a year of pestilence

It actually started last year while we were away for Christmas. A family of 3 ginormous mice decided that our garage would make a lovely home. After one got squished by a toolbox Scott knocked over, the others ran up into a hole in the garage to hide. Apparently, mice are stupid, though, so they ate the grass seed that was on a low shelf in the garage and also ate some fertilizer. And that’s why we found one underneath a shelf in the garage. And very stinky. We cleaned out the entire garage (thanks for the help Nana and Granddad!) and tore up part of the wall in search of the third mouse. My theory is that he died outside of the house. There was a time when a pile of landscaping rocks was really stinky. Then the dog went outside in the middle of the night and Scott had to work really hard to get the dog to come back in because the dog was digging in the pile of rocks. Ew. I don’t really want to think about what went on there.

And that was the end of the mouse problem.

Then there were the fruit flies. I think they came in on the flowers that Scott and the kids bought me for Mother’s Day. And they stayed and stayed and stayed until I found their favorite brand of red wine and they finally all went in for a drink and drowned. Buh-bye flies! I hope you were happy when you died!

And then there were the meal moths. They likely came in on some of our groceries. I spent a whole Sunday cleaning out the pantry and found their baby larvae in the spouts of the kids’ water bottles, inside packages of crackers – everywhere! It was SO disgusting! I threw out tons of food and loaded up the freezers with everything that was in the pantry that didn’t seem to have been touched by the moths but might have eggs that I couldn’t see. And then put out sticky traps. It probably took about a month for those buggers to go away but I think they might actually be gone. In the meantime, everything grain-like in the pantry is now in plastic or glass storage containers. Take that, you pests!

And now it’s the wasps. One buzzed me in the master bath this weekend and then was kind enough to hang out on a countertop long enough for Scott to get it with a magazine. I gave it a second whack for good measure. No sense having a wasp fly out of the trash can at me if I can take out some pent-up frustration and whack him completely dead, right?

We thought that was it, but NO – it wasn’t. As I finished my shower this morning, I got buzzed. I grabbed my towel and ran out of the room. I cowered in the bedroom for half an hour or so, waiting for the guy to land someplace convenient. But he obviously didn’t like my bathroom (can’t blame him – the green color the previous owners picked is really wearing on me). He buzzed around the ceiling, trying to find his way out. I would have just closed the door and been done with it, but I was naked (well, I had a towel) and all my clothes were in the closet. On the other side of the bathroom. I would have to go through the realm of the wasp. I first clothed myself in Scott’s Captain America shirt (gotta be a wasp-fighting superhero, right?) and then prepared a weapon: a swiffer taped up so that it wouldn’t swivel anymore. Otherwise known as a wasp-on-the-wall-squisher. And then I decided that I was too vulnerable in my Captain America shirt, so I added one of Scott’s jackets on top for extra protection.

I waited until the wasp seem to be just resting near the ceiling and slowly walked through the bathroom and into the closet with my weapon at the ready. I started changing clothes and that’s when I got buzzed by a wasp IN THE CLOSET!! I screamed like a schoolgirl and ran from the room and promptly called Scott to tell him we had a big problem. And then eventually sucked it up and slowly went back in to grab my clothes and get dressed elsewhere. I closed the bathroom door and bedroom door and locked it up so that no one could accidentally open it.

And now Jack the exterminator (and my hero – swoon!) has saved the day by pumping nasty powder into all the crevices on that side of my house and killing the one wasp that he found in my bathroom (using my handy dandy swiffer weapon). Thank you Jack!

I’m hoping that there is no more pestilence to come. But I’m thinking I need to arm myself for what’s next. Will it be squirrels in the attic? Possums in the garage? Mice in the car? No, can’t be mice – we already had those. Termites?

Or will the remainder of the year be peaceful?

I’m hoping for peace.

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i used to be a cat person

If you were wondering whether The Boy would be walking to school tomorrow, the answer is “no.” Apparently my threat scared him enough that he decided to get ready on time this morning. YAY!

Eons ago, my family had cats. And dogs. Both – because we were cat and dog people. And then I met Scotty, who is very allergic to cats. Like throat seizing up and feeling the aftereffects for days kind of allergic. When we were dating, I would change into clean clothes before going to his apartment. And I would no longer let my cat sleep in the basket of clean clothes (poor kitty!).

