Moment of Truth: No, I Don’t Actually Want to Be a Vampire

I told my husband he’s never allowed to go business travel ever again. EVER. Because something always happens while he’s gone that I am not equipped to deal with don’t want to handle.

• First, the boys clogged a toilet.
• Another trip another toilet.
• Then the basement flooded. A foot or so of water.

That’s not even the worst. Okay, technically, it was the worst because stuff was ruined, and it was expensive to fix.

The worst was…

• A flippin’ bat in our bedroom in the around 5 AM.

I wish I had reacted like this:

But no.

I reacted like this:

Please just don’t get in my hair.

I screamed “I’m don’t want to be a vampire anymore!” (a whisper scream because Scout’s room is right across the room from ours and waking the baby is never an option) and ran out of the room. I did pause to pull Scout’s bedroom door shut (read: motherly instinct to save the baby).

In my panic, I did have some coherent thoughts, such as…

• Vampires don’t like light, so turn on all the lights!
• Maybe the bat is Bill Compton, and I can reason with him.
• Isn’t a bat just a mouse with wings? Maybe Esme Kitty will catch it. (The answer is no. My lazy cat will not catch it. Black cats don’t catch other evil creatures because they’re on the same team.)
• Call Dad.

Yes, that’s right. Even women in their mid-30s need their dads sometimes.

Then the bat flew into the living room. I couldn’t wait for my dad, and I had to take matters into my own hands.

With a few Mission Impossible-esque somersaults, I made it to the front and back doors and opened them. After 5 minutes of taking cover from a bat that didn’t like ceiling fans and more whispering screaming from me, the bat finally made it outside.

 

I Knew It…Even Babies Hate Pumpkins

It’s that time of year. Pumpkin flavor has returned.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Have you seen the 16 Reasons You Should Never Reenact Pinterest Photos?

There’s a special section on pumpkins (ick!) and babies (awwww!).

Never will I ever put Scout in a pumpkin. Here’s why:

These poor, poor babies. Not one of them looks happy. They’re all crying except for the third one from the top, but I think that’s only because he was put in last, and he’s still a little dazed.

Or he has an escape plan.

So remember this picture the next time you see a pumpkin.

Just say no.

My Dog Ate Your Bird. Oops.

Last week I blogged about the downside to being a stay-at-home mom, which is killing bugs yourself instead of having your husband do it.

There is another downside: dealing with birds.

Ozzy Pups caught a bird in our backyard. It was only a matter of time before this happened.* He’s fast, jumps high, and our neighbors feed all the birds and squirrels constantly so they’re fat and slow.

*Ozzy may have killed a squirrel last summer, but because I didn’t actually see it happen, I just tell myself the squirrel fell from a tree, the fall killed it, and Ozzy just found him.

A wounded, bleeding bird was in my backyard.

I swear the bird looked exactly like this. Book and all.

I should have celebrated and chalked up a point for me in the war against birds, but instead, I felt bad for it.

So what did I do?

I called Kiefer so he could come home and kill it.*

*To put it out of its misery, not because I hate birds.

He refused. So I gave the bird some water and kept Ozzy inside to save the bird from further torment.

Two hours later, the bird flew away.

*I’m not sure how because I’m pretty sure there were more feathers in the yard than on the bird.

Three hours later, my car was covered in bird poo. Coincidence? I think not.

Stay-At-Home Mom Battles Bugs and Wins!

Scout is just over 3 months old, and I love staying home to take care of her and soak up as much of her cuteness as possible.

But being at home also stinks.

Here’s why:

Bugs

I hate bugs. All of them. And last week they teamed up on me.

Never have I ever been stung by a bee, so I’m especially scared of them because I am terrified by the unknown.

I mean, look at childbirth. I’d never been through that before and that was awful. I’m sure bee stings are equally as awful.

So the bee is buzzing around the kitchen window.

I wish the bee looked this friendly.

I decided to grab some paper towels to wrap around my hand to protect it, so I could reach next to the bee to unlatch and open the window.

One problem. There was a spider on the paper towels.

Seriously? Seriously.

A bee and a spider? At the same time. Life is so unfair.

I’ve read Scary Stores to Tell in the Dark, and I know what happens when spiders bite you. This:

So I had a choice to make: bee sting or spider bite.

I decided to take on the bee sans paper towel shield. Luckily, the bee flew out the window without a stinging incident.

Then I ripped off the paper towel and dropped it in the trash and took it outside.

But that’s the downside to being a stay-at-home mom. You have to risk your life to take care of the creepy crawlies yourself.

Self-Flushing Toilets: A Woman’s Worst Enemy

I recently decided not to return to work, so I can stay home with Scout. Now that’s she’s smiling sans gas, I don’t want to miss one second of her cuteness.

I’ll miss my coworkers, but one thing I will not miss is the work restroom. Specifically, the self-flushing toilets.

I don’t really understand self-flushing toilets. Are people so lazy they really can’t be bothered to flush a toilet?

Just to be clear: you just press down.

 

So an engineer decided to take out his anger at nonflushing people on all of us. The engineer said, “You know what would be funny? If the toilet flushed randomly, giving people everywhere wet bottoms.”

The toilets at my work flush without warning. And they flush with such force that water sprays up. All over the toilet seat if you’re lucky, and all over your behind if you’re unlucky.

While I was pregnant, it was even worse. I’d run to the bathroom heaving with morning sickness, and while I was leaning over the toilet, it would flush, so I’d have to jump up mid-gag to avoid a face full of toilet water.

Thank goodness I only had morning sickness the first trimester. In the third trimester, there’d have been no jumping up.

Oooooooor…maybe self-flushing toilets aren’t because of lazy people. