Sunday, September 20, 2009

Some things and some stuff

Saw a mouse in the kitchen a few nights ago while I was standing at the sink shoveling in some chocolate chip cookies. I saw him and he saw me. We both froze, then I crammed in the last cookie (whole) and leapt toward him. He ran back behind the fridge, so I put out a mousetrap by the fridge. No mouse in mousetrap the following morning. Saw the same mouse later that evening running amok in the living room. I moved the mousetrap to side of couch. The mouse came out from under the couch and sat right next to the mousetrap. (Mice are known for being stupid, and this little guy did nothing to dispel that stereotype.) I talked on the phone and ate my granola bar as he gave me the stink eye. I knew what was coming, so I held a couch pillow over one ear and turned up the volume on the phone. It was a short time later I heard the trap snap and then some Mouse-In-Throes-Of-Death sounds. I felt kind of bad that he was dead because he was very cute. Then I remembered that mice are disgusting, filthy, plague-ridden, germ-carrying, cupboard-raiding vermin. I didn't feel bad anymore. Just in case there were any more death throes, I waited an hour before I put rubber gloves on, covered them with plastic grocery bags, and disposed of him.


I might be the best form of birth control ever. I went grocery shopping today with my three children of the corn darling babies. In the produce section, which is fertile to begin with (hell, it's called produce *snicker*), I noticed a young couple in love. It was kind of sweet the way they were giving each other flirty, coy looks and casually touching each other - but not hanging off of each other, which I find extremely annoying. I'm not sure if it was the man or the woman who noticed me first, but they both saw me. Perhaps they noticed me because my two babies were quickly heading into Nap-time Nuclear Meltdown mode. Or perhaps it was because while these two sweethearts were picking out some apples, the Hurricane was busy touching all of the rest of the fruit. I felt it appropriate to say to him, in my usual robust manner, "UGH! Gross! Stop touching! Why? Because I just watched you pick your nose, and I don't think other people want your boogers on their fruit, that's why!" So, I'm sure lots of other people noticed us, but it was this young couple that I noticed noticing us. Here's what went down: the woman looked at me. The man looked at me. They looked at each other. They looked at my kids. They looked at each other. I could read their thoughts. They were both thinking:


Nothing screams, "Condom! IUD! Diaphragm! Put condoms on your IUD and your Diaphragm! This could be you!!" like three kids under five at the grocery store on Sunday.


  1. Funny, I always think that a mother of three kids under five has way more intestinal fortitude than I ever could.

  2. Oh my...we'd end up adopting a damn teenager...

    By the way: the comment you left on my blog....hysterical. I figured you'd be more likely to see my response had me cracking up.

  3. I hate mice! I have written a couple of posts about them. Nasty little vermin.

    And I'm so glad you were able to do a public service announcement for that young couple. They need to realize how good they've got it young and in love and without responsibility. *sigh*

  4. I consider my blog free birth control.

  5. Hilarious. I've had that happen, too. The young couples think the kids are so sweet, until one of them screams bloody murder or throws something from the cart. Good times.

  6. or a raging drug problem. but, obviously, not contraceptive drugs.

  7. i envision myself pre-kids; i am running through a grassy field with George Michael's "Freedom" playing as my soundtrack.

    that is how i see all young people who don't have kids.

  8. aha-ha-ha. nice one. i say, "so do i" but i mean it as, "i feel the same about my blog." and not, "yeah, i agree, YOUR blog is ALMOST SINGLE-BLOGGEDLY decreasing the amount of pregnancies in the world."

  9. or screaming bloody murder while trying to throw THEMSELVES out of the cart.


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