Jennifro

I never imagined this would be the way I would begin my blog.  I tend to way over-think things sometimes.  So for weeks and weeks, no actually, for over a year, I've thought my blog to death.

How I would start?  What would or wouldn't I include?  What type of blog would I be doing? How do you just...start?  Seriously annoying.  So tonight after clicking AGAIN onto my empty page, I felt compelled to write about the mouse incident.  More like, mice incident.  Three to be exact.  Anyway, every winter it seems we get a mouse or two in the kitchen, so for about a month I've been bugging Nick to get some mouse traps.   He goes to Lowes nearly everyday so I think it would be a fairly easy request.  Well, this is his response..."Oh Jen, they're like on the whole other side of the store."  He was right.  They were on the other side of the store-- near the garden section--the side he never goes to.  And that's where I found my glue traps last week when I finally broke down and got them myself.  Notice I said glue traps.  Realizing Nick was leaving town, I knew I wouldn't be setting any traps alone so I settled on the glue traps.  Now--my first thought was--GLUE?  So what does the mouse do once he's stuck there?  Then I read the magic words, something like... coated with analgesic, or antihistamine, I can't remember, but I figured it meant poison.  So, in other words, the mouse gets stuck, breaths in the poison and quickly drifts off to sleep on his bed of rubber cement.  Well... LET-ME-TELL-YOU!

Fast forward to this morning.  I reach under the cupboard to retrieve the rice cooker to make rice pudding and SCREAM!!!!!!  There on my glue pad is a poor, sad, dead mouse.  But wait... on the flip side--that's a good thing--the system worked.  We caught our mouse.  I sure as heck can't pick up the tray, though.  "Nicholas, help!" 

My thoughts are interrupted by, "Mom I need a spoon."  As I open the utensil drawer, I  figure I might as well check that glue pad too.  SCREAM!!!  SCREAM!!!  Shake.  Legs are weak. All the kids run in. Nicholas looks a little deeper into the drawer.  "Oh that's really sad," he says.  

It sure as crap is sad!  So... affixed to glue pad #2 is not one, but TWO, struggling, miserable mice.  I am truly horrified out of my mind and immediately call someone.  I call Nick, who's in Utah, and wake him up.  He agrees the situation is horrible, and casually tells me to drowned them.  DROWNED THEM!!??  Yes, I would love to pry them off of their death bed, probably getting my fingers chewed the whole way, just to hang them by their tail into the toilet.  

Is he crazy?!

But wait.  If I just give it a minute they will surely die peacefully from the poison like their brother did.  I instruct Nicholas, that being a boy, he should carry the trays outside.  He looks me dead on and says, "you're the oldest" and leaves.  I close the drawer and am still shaking. Then I realize there is absolutely no way I can be in the same room with two dying mice.  I have to be brave enough to carry them outside.  So, here comes the part in the story where I really lose all sense of reason.  Had I taken time to collect my thoughts I would have realized Nick meant I should fill a bucket, and lower the whole tray into the water. Thus, ending their misery quickly and as humanely as possible.  Instead, I don rubber gloves and squeamishly lift both trays out of the drawer and cupboard, carefully lower them into the trash, and carry it outside. I truly did not know what else to do and sincerely believed that they would very soon be dead from toxins.  

Fast forward to that evening when I'm talking to my mom on the phone.  I begin to tell her of the morning trauma and she says, "You used WHAT? They're not poison."

Fear stabs me in the chest. 

I am now panicking as I think of the mice in the trash bag outside all day NOT poisoned.  Are they still ALIVE!?  I hang up and googled "mouse, glue, pad." Needless to say what I read on PETA confirmed my anguish.  As bad as the thought sickened me, I knew I had to go look. But not until I called John to see if he would come over and look for me. He wisely told me they were rodents and that I was freakin' over nothing.  Call number two... Matt.  Not home. Cell phone, no answer.  I was dying by this point, when Little Natalie, who had been witnessing my horror for the past twenty minutes, came up to me with flashlight in hand.  "It's okay Mom. 

You didn't know.  I'll go help you do it."

Well, to end this very long entry, I slowly and timidly ripped the bag open to find three sleeping mice.  I'd like to think they died quickly--but the evidence told me otherwise. 

As long as I live I will never use one of those heinous traps again. 

And on that note, a blog is born.  (rest in peace little meece)