her "Satan," because if you came within a 3 foot radius of her, she would hiss and spit at you. If you got any closer (maybe to move her off the bed, heaven forbid you try to get her out of your/her house) you took a very good chance that she would scratch the fool out of your arm. Poor DM got bitten more times than you can count and I probably shouldn't tell you how many times DM kicked her, just because you are probably on the phone with the PETA people right now... but our landlord told him to.
After about a year of marriage, we decided to buy a house of our own and one of the most exciting things to me was moving into a cat free neighborhood. Not the case- in fact, it would not be a stretch to say our new neighborhood was infested with cats. While I’m sure this was not entirely true, all the cats were related- they all looked exactly the same. Two of them belonged to our neighbors across the street and one lived directly next door. And then there was “the one with the really small head,” who was the neighborhood bully cat and would literally beat up all the other cats. Almost nightly, there was a catfight outside our bedroom window. Now that’s a noise you don’t want to fall asleep to. One of (or all four of?) the cats must have been in cahoots with Sha… I mean, Satan because it (they?) regularly tried to sneak into our house. What is with cats wanting to sleep on my bed?!?!?!?
I have to mention at this point that DM is a pretty noisy sleeper. One weekend, DM and I went out of town and went straight to bed when we got home on Sunday. Around 4am, I heard this faint squeaking noise, but didn’t really think too much about it because I just assumed it was DM. It continued and I looked over at him and he was sound asleep. The noise kept getting louder and it began to sound a little more like a cat. I still thought it was DM, so I nudged him and he woke up to the sound of a very distinct, “Meow.” Meaning:
1. there was a cat spending the night in our house
2. that had been there since we had left 3 days earlier.
The only good news in this scenario is that I never found any evidence of kitty going to the bathroom in my house. There are no cats living in our current neighborhood, and I couldn't be happier.
9.04.2008
There were 2 in the bed and the little one said...
So... LM just rolled over, three times! And here I thought she was boring. I put her on her tummy and she was pushing up on her arms, and she just flipped right over. So I wasn't impressed, I mean, I helped her about 60% of the way on that one. So I put her back on her tummy but she was still propped up, and she did it again! Still not overly impressed- until I laid her flat on her stomach- she pushed herself up and next thing I know she's laying flat on her back! I think I'm the mother of the women's all-around Gold Medalist in 2024...
The Sweetest Thing
This morning, while I was watching the Wiggles with BigM (as we do every day,) she walked over to me and said, "Mama, tan I sit in yor wap?"
MM: "Of course you can, sweetheart."
BigM: "Tank you, Mama. I so proud uf you."
MM: "That's sweet, why are you proud of me?"
BigM: "Because I just wuv you."
Is there anything better?
MM: "Of course you can, sweetheart."
BigM: "Tank you, Mama. I so proud uf you."
MM: "That's sweet, why are you proud of me?"
BigM: "Because I just wuv you."
Is there anything better?
9.03.2008
Help, Not Just Any-bunny...
So I promised to finish the story about GB getting lost on the farm. Settle in.
Picture it: I'm wearing pajamas, my winter coat and some kind of inappropriate footwear (like I said, I'm not the best with details.) It's pitch black dark outside and we are looking for a small but very fast little animal. The expression is "quick like a bunny" for a reason.
For approximately 45 minutes, we walk around shining our almost dead single beam flashlight looking under anything we can think to look under. Another fact about bunnies is they like to sit beneath things. Finally, I decide that it's time for GB to learn about life as an undomesticated pet, when out of the corner of my eye, I see something white and gray dart under the shed behind our house. GB has been spotted! Again, using your imagination, picture a shed 15' x 15' raised about 9" off the ground. So it's too small for people to crawl under, but just right for a cute little rabbit (although if you still think she's cute at this point, we need to discuss if we can still be friends.) One side of the shed backs up to a fence and another one is closed off by a garden wall, so luckily we're dealing with only 2 escape routes. DM starts calling to GB as if she were a puppy dog- and as if she listened and responded to voice commands. I went inside and got a broom, which I used to coax her towards the edge of the shed. She would get within 8 inches of grabbing distance (just close enough to be annoying,) but when one of us would reach under the shed, she would dart back to the corner. After another 45 minutes of this business, DM finally suggested, "Why don't we get a carrot and tie it to the end of the broom and maybe she will come get it?" Can you hear me snorting with laughter now, even as I am remembering him saying that? But (now you will be snorting with laughter) we tried it because at that point, what did we have to lose?
2 1/2 hours have passed since DM discovered GB went out exploring on the farm. It is now after 1 in the morning, and I have to get up and be functional at work in mere hours, so I announce I've had it and I don't give a flip what happens to that waskily wabbit when all of the sudden, GB takes off into the yard. I'm hot on her tail, and close in with a tackle that would make even the greatest linebacker jealous. Victory is mine! GB is safely returned to her warm, cozy hutch and I am off to my warm, cozy bed.
Sometime soon, I'll have to tell you about our pet chickens.
Picture it: I'm wearing pajamas, my winter coat and some kind of inappropriate footwear (like I said, I'm not the best with details.) It's pitch black dark outside and we are looking for a small but very fast little animal. The expression is "quick like a bunny" for a reason.
For approximately 45 minutes, we walk around shining our almost dead single beam flashlight looking under anything we can think to look under. Another fact about bunnies is they like to sit beneath things. Finally, I decide that it's time for GB to learn about life as an undomesticated pet, when out of the corner of my eye, I see something white and gray dart under the shed behind our house. GB has been spotted! Again, using your imagination, picture a shed 15' x 15' raised about 9" off the ground. So it's too small for people to crawl under, but just right for a cute little rabbit (although if you still think she's cute at this point, we need to discuss if we can still be friends.) One side of the shed backs up to a fence and another one is closed off by a garden wall, so luckily we're dealing with only 2 escape routes. DM starts calling to GB as if she were a puppy dog- and as if she listened and responded to voice commands. I went inside and got a broom, which I used to coax her towards the edge of the shed. She would get within 8 inches of grabbing distance (just close enough to be annoying,) but when one of us would reach under the shed, she would dart back to the corner. After another 45 minutes of this business, DM finally suggested, "Why don't we get a carrot and tie it to the end of the broom and maybe she will come get it?" Can you hear me snorting with laughter now, even as I am remembering him saying that? But (now you will be snorting with laughter) we tried it because at that point, what did we have to lose?
2 1/2 hours have passed since DM discovered GB went out exploring on the farm. It is now after 1 in the morning, and I have to get up and be functional at work in mere hours, so I announce I've had it and I don't give a flip what happens to that waskily wabbit when all of the sudden, GB takes off into the yard. I'm hot on her tail, and close in with a tackle that would make even the greatest linebacker jealous. Victory is mine! GB is safely returned to her warm, cozy hutch and I am off to my warm, cozy bed.
Sometime soon, I'll have to tell you about our pet chickens.
9.02.2008
ABC, Easy as 1-2-3
Big Mouse (aka BigM- I cannot refer to my child as "BM") started preschool today. Well, I think it's preschool, she's 2 and it's a Mother's Day Out program at our church. Today started out like any other day, we got up and watched the Wiggles, got dressed and ate breakfast. But instead of going for a walk, we went out to the front porch and took a picture- I am totally "that mom." There really isn't much of a story here, but I just want to be able to remember "today." It's not the first time I have left her, she was in daycare for the first 18 months of her life, but for some reason this feels different. I have mixed emotions, as I am very excited to have some time to spend alone with Little Mouse (LM) and to actually have the opportunity to get housework done (not promising it will happen!) But at the same time, I am realizing my first "little mouse" is growing up, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that. Who is?
The highlight of the morning occured I opened the refrigerator to show BigM her ballerina hippopatomus lunchbox (who designs this stuff?) and she started giggling and couldn't stop.
BigM didn't even notice when I left her this morning. I suppose I should be happy that she is independent and excited about new experiences, but there is a teeny-tiny part of me that kind of wishes she would have pitched a hysterical fit like some of her classmates. Well, maybe not, but I can't wait for it to be 1:00. I may be the one with tears streaming down my face when we see each other in the pick-up line.
The highlight of the morning occured I opened the refrigerator to show BigM her ballerina hippopatomus lunchbox (who designs this stuff?) and she started giggling and couldn't stop.
BigM didn't even notice when I left her this morning. I suppose I should be happy that she is independent and excited about new experiences, but there is a teeny-tiny part of me that kind of wishes she would have pitched a hysterical fit like some of her classmates. Well, maybe not, but I can't wait for it to be 1:00. I may be the one with tears streaming down my face when we see each other in the pick-up line.
9.01.2008
Help, I Need Some-bunny...
Before we go any further, I need to tell you about our first "children."
DM and I had been married for about 2 months, living in Po-dunk, USA renting a house from a farmer who lived on 800 acres. We knew we didn’t want kids right away and loosely discussed getting some pets but I was working 50 – 60 hours a week and DM was in school full time, studying during his free time. I (logically?) didn’t think it would be fair to any animal (other than a fish, and who wants a goldfish over the age of 7) so I was under the impression we decided together that the timing wasn’t right. DM would mention from time to time that he would like for us to get a pair of rabbits and they could live on our back porch. Fast forward 3 months, we made a trip to the “big city” (which was over an hour away) and one of our errands was to pick up some pantyhose. He agreed to go with me so I said something like, “Since you are being so nice to do this with me, is there anywhere you want me to go with you?” He gets a little boy at Christmas look on his face and says, “We can go get some pet rabbits at the pet store!” (I meant Home Depot, Tractor Supply Company, etc.) My eyes must have about popped out of my head and I said, “We don’t have a rabbit cage or food or anything we need to have pet rabbits, and I thought we said that we didn’t need any pets right away.” His response? “Look in the back.” Yes, mouse followers, there was a rabbit hutch in the back of our SUV. How did I miss that? So he says in a sad little voice, “We don’t have to get the rabbits.” Yeah, right. So we head to the pet store and get 2 dutch bunnies, a black and white one and a gray and white one that we named Black Bunny and Gray Bunny. We’re a very creative family.