When I graduated and moved from Austin, I gave away my cat (a tragic story I’ll tell one day). After a short time of being catless, I can’t hang out with them anymore. And it’s so sad because I just love ’em to bits!

Which is going to be problematic for The Boy’s cub scout meetings. His den leader has cats. Which I thought wasn’t a problem – we’ve been to their house before (hubby of den leader is The Girl’s soccer coach) without a problem. But we were always downstairs. Where there are hardwood floors. And I never sat on cloth furniture. And we often were outside.

But the den meetings are in the theater room. Which is carpeted. And has upholstered sofas. And lots of nooks and crannies for cat dander to collect and hide. So after a mere hour, my eyes were itching, I was sneezing, the roof of my mouth itched (does that happen to anyone else or am I just weird?), and I was ready to get outta Dodge.

Why oh why do kitties have to have yucky dander? Why? They’re so sweet and soft and cuddly yet aloof and independent. Oh, and the purring! Don’t get me started on the purring! It’s so amazing that they can make such a noise!

Now I’m left wondering what I’m going to do about the next 9 months of den meetings. I’m hoping that I was just extra sensitive because I’m getting over a cold. But what if that’s not the case? Would I be willing to host at our house? And would the den leader be ticked? I guess I could always just drop The Boy off and ask someone to bring him home. But I was hoping I would be able to participate in this.

Darn cat dander. Ruins everything.

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a threat I hope I don’t have to enforce

I used to never be late. My parents ingrained it into me: being late is bad – always arrive early or on time.

And then I had kids. At first, the excuses were things like:

  • I’m not used to leaving the house with a baby and haven’t figured out how long it takes.
  • The baby had a wet diaper.
  • The baby pooped right as we were loading in the car.
  • The baby spit up and I had to change his clothes.

And then the excuses were:

  • I’m not used to leaving the house with a toddler and a baby.
  • The baby pooped and the toddler was screaming because he was hungry.
  • The dog wouldn’t get out of the garage and that’s where the car is.
  • I was too tired to get up when the alarm clock went off and I overslept and now I’m perpetually behind.

And now we’re down to:

  • The kid(s) wouldn’t wake up quickly enough.
  • The kid(s) wouldn’t pick out clothes quickly enough.
  • The designated dog-feeding child complained about feeding the dogs for too long before finally feeding them.
  • The kid(s) took too long to brush teeth.
  • The kid(s) took too long to get dressed.
  • The kid(s) needed to poop.
  • The kid(s) decided to play instead of doing one of the above things.
  • I was too tired to get up when the alarm clock went off and I overslept and now I’m perpetually behind.

So this morning, when we were late leaving for the umpteenth time, I told The Boy that if he made me wait for him again tomorrow morning then on the following morning if he was not walking to the car with me when I left he would be left alone at home and would have to walk to school. Yes, I’ve threatened to leave my 7-yr old to his own devices to finish getting ready for school and walk there himself.

I sure hope I don’t have to follow through on this!

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in the beginning…there was a blog post

Right now I should be picking up the piles of crap around the house because the cleaning lady is coming tomorrow. Or perhaps putting away the dishes from dinner (cereal, anyone?). Or maybe even folding the laundry. But instead, I’m starting a blog. Although it’s not really my first blog since I had one eons ago before blogs everyone was mommyblogging and then I became too busy for blogging. (if you’re curious enough to look for that old content, head on over here)

Why am I starting my blog? Well, really I’m hoping to document the life of a harried working mom who is hoping to making the leap to SAHM-dom and then not regret it. So here you will get to see that journey. Or so I hope.

I’d start things off right by documenting the baskets of laundry on the couch or lunchboxes ready to be unloaded and repacked or any of the other headaches that await me this evening, but…well I can’t find the dang memory card for the camera. Yup. This blog is off to a great start, right? Cuz I”m pretty sure I only like the pretty blogs with pictures and not tons of text.

[click] That’s my first reader leaving me already. And not the sound of my camera taking a picture since it makes no noise when it doesn’t have a card in it.
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