Of Mice and Blogs

Ok. So. There is something I've been meaning to write about, but to be honest I've been a little embarrassed.

We have mice.

Like, not running around the inside of our house or anything, but they are in between the floors. We never see them. We just hear them.

Well, and Zach hunts them.

No, not with guns, although he has plenty. We're Republicans, remember? He hunts them with traps.

And it's not like there's hundreds of them. I mean, he caught two before and now we think there are maybe two or three left.

They are little field mice that get in through the garage and keep us up at night with their scratching and scampering around.

Trust me, I am equally if not much more grossed out about the situation than you are right now. Trust me.

I've been told that it's a problem all over the city because of the long winter. I don't know if it's true or not. But, I choose to believe.

All of you that live in Omaha are like, "What? We don't have a mouse problem." Well. How nice for you. Congratulations.

We are apparently not so lucky.

And since we live in the basement, we have to hear the mice scampering around constantly. There is a drop ceiling, so Zach has strategically placed the traps all around our apartment in hopes of finding the small little problems.

He checks every half hour when he is home.

And being the good, careful husband he is, he has also placed them around our floors just in case.

He was supposed to hide them, or put them out of reach of the girls, but he missed one spot.

In our closet.

They are the sticky traps, the ones that hold the mice to them.

In my idea, those are the most humane, but what do I really know about Mouse Trap Technology? Seriously, if there is something nicer out there, then I would gladly change.

That's not true. More humane, generally means more expensive. And if I'm going to be honest, it's not like we would set the mouse free after we caught it. Because, show of hands, if you understand exactly where that mouse would run right back to.

Exactly, my house.

So anyways, Scarlett suddenly disappeared this afternoon for a couple minutes before we noticed she wasn't coming back. (She often does laps up and down the hallway.) Zach goes after her and I hear "Holy Crap! Oh gross. Oh man, this is disgusting!" come out of the bedroom.

And I am thinking Poop Explosion. Right? I mean disgusting=poop, that is exactly where a mother's mind goes to. Or at least mine.

But if it's poop, the next phrase out of Zach's mouth is usually, "Raaaaachel."

And I hear nothing.

Pretty soon, they both emerge from the bedroom, Zach holding one of her hands far from the rest of them.

What had happened was, she found the mouse trap and had gotten it stuck on the back of her hand. She couldn't get it off and Zach thought he was going to rip the skin of her hand off in his own attempts!

He passes her off to me so that I can wash off her fingers and hand and he could clean up whatever was left of this mess.

Guess what. Mouse Trap Crap is not easy to get off. In fact, I found it impossible to get off!

Her poor little hand is super sticky and keeps sticking to everything! After I gave up scrubbing her poor little red hand, I tried to dry it with a towel.

The towel got stuck.

We dried her off, she walked down the hall, her arm flailed and her hand hit the wall and then her hand got stuck to the wall. She pulled it off, walked into the Living Room and got her hand stuck to a stuffed bunny.

It's not good.

Do they make Goo-Be-Gone for Toddlers?

Zach says to me, "In hindsight maybe putting it on the floor in the closet wasn't such a good idea."

Hind Sight is always 20/20.


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