BB and GB become permanent residents in our house. (Who needed that stupid hutch anyway?) Did you know bunny pee is neon orange? And if you have a light colored couch, it’s pretty impossible to get out? And they poop little balls in corners and sometimes when they run they leave a poop trail wherever they go? And if you try to trap them in a baby gate, they will chew their way through it and if you put towels over the part they can chew, they will take a running start and jump over it? I did not know any of that, but I do now. Who says you can't learn something new every day?
So BB and GB finally get banished to the back porch in the hutch but DM would let them out to roam on the porch. Here’s where the story gets interesting. (You’re still reading?) If you didn’t shut the screen door exactly in the right way, it would leave a tiny gap. So one night around 11pm, DM comes rushing in the bedroom and says, “Gray Bunny is gone. The screen door was open. We have to find her.” Remember, we live on an 800 acre farm. Our landlord is a huge packrat and he collects broken tractors and old farm equipment, has a few sheds full of (what I would call junk but I’m sure it’s very important) stuff, there is a pack of wild dogs that roam the property and it’s the middle of the night. I forgot to mention that the rabbits don’t like us very much and they run away from us whenever they see us. And I have to be at work in the morning. He makes me get up out of bed (so I’m still wearing my pjs), there is no moon and we have an almost dead single beam flashlight. Oh, and it's January, so it's not exactly sunbathing weather.
I want you to continue to read my blog, so I’m going to stop here for now. (And I'm sure there is a word limit somewhere on here.) I promise I won’t leave you hanging.
DM and I had been married for about 2 months, living in Po-dunk, USA renting a house from a farmer who lived on 800 acres. We knew we didn’t want kids right away and loosely discussed getting some pets but I was working 50 – 60 hours a week and DM was in school full time, studying during his free time. I (logically?) didn’t think it would be fair to any animal (other than a fish, and who wants a goldfish over the age of 7) so I was under the impression we decided together that the timing wasn’t right. DM would mention from time to time that he would like for us to get a pair of rabbits and they could live on our back porch. Fast forward 3 months, we made a trip to the “big city” (which was over an hour away) and one of our errands was to pick up some pantyhose. He agreed to go with me so I said something like, “Since you are being so nice to do this with me, is there anywhere you want me to go with you?” He gets a little boy at Christmas look on his face and says, “We can go get some pet rabbits at the pet store!” (I meant Home Depot, Tractor Supply Company, etc.) My eyes must have about popped out of my head and I said, “We don’t have a rabbit cage or food or anything we need to have pet rabbits, and I thought we said that we didn’t need any pets right away.” His response? “Look in the back.” Yes, mouse followers, there was a rabbit hutch in the back of our SUV. How did I miss that? So he says in a sad little voice, “We don’t have to get the rabbits.” Yeah, right. So we head to the pet store and get 2 dutch bunnies, a black and white one and a gray and white one that we named Black Bunny and Gray Bunny. We’re a very creative family.
BB and GB become permanent residents in our house. (Who needed that stupid hutch anyway?) Did you know bunny pee is neon orange? And if you have a light colored couch, it’s pretty impossible to get out? And they poop little balls in corners and sometimes when they run they leave a poop trail wherever they go? And if you try to trap them in a baby gate, they will chew their way through it and if you put towels over the part they can chew, they will take a running start and jump over it? I did not know any of that, but I do now. Who says you can't learn something new every day?
So BB and GB finally get banished to the back porch in the hutch but DM would let them out to roam on the porch. Here’s where the story gets interesting. (You’re still reading?) If you didn’t shut the screen door exactly in the right way, it would leave a tiny gap. So one night around 11pm, DM comes rushing in the bedroom and says, “Gray Bunny is gone. The screen door was open. We have to find her.” Remember, we live on an 800 acre farm. Our landlord is a huge packrat and he collects broken tractors and old farm equipment, has a few sheds full of (what I would call junk but I’m sure it’s very important) stuff, there is a pack of wild dogs that roam the property and it’s the middle of the night. I forgot to mention that the rabbits don’t like us very much and they run away from us whenever they see us. And I have to be at work in the morning. He makes me get up out of bed (so I’m still wearing my pjs), there is no moon and we have an almost dead single beam flashlight. Oh, and it's January, so it's not exactly sunbathing weather.
I want you to continue to read my blog, so I’m going to stop here for now. (And I'm sure there is a word limit somewhere on here.) I promise I won’t leave you hanging.
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