Chloe and I were out running all kinds of errands yesterday in order to try to stay out of Chuck and the boys' way as they were "assembling" ( I use the term loosely ) a new swing set outside. I figured it's about time I start teaching Chloe the finer points of shopping.
So, we went to the grocery store. Of course she decides that this would be a good time to start "talking" at the top of her lungs. So, now I have to marathon shop (get my whole weeks worth of groceries in less than 15 minutes) so I don't disturb the rest of the patrons at this fine establishment.
The first place I go is to the produce section. Being the ever courteous shopper, I move my shopping cart (with Chloe buckled in the front seat), over to the side so I don't take up the whole isle. However, I failed to notice that I parked her right next to the apple display. I turned my back for 2 seconds and then saw apples all over the floor by my feet. "Hmmm", I think to myself, "that was awfully close to Chloe". There was also a loud noise accompanying the apples.
I turn around at warp speed only to find my daughter moving the corner box of the whole display, thereby, causing the avalanche of apples to occur. Two produce guys come running. They look bionic in nature with outstreched arms coming at me. Everything seems to be going in slow motion at this point. Chloe continues to reak havoc as I try to pry her cute, tiny, fat hand off the box. I apologize profusely and start backing away.
I see other customers walking past me shaking their heads. Years ago, I would have been doing the same thing. "My children will be much better behaved than that, they'll be perfect angels at the grocery store." That's one of those things you say before you have kids. Then you have them and realize you were a great idealist at the time. Kids are dirty, messy, loud, unpredictable and loud.
The crazy thing is, people were probably thinking...'that poor mom, i'm sure she'll get better at this whole mom thing as the little one gets older'...little did they know that she's my third!!! I'm supposed to know what I'm doing by now. Aren't I?!! My children certainly keep me humble! :)
As the evening progressed closer and closer to bed-time, the boys found themselves in the thick of cleaning up the day's mess that lay on the floor all over the house. Mind you, we do have that ever-so-enforceable rule of "play with one toy at a time and then put it away before you get out another one", so I don't know how we ended up with a ton of things around the house to clean up (I say that tongue-in-cheek). Actually, I do...let me digress. You see, my boys (6 and 3) don't play with toys. Not because they are in need of any, oh no, we have a whole room full. But it seems my boys prefer to play "dress-up" all day long. We probably have more costumes in this house than Broadway. But nothing could be more fun, as of late, than to fly through the house with a Tigger or Pooh blanket tied around your neck, with Batman underwear on, another pair of underwear on your head and several layers of pajama bottoms and socks (those are actually boots - Chloe's pink socks are the more preferable kind). Do you have the mental picture of my children yet? Their tendancy is to remove one costume in whichever room they are in and get into yet another character by delving into their bottomless supply of pajamas, socks, and general costume gear.
So....as I was saying, the boys were 'cleaning' (I use the broadest scope of that word) their things. Gavin had done his part and decided to come half way down the stairs and in all the brotherly love he could muster, inform us that Bennett had not completed his task to the level we desired (meaning - not at all). Bennett, ever ready to justify himself, was standing next to Gavin at the top of the stairs during this time. So, as I was typing on the computer, I called up to Bennett "Bennett, we need to have a talk about this" and he responded in all seriousness, "How about tomorrow."
Where did such a quick wit come from? We'll never know. He certainly has a good come back. We tried desparately hard not to laugh at him - but even Gavin was laughing. We were totally caught off-guard.
I know, I know...I'm a horrible blogger. I have practically vanished off the scene for the past four months. But thankfully, I have the most wonderful excuse. We moved. That pretty much sums everything up right there. The riggors of packing, cleaning, unpacking, packing, cleaning and unpacking again (yes, we had to move twice in two months) leave one (especially me) with little to no time to do the things I love to do (like take a bubble bath and blog - not at the same time, mind you). But new material is always at my fingertips. Like now for example...
Things in the new house are relatively good - except for the mice!!! YUCK!!! Evidently, they lived here first and are not too happy that we have taken over their field. So, they are eating through the weather stripping and making themselves at home. Actually, I think we only have one POW in the house - they seem to like the garage - which we never enter any more. The other night we sent the kids upstairs to get ready for bed and they came running back down all freaked out saying they saw "something". We tried to blow it off. Chuck asked Gavin "what exactly did you see, describe it" (without trying to put words in his mouth of what he thought it was). So, Gavin said "I saw it run down the stairs and jump off, it was kinda small and black and had like 10 pointy hairs and a tail". I'm like, "you sure it wasn't a cricket?, I'm sure that's all it was" and Gavin was like "No, I'm pretty sure it was a mouse".
Chuck and I just lost it and started freaking out. We are huge scaredy cats when it comes to rodents of any kind. We immediately went out and bought some mouse traps and set them in the house and garage and lived with the hibbie-jibbies for a few days. We went for about 4 days without a sighting. Until this morning. We were obviously living with a false sense of security it seems.
I was on my hands and knees doing something on the floor and out of my peripheral vision I see something scampering across the floor. It was gray, not black. Oh how I wished at that moment that God could transport me directly to my bed and my bare feet wouldn't have to walk on the defiled floor that my nemesis just passed. I ran around the corner and leapt onto my bed with cell phone in hand. I planned on staying there until help arrived. I quickly called Chuck, who just got to work (it was like, 6:30am) and begged him to come home immediately to rescue me. The kids were safe up stairs - I, on the other hand, was in imminent danger.
Needless to say, he was a tad bit frustrated. :) He wouldn't have had to come home, mind you, had we had more than one car in our possession (that's a whole other blog). We were told the only way to solve the mouse problem (that's putting it mildly, I would rather call it the "black plague"), would be to lay out mouse poison around the premises of the house and in the flower beds. Problem is, we hadn't had a chance to run out and get any yet. So, Chuck stopped and picked some up and came home with an arsenal of weapons in hand, ready to conquer our enemy. He came home and looked behind sofas and tables and beds and much to my chagrin, couldn't find my little furry "friend". But the traps were set, so I once again a nice false sense of security calmed my queasy tummy long enough for him to go back to work for the rest of the day.
I swear I wanted to throw up once I saw the thing. The kids of course, think this is very funny. That mommy could be scared of something so small and cute and furry. They have just finished be brainwashed with the movie: "An American Tail" and can't seem to see those little critters the same way I do. When I told them that I saw the mouse that morning and that Daddy was coming home to "take care of it", the immediately started into their "aw Mom, don't do that, we want it as a pet". My obvious response was "NO WAY! Fish are pets, dogs are pets, cats are pets - mice are NOT pets - EVER - in this house". I believe I got the point across.
Upon further research, we think the way our little mousey pooh got in was through the opening in the bottom of the front door where the weather stripping had been chewed away and the thresh-hold was not high enough. They've since come to fix that and we've set many a trap and bait outside and in the garage which apparently are working. But this one little critter in the house, he must have a higher IQ.
We ended up having to upgrade our weaponry. We moved up to the sticky traps. We had been told that we would hear him "screaming" once he gets stuck - I'm sure that ghastly sound will haunt me the rest of my life, but I'm prepared to live with that. We can see he's trying to get back into the garage thru the utility cuz he's trying to eat through the weather stripping again. Hopefully tonite will be our last night with our uninvited little guest. Of course, this greatly saddens the boys. :)
UPDATE: Mission Accomplished - Noise not heard! :) (probably cuz I was sleeping with my hands covering my ears that night.)
