Thursday, April 19, 2007
More from the "I can't make shit like this up" .. files....
With DH being gone, I have been collecting his mail, magazines and the like so I can send a box. (Although at this snails pace I might as well deliver it by hand).
One of DH's favorite magazines for the past 10 years at least is Backwoods Home. (He dutifully gets a subscription yearly at Christmas, a wonderful, and most useful resource of self reliance information. Deployed soldiers get a year for $10!!!)
So yesterday, as I am packing a box for DH. I thumb through the Backwoods Home. After all it is one of my favorite magazines too. I note an article on rodents, and how they have caused more death than ALL WORLD WARS COMBINED. Ick. For the record, I loathe mice, and rats. Really I don't care for them, they are dirty, and gross. In addition to loathing live mice and rodents, I also have a sort of abnormal fear of dead mice as well.
There is a point to this...I promise.
So this morning, I am luxuriating in the sweetest of dreams, and am sleeping so profoundly and soundly that I might have slept forever if left alone. And I am awakened to the following...
(*Also whine a lot when reading The Collectives parts, it will only add to the story, I promise)
The Collective: "Mommy we are sorry, it was an accident."
AWTM: *looking beyond The Collective, at the red alarm clock numbers, which says 5:57am*
The Collective: "Mommy, it was an accident."
AWTM: *Looking at them both, pupils trying to decipher light from dark and furniture from human faces.*
The Collective: *standing at my bedside with tears in their eyes.*
AWTM: *not wanting to know what I am about to wake up to, but insist on preparing my uncaffinated brain* "What is going on guys?"
The Collective: " We are sticky, we are stuck to everything."
AWTM: "Why?" "What did you get into guys?" *Yes I am still lying there trying to drag my ass out of bed.
The Collective: "the black thingy."
AWTM: *mentally going through the list of all black things in the home, trying to figure out what is sticky* My brain firing slowly, begging me for a cup of coffee. I look at The Collective and notice hands are sooo sticky that individual fingers are stuck together turning individual fingers into clumps of fingers.*
The Collective: *whining*
AWTM: "Why were you in the mousetrap? Do not answer that, please." *Deciding at this moment that I need to unstick children before even looking at the trap.
AWTM: *Slowly throwing legs off of the bed, and trying to figure out what in the name of God I have in the house to remove glue meant to trap a small rodent. Also wondering what else they could have touched, that is now covered in this stickier than honey left in the sun for 3 days substance. *
The Collective: *insert more whining here*
AWTM: *insert a list of 1,000 expletives trapped in my uncaffinated brain, along with the WTF were they thinking taking precedent over the rest of it.*
AWTM: *plodding to the medicine cabinet, and taking the only bottle of nail polish remover out. Why I bother keeping nail polish in my home is odd, my nails are currently a mess from yard work, planting, and plain neglect.*
AWTM: *rubbing small hands with a towel moistened with nail polish remover that is now sticking to hands. Not working.
The Collective: *insert more whining*
AWTM: "Do not touch a thing, do you understand, nothing, do not touch anything."
The Collective: *whining and touching whatever they can*
AWTM: *thinking about throwing them into a shower, or bath, and knowing there is no way in hell I am going to get to exercise class, which I NEED.*
Tammi: "Good Morning!"
AWTM: "Guess what I am doing?"
AWTM: "My kids are covered in mouse trap glue, and I am trying to remove it."
Tammi: "baby oil."
AWTM: "baby oil?"
Tammi: "baby oil."
AWTM: "Are you sure?"
So here is the tip for the day. I am already #1 if you google "how to remove poop from carpet", and now in addition to that I am going to be #1 for how to get mousetrap glue off of children's hands".
Crap. Just when i think I have nothing to blog about folks.
What a great way to begin the day.
Oh, and the trap was empty THANK GOD!! But makes me wonder what was so intriguing about the damn thing in the first place.
Tammi , I owe you a drink when I see you in DC.
Posted by Rachelle Jones at 10:24 AM