Not the spa treatment anyone wants

I hate mice. Mice are nasty, vile, gross, and fast.

We have lived in this house for almost 10 years and I can honestly say that I've seen only a couple of mice since we moved in. This is my justification for having so many cats. (They are all outside/barn cats, its not like I'm the crazy cat lady or anything) BUT a day or two ago I am lying on my bed and out of the corner of my eye I see something move. AAAAAHHHHHHH!! NOOOOOO! I guess it should be expected since this winter has been so cold. However, that rationalization did not stop me from NOT feeding my cats the next day. OBVIOUSLY they need to be doing some hunting.

The next day Chris comes home with a rat arsenal. (All mice are rats to me, even if they aren't) Sticky strips go down, poison goes out. Now you have to understand that until this rat is caught, I cannot peacefully stand close to any cabinet, open any door, or pick up any laundry that has fallen on the floor. I am obsessively sweeping and cleaning. I hate mice.

I got up on day two and checked all my sticky pads. And there, on the one behind the bathrooom door was the grey mass. Nope, not the mouse, but lots of fur. The little sucker had gotten stuck and managed to get away, leaving his rat colored evidence behind. I call Chris at work to give him an "update".

I said: "Dude, you've got a rat with a brazilian living in your closet."

(I hope ratzilla is traumatized. I know I am)

Random

Things I never thought I'd hear myself say:

WHERE did you put that booger?

Is that a Clone Trooper on the ceiling fan?

No you can't have Santa's phone number, I don't care if you "need to explain".

OH MY WORD, you haven't changed your underwear in HOW LONG????

- and my personal favorite -

Stop biting the dog!

Teaching her the classics.

Sis and I were driving to town the other day and I was listening to Bon Jovi. I had it turned up and was singing along, you know like all good Mom's who aren't AT ALL embarrassing to their pre-teens! HA! From the backseat I hear her, muttering under her breath, "well, someone is missing the '80's".

So, I turned the cd up a little louder and schooled her on the "totally awesome"-ness of Jon Bon Jovi.

Any more comments out of her and I'll buy her a pair of parachute pants and rat comb her bangs!

All the world is his stage

The shower in our master bath is pretty big. OK, it's not lavish, but I'm alright with it. There are two small "steps" or "seats", one on each end, which are perfect for propping up a leg to shave, or to just sit down on and soak. Dillon, however, found a new use for them.

A few nights ago he was in our shower and over the noise of two t.v.'s and at least one closed door, we could hear him. So, Chris gets up to go check in on him and finds my son with one leg on each step (I do not know and don't want to know how he did this), water on full blast, playing air guitar and doing a fantastic impression of Steven Tyler of Aerosmith screeching *WALK THIS WAY, TALK THIS WAAAYYY.

Chris slid the door open and my junior rock star hops down gives his dad a thumbs up and finishes washing his hair.

Man-brain.

*Oh and I want to add that he only knows the CLEAN version of this song, so don't be sending me any "bad mommy"comments.

SER-I-OUS-LY

I'm sick. For the last two nights I have been sleeping on the couch so that I can prop my head up in hopes that at least some of this "mucous" will drain away. I am congested, snot-filled, sore throated, crusty-eyed SICK.

This morning my alarm went off at 6:15 (ugh, do the kids REALLY need to EAT before school??) and I rolled off the couch and pinballed off the walls until I managed to reach my bedroom door, eyes half-closed and hacking like a 200 yr old smoker. Chris is sitting on the edge of our bed watching the news. He takes one look at me stumbling into the room and says:

WAIT!! STOP!

I froze. (I should have known better, but hey, I was not fully awake AND right now I have more snot than gray matter in my brain)

Me: What?

CF: New rule. You can no longer enter this room unless you are topless.

Me: (Unfroze I fell face forward onto my bed) You know...you are SO MUCH FUNNIER when I am not drowning in SNOT.

CF: (Grinning like he wasn't about to get smacked) Well, you know...I have a "cure" for....

That is as far as he got.

Oh don't worry...I only broke two of his fingers.

It's a miracle we make it out of the door each day...oh wait...

When Chris and I had been married about three years, he accidentally locked me out of the house. It's a long story that includes him leaving to work cattle, me wearing nothing but the tank top and shorts I'd slept in, walking to the neighbors house barefoot, and eventually breaking into my own home.

Well, yesterday he managed to accidentally lock me IN the house. We were heading out to worship, he was taking the kids to Sunday school and I was coming later to worship service. Before he left, he decided to be "sweet" and wash his nasty feeding clothes. He and the kids left and I started to get ready when I heard the washing machine BANG BANG WHUP WHUP WHUP. (The concept of balancing the clothes in the washer is lost on my loving husband) I got up and headed to the laundry room only to find that the washer had "walked" its way in front of the door blocking any entry or exit to that room. Now, my laundry room is the gateway to my garage, where my car was, with the garage door opener IN the car. The result: I had no way to get to my car or into my garage.

At least I had access to my clothes this time..

Really??

Last week I woke up with a sore throat and feeling like crap, so I decided that after I dropped the kids at school, I'd head to the walk-in clinic. I made my co-pay and headed to the kiosks to update all my info. While I was there answering questions, the clerk said she needed to see a picture ID, then went on to comment that with all the new regulations and procedures pretty soon you'd need security clearance to see a doctor. (Obviously she is not thrilled with her new S.O.P) Her next comment was something like this:

"You know, it's silly, most people don't even look like their drivers license picture, so what's the point. Except you, now you look exactly like your picture!"

She then stopped and smiled up at me. I smiled back until I realized I was standing before her sick, dark circles under my eyes, not one single drop of make-up whatsoever, and had barely finger combed my hair that morning.

Apparently I need to re-take my D.L. photo.

He has a point...

Last night:

Dillon: Hey, Dad, I've got a new cologne guaranteed to attract girls.
CF: Oh yeah, well, what does it smell like?
Dillon: Wal-Mart

I think I am in trouble with this one!