Sleepless Nights

Author: Veronica

  • Are The Mice Plotting?

    I was sitting on the couch last night, happily blogging and writing emails and OH MY FREAKING GOD, was that just a MOUSE?? SKITTERING PAST MY FEET INTO THE KITCHEN?!

    Visions of the other night rattle around in my head.

    I think. I am very good at thinking. No, my brain wasn’t playing tricks on me. Yes it was a mouse and it is now IN MY KITCHEN!

    Sneakily, I do my Sneaky McSneakerson thing and sneak into the kitchen, book in hand to use as a schwacker. The mouse is nowhere to be seen. I move shoes, the rubbish bin, the dog food container, nothing.

    No mouse to be seen.

    I sit back down, ready to finish reading and I hear it. Nibbling noises in the kitchen.

    NIBBLING.

    Just as I am about to get up and look, a SECOND mouse runs past. TWO MICE! IN MY KITCHEN!

    I stand up.

    I sneak. I can still hear the mouse nibbling. I am stealthy and silent. I am one with the floor.

    I am hoping like hell I don’t step on a mouse in bare feet.

    My schwacker and I slide around the corner….

    And discover an empty kitchen.

    AGAIN!

    Fucking McFuckerton Fucker Mice Fuckers.

    [Heh, I wonder if I will get googled for mice fuckers now]

    Arghhhhhhh!

    I can just see the mice, running laps around the house, just to watch me EXPLODE.

    Mouse A. ‘Alrighty guys, I will run out there and let her see me. Once she has seen me, I will disappear back here to you and Mouse B can do it’s thing’

    Mouse B. ‘What do I do again?’

    (audible sigh)

    Mouse A. ‘You run into the giant-space-that-is-empty, past the big-pink-thing-that-moves-and-swears and seriously, how do those things cope without FUR? I mean, really?’

    ‘…Anyway, past the pink-moving-thing, under the big-white-box-that-is-cold, over to the big-bag-of-mouse-heaven, grab some heavenly food, climb the tall thing and run over to the hole. Then come back here to us. We will take turns until the big-pink-thing-with-strange-fur explodes’

    Mouse B. ‘Okay then, who goes first?’

    [audible sigh]

    (It is here that I start to suspect that Mouse B is stupid and deserves to die)

    (Actually they all deserve to die)

    Mouse A. ‘Any other questions?’

    Mouse B. ‘Uh yes, um when do I…..’

    Mouse A. ‘Any OTHER questions?’

    [Mouse silence]

    Mouse A. ‘Okay we will begin. Word of advice though? DO NOT ALLOW YOURSELVES TO BE SCHWACKED, SMUSHED, SQUISHED, SQUASHED, SMOOSHED, OR TRODDEN ON.’

    ‘Everyone clear?’

    [Noises of mouse agreeing]

    Mouse A. ‘Okay then! Off we go…..’

    See? The mice ARE plotting. I am totally not going insane. Yet.

  • Little Ray of Sunshine.

    I have been down lately.

    Very down.

    We didn’t try and conceive this month, despite me knowing when I was ovulating. We just, didn’t try. I am still grieving for the loss of hope a little.

    However, not having the build up to my period will be nice. Knowing that I HAVE to stock up on tampons, rather than run out at 3am and silently curse the gods (and then curse Nathan when I realise that he no longer has a mobile phone and I can’t ring him to PICK ME UP SOME DAMN TAMPONS OR MY PMS? WILL KILL YOU AND I WON’T BE RESPONSIBLE).

    Ahem.

    However, I seem to have this small child who just won’t let me wallow.

    See, I was all sad (again, lets just blame it on hormones and feeling grief for friends) about not trying this month and OMG a whole bunch of stuff and Amy climbed into my lap.

    She started singing, ‘Mummeeeee holda babeeeeee, mummeeeeeee an babeeeeeee’ very softly as I hugged her.

    Then she pulled my head down, so my cheek was against her forehead, and told me quite sternly when I tried to move ‘No! Mummeee hugss pleas.’

    Then I died from the cute.

    Then she does things like this –

    She is OBVIOUSLY practising her regal look for when she marries a prince. Thankyou Nathan for taking this photo while I was out, getting a much needed sanity saving break. <3

    This one is classic though. This was taken this evening. At 9.30pm. 1.5 hours AFTER I put Amy to bed.

