rats!

Turns out we have a rat in the house.  I wish instead, i could say “a mouse in the house,” (well, not as much as obviously i wish we had ZERO rodents in the house,) not only b/c a mouse in the house sounds much cuter, but also is somehow much less nasty.

The first incident was after church one night.  We got home around 7:30 pm, not quite dark yet, and as he was putting his shoes away Oliver hollered and nearly climbed the wall;  he was freaked out.  We asked what he’d seen, and he told us, “It was a little squirrel running faster and faster!”  Was it inside or outside?  I asked, thinking that since we have several sliding glass doors to the deck, maybe something (an actual squirrel, perhaps) had caught his eye from outside.  His voice all shaky, he answered, “Inside.  Outside.  No, it was inside.”

The eyewitness of an almost-three year old is not always the most reliable.  It’s not that I didn’t believe him, but there wasn’t much to go on, really.  So we forgot about it.  Till the next morning, when we awoke to find that something had gotten into the bananas on the counter.  This is not okay.

Now we know it is (gulp) a rat:   Brian went to the D.I.Y Exterminator store (on Oleander, in case you wondered,) and has gone back two more times.  The owner/operator of the store has, specimens of the um, evidence the vermin leave behind, for the customer’s convenience, of course, which B was able to compare with what we’ve (ugh!) found in order to buy the right trap.

The right trap, the D.I.Y pest-guy said, it a large piece of sticky paper, made specially for this purpose.  “You smear just a dab of peanut butter on it,” he said.  “Not too much, now or he’ll be able to lean around the paper and lick it off, ya know.” (Pest-guy pantomimes a rat licking peanut butter off sticky paper.)

We (and please know that by “we” i mean Brian) baited and set the glue traps,  (Thanks, babe!) and proceeded to sleep with one eye open.  Did i mention pest-guy also said “Yeah, they squeal when they get caught.”  (blech.)  We tossed, we turned;  we heard everything (old-house creaking noises, the kids breathing and rolling over, the crickets outside,) and we heard nothing.  We caught fur and a tail.  “Aw this is nasty,” Brian said, “Do you want to see it?”  Um, no way Jose.

Back to the D.I.Y pest place.  More glue traps, pest-guy seems to think this is really the way to go.  “What are we gonna catch him one appendage at a time?” I asked.  “And do you think after he spent enough time on that glue paper to chew off his own tail that he’ll take the bait again?”  Brian says he doesn’t think they’re that smart.  But we had those things out three nights running, and we got nothing.  Nor did we see any signs.  So maybe, we thought, he just decided to go back into the wild.

But I’ll admit, when I walk up the stairs at night I kinda watch my back, expecting to see a rodent out for revenge, with a bandaged tail-stump and a crazy look in his beady eyes.  Somehow in my image, he’s got a pirate-style eye patch and a peg leg too.

Well, after another banana incident, we decided to spring (ha!) for the old school mousetrap, jumbo version.  At this very moment, they’re baited, and we’re waiting– and a little anxious, a little horrified, a little violated– to put this episode to rest.

UPDATE:  So, we caught a rodent of (apparently) usual size,  (The spring-action trap was baited with taco meat, FYI.  TMI?  I dunno, i thought it was funny.) but WITH A TAIL.  Oh, sweet Lord.

the big one.

I had hoped for denial to cause it not to happen (as is usually the goal with denial.  at least in my [embarrassingly large amount of] experience), or to at least cause a delay of a few months.  But it had to happen: Asher’s first birthday.  It’s a joyous occasion, no doubt, but also definitely bittersweet.  For one, i could not accept the fact that his first year has passed so swiftly.

When Stella was first born, even before, I recall lots of “old people” (empty nest and beyond) cautioning, “enjoy every moment.  They grow up so fast.”  And i knew they were all right.  I have made every effort to do that, to seize the moments and never wish them away (though of course there occasionally whole days filled with that.  The really hard ones.)    In spite of all those moments seized and savored, the year flew on by, marking my heart with sweet memories to recall but never re-live.

From the day he was born, Asher has been such a sweet baby, stereotypical in a good way– he who is loves to play with his feet and giggle at his big sister, he who would snuggle and coo at bedtime and who recently lay on the floor at my feet and fell asleep when he got tired during small group.   (I mean, i thought babies could do that stuff, but  i love actually experiencing it!)

As Ash was demolishing his slice of birthday cake (vanilla with chocolate buttercream frosting), Brian remarked, “well, this is the last 1st birthday.”  Laughing, but not joking.  Ever faithful in her stance on this issue, Stella says, “No dad,  you’ll have one more.”

I guess i could consider the possibility that he could be right about that.  But I haven’t yet.

At one + one day, Asher is cheerful (though he has hit separation anxiety and gets edgy when Brian or I leave the room), goofy (making silly faces and loving the attention he gets), noisy, determined (doesn’t realize he’s smaller than his siblings and wants to keep up with everything they do.  And he climbs everything,) empathetic (he’ll start to fuss when he hears either Stell or Oliver get upset).  He can take 3-4 steps but if i try to get him to, he looks at me like i’m crazy and immediately drops to crawling.   He has a few words:  mo (more), ba (ball), nuh (snack, or food), wawa (water– the ocean, the bath, the sprinkler…) mama and something i think means Stella;  also likes to hum or “aaaah” along to music, which is fun, and has started clapping and dancing too (again, loves the attention this brings).

So, as it goes, i’ll embrace the memories of my baby’s bygone babyhood and look forward to what’s next. (maybe someday we’ll no longer have a kid in diapers?  everyone will be able to drink from regular (not sippy) cups, and go to bed with no special (pacifiers, blankies) accessories?  imagine!)

And really, one is so fun.  This is the age i always call “every little thing [he] does is  magic,” because every day seems to hold so much discovery and excitement.  And, well, at one they can’t really talk yet.

So, cheers and here goes, and thank God for this past sweet year!

frust and rust

Oliver asked me the other day if he could draw with me. I was journaling while the kids rested/napped when he woke up, trotted downstairs and climbed up into the chair next to me. Of course he could! Perfect. We will “draw” together. He asked me to draw a “2″ then after I’d inked the numeral, he got so angry! “No! That not a two! That not how it goes!” And it was downhill from there.

Hmm. It’s moments like this, I thought, when I really don’t know what to do with you. Misunderstandings are so frequent with a toddler, and meltdowns and freak-outs. And after enough of those, or in the morning before i’ve got my head on straight yet, or when I’m just having a hard time keeping it together on my own, things get pretty tough.  I end up yelling and swiftly regretting it and having to ask forgiveness from my startled littles. Well, I have prayed for humility…

Of course, I did point out to Oliver that “Yes it is!  That is what a “2″ looks like.”  As if that were going to help.  And then I laughed at the fact that I was trying to reason with him on that issue.  Which is better than getting aggravated at his sour mood, which happened with unusual frequency over the weekend.

Having caught the “little cold” that has circulated amongst our circle of friends, I find myself attempting to continue on with life as usual but at about 1/2 power.  Today, energy is returning, and at least I don’t feel like my head is floating somewhere in the clouds, but my head still feels like the gears are rusted together.  The brain part, that is;  my actual physical head is still kinda gunky.   I can’t smell or taste, and everything sounds echo-y.  You know this feeling?  Altered reality.  It’s weird.

Tomorrow is Stella’s first day of preschool.  She’s been looking forward to this for an entire year!  And I thought I’d feel kind of melancholy and overly reflective about my baby growing up, but really i just feel like it’s time.  She is ready to spend time with  kids her age, to do things tailored to her age level and not her age + two-and-a-half + eleven months.  And surprisingly, life will continue on after the occasion comes and goes:  we have our regular small group, plans that evening, and somewhere in there I have a 45-min. run scheduled.  (Note to self:  must feel 100% by tomorrow morning.  Busy day!)