Die Another Day

There are a lot of June updates to post - it was a very fun, very full month! And July is proving to be just a full and fun. Laura and Clay's wedding is this weekend and we are having so much fun showering the couple with fun parties and gifts.

But first...before any of those updates...I must share my last 48 hours with you, my beloved three readers.

I will cut straight to the point; there is no easy way to say it - there is a mouse in my new house.

The week started out great. We closed with no hick-ups, had a relatively easy move,  and by Monday night we were sleeping in our new home.  Trey was off all week and started tackling the long to-do list that comes with a new (old) home.

To top it off, it was a long weekend. I love a holiday and a 4 day weekend.  It was the set up to a most perfect, relaxing time.

Until Saturday.

As I was unloading the dishwasher Saturday evening after a fun day, I noticed the evidence of a mouse in our cabinet.

It did not go over well with me.

But I am adult, so I did what all adults do when faced with danger - I called my mama.  She calmed me, and said to set a trap and that it will be gone in no time.

She reminded me that the home had been vacant for a few months and everyone has mice at some point or another.

I was somewhat calm at this point.

Then it happened.  It was 10:45 Saturday evening.  Kids were asleep and Trey was in the family room reading.  I was back in our bedroom getting out of the bath when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye scurry across our bed room.

Panic sets in.

I did the only rational thing to do. I jumped on the bathroom counter and called Trey 17 consecutive times with no answer.  Then I remembered that his phone died earlier that day and was charging in the kitchen. 

He couldn't hear my cry for help.

Deeper panic starts to take over.

At the second sighting of the unwelcomed house guest, I screamed. Loud. A good mom would have recognized that her children were asleep and that, while gross, I was in no real danger and my life was not threatened.

I am not that good mom.  I screamed loudly.

The mouse ran away. But my tears didn't stop.

After a piggy-back ride on my husband, I was safe in the den sitting Indian style on the only piece of furniture currently in the room. 

Then I sent my mom a panicked text message around 11, because I am a thirty year old woman and that is what adults do. I told her I was coming to her house; there was no way I was staying another moment in a rat-infested house. (the small mouse grew in size and number in my mind as the night went on)
She tried to rationalize with me and told me I could come if I really wanted to.  Trey was staring at me in disbelief saying he would happily pack my bags and send me on my way.

Whatev.

In the end, I decided I was a nursing mom and couldn't just abandon my children.  And I couldn't just run from my fears - I must look at them straight on.  So I sent my husband to Wal-Mart at midnight to buy all the traps money could buy.

The drama didn't stop there.  Now is a good time to point out that I am in the process of shopping for a new master bed.  We moved our bed to the guest bedroom, which is in the process of being painted.  We haven't bought a mattress for that bed. 

So our box spring and mattress is on the floor.

ON.THE.MOUSE.FLOOR.

There was nothing that anyone could say or do to get me to go back to our bedroom, much less sleep with the rodents on the floor. 

I spend the night in a chair in the middle of a well-lit family room. 

Sunday morning, when the traps showed up empty, I realized it was time for war.  Trey was long gone for work when the kids woke up.  I, being the responsible and sane mother, told Jones that our bedroom was off limits. When asked why, I told him the only thing  I knew to tell him - there were big bugs that would bite him if he went in there. 

It worked.

I am a ministers wife and knew I had to be at church after a month away.  I am sure people wonder about  my role as it is, but 5 weeks of not being there might be suspicious to some of the elders.

But I was not about to go back in my bedroom, because all practical and rational adults know that a mouse would never, ever, leave to a second location.

Idiot.

So I threw clothes on the children, pulled my hair up in a bun, and put on a dress that was wrinkled in a bag in the back of my car.  Trey later asked why I just didn't shower in the kids' bathroom.  The obvious answer is because everything was in our bathroom including my flat iron and we know my hair just isn't going to look right without a flat iron.

I can tell this story is getting winded...I will wrap it up now by saying that after church and lunch with friends,  I loaded Anna Joy up in the car and we went to Wal-Mart, again, to arm ourselves with everything that Google told me to buy. 

Turns out that googling "how to rid your home of mice" can lead to an expensive(possibly unnecessary) Wal-Mart trip. 

Don't care. $176 and lots of plastic pantry bins and traps later, our pantry is looking good and 35 traps have been strategically placed around our new home.


As of this morning, no mouse has been caught. In addition, there is a high probability that Trey wants me to leave with the mouse.  This experience has shown us nothing if not how I react in times of desperation. (read: panic)
The only glimpse of hope left is that I tracked down a pest control guy and called him at home yesterday afternoon.  After 10 minutes of me in hysterics, he promised to be at our home today to rid us of this problem.

I sure hope so. This is no way to live. 

Godspeed, little mouse.