    Yes, those are indeed a pair of my underwear. Yes, she did indeed put them on herself. The pointing? She was asking to be placed back into bed, WHILE STILL WEARING THE UNDERWEAR.

    No, I didn’t let her keep them on.

    No, I have no idea why they were in her cupboard.

    This afternoon when I had to resettle her, I discovered her wearing a size 000 bodysuit around her waist and 2 singlets on each leg. I think it is time I did some serious teaching of what clothes go where.

    And how to put them away after you pull them out of the drawer.

    I love my daughter.

  • Children For Sale

    I was searching for a book I read as a kid, when I needed to press the back button.

    It was so good, I had to take a screenshot.

    Is that where all the children actually come from? Oztion?

    Damn, and all this time I thought it was The Stork.

    [Sorry about the picture quality. Resizing the image seemed to mess it up]

  • A Mouse Schwacking We Will Go.

    I was sitting in the bedroom this afternoon, talking to Nathan and I could hear a strange sound. First, I thought it was my ear popping. Then I thought that something I was sitting on was crinkling. Then I asked Nathan if he could hear it.

    He looked at me like I was stupid and said ‘Hear what?’.

    Much listening ensued and FINALLY, a noise, when Nathan was listening.

    I moved myself (stealthily) to the corner of the bedroom, where a bunch of clothes were piled on the floor (remember, I have no drawers yet). I slowly started moving things when SUDDENLY! JUST AS I SUSPECTED! There was A MOUSE!

    Now said mouse was actually a field mouse and oh my fucking god can those things run fast. I quickly threw a bowl upside down on top of it’s head to trap it (yes, there is a bowl in the bedroom. I regularly get late night nausea and getting out of bed is never my idea of a good time. Therefore I keep a bowl handy just in case. Yes, it does get thrown up in on occasion and yes, it does get washed regularly) and BAM! It was stuck.

    Or so I (stupidly) thought.

    Nathan handed me a bit of cardboard to slide under the bowl, so that we could move the mouse out to where the cats were.

    I slid the cardboard… and oh my fucking god can field mice run fast. They can also squeeze through a tiny freaking gap.

    It moved almost faster than I could see, out of the bedroom, into the hall and under the sheet I keep on Amy’s gate (the sheet is tied around the gate to stop Seven bothering Amy at 3am, or crapping in the bedroom).

    I held my bowl ready to be used as a schwacker as I moved the sheet, very very slowly.

    ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

    Went the mouse as it zipped past me and I cursed my sleepless reflexes.

    I chased it just in time to watch it disappear under the recliner. I haven’t run that fast in ages.

    Now, I was all for throwing the recliner across the lounge room so that I could schwack the damn mouse, but Nathan moved it slowly slowly (much too slowly for me, as I hopped up and down impatiently).

    And there was no mouse left. We did however, find the hole that the mouse disappeared into.

    Where were that cats, that I have been purposly keeping hungry just for this purpose? Um, they were in the kitchen. Looking for food. While I, A HUMAN, tried to chase down their mouse for them.

    *****

    Cue 3 hours later and I am sitting here writing emails and comments.

    ZIP ZIP ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

    A mouse flies (okay, so it didn’t really fly, but goddamn was it fast) out of our bedroom and disappears under a bag of clothing set aside for the Salvos.

    I screech at Nathan to get a cat, any cat, JUST GET A DAMN CAT, while I stand by the bag, ready to stomp (I’m not sure how I would have gone, I had bare feet) on any mouse trying to poke it’s nose out from underneath.

    Nathan appears with a cat and I whisk the bag away as Nathan drops the cat, DIRECTLY ON THE MOUSE.

    Now in it’s defence, said cat is still a kitten and she has probably never seen a mouse before. STILL you would think that she would do something other than look at us with a stupid expression while the mouse shimmied into a crack and disappeared.

    Stupid ass cat.

    So now, Nathan and I have a plan.

    We are each going to hold a schwacker (one of my shoes) while we slowly and steadily pick up items of clothing in our bedroom. There is a very good chance we may turn up a third mouse.

    In the event that we find a mouse (and god damn, we better find a mouse) we are going to schwack it on the head UNTIL IT IS DEAD.

    Then we are going to defile it’s dead body (please don’t tell the UN) by tying a string to it and teaching the kittens how to catch, kill and eat mice.

    We figure they need the lesson.

    I shall be back to report shortly. Like as soon as Amy goes to sleep and I can get into my bedroom without her seeing me through the doorway.

    *****

    Total letdown. No mice to schwack in the bedroom, not even a skitter or a scurry. The UN would be pleased. I however am not.

    I even had my piece of string ready.

    They better be careful though, because I am ready for them.

    Until then, maybe mice are just attracted to me?

  • My Favourite Teachers

    TopSchool Fundraisers is having a competition and they invited me to enter. The topic is ‘Your Favourite Teacher’. This post is written in repsonse to that.

    My Favourite Teachers.

    Dad,

    You taught me to tie knots that won’t come undone, showed me how to straighten a nail, how to use a hammer (without bashing my fingers), a drill and a level. How to tie a plumb line and how to mix mortar. Taught me to cook a ‘One Pot Wonder’ (lamb chops and layers of vegetables, with gravy, all cooked in one pan) and how to eat wallaby tails in a stew.

    You showed me that any cut can be fixed with electrical tape and more work, even if it did really need stitches. (No, it wasn’t my cut, it was his)

    Because of you, I can snare, kill and skin a rabbit ( I may possibly need a refresher lesson soonish though), I can bait a fish hook with worms (even if the worms do wiggle alarmingly), or grubs, or grasshoppers. I can land and gut fish (even if I excersise my right to have you gut them for me), I can cook them on an open fire and I can eat them without choking on bones (always a handy trait, that whole not choking thing) and the one time I did swallow the bones, you showed me that NOT freaking out is a good idea. (If you ever swallow bones and they get stuck, eat pieces of bread. The bread will shift the bones).

    He taught me to tell when edges weren’t straight (by letting me pick faults with his building) and how to play the guitar (I really needed to practise more). How to put up a tent and split wood.

    You showed me that life and death were intertwined as we raised animals for you to slaughter. I learned not to be a squeamish girl (I never got a chance to be one) as I watched you prepare animals for the table.

    You let me hold the torch (very badly) as we went looking for possums in the trees and I learned that possums eyes flash red at night (and that all possums should die die DIE).

    You even showed me that I wouldn’t melt in the rain (do you want to give Amy some lessons?) and that blackberry scratches will heal. You showed me how to spin for trout and how to carry the fish while it was still wiggling (your exact words? – DO NOT DROP THE FISH. You could have showed me the stick trick earlier, heh.).

    Thankyou.

    Mum taught me to read and write (and then got exasperated when I pinched the books she was reading and spent all my time with my nose in a book, rather than doing my chores). She taught me to count and tie my shoelaces and grow radishes (in the shape of a big V). She taught me to make my scones light and airy, to make muffins from scratch, pancakes from flour and water, and a meal from nothing (all very handy skills).

    She taught me to find and catch frogs and lizards, what wild orchids lood like and how to climb a tree. She showed me mud puddles and how to make a pinch pot from clay.

    She found frogspawn and let me take some in a jar to school, even though it probably killed her to watch her babies diappear off to a school, where children could KILL THEM BY ACCIDENT. We got to watch the tadpoles hatch from their eggs and grow into frogs.

    She taught me to budget and cook and how to be happy. She taught me to light a fire and to cook a meal on top of it.

    She showed me how to raise a baby joey in a pouch (yes, we did have a pet wallaby for a while. Eventually she disappeared back into the bush of her own accord. Someday I will find photos) and how to perform basic first aid on an animal.

    She taught me that it was indeed possible not to kill your children, no matter how annoyingly whiny they are being (teaching by example).

    Thanks Mum.

    I think at the end of the day, what I learned at home was so much more important to my life now, that anything I learned in school.

    It was my mother who was anal about spelling and grammar and made me say perfect, rather than perfickt and ask rather than arks, my father who showed me what good maths can do (learned on a plank of wood, as we worked out measurements for the new bedrooms) and how to put it into a real life situation.

    I learned so much from my parents. More than I ever did from inside a classroom (and I was a straight A student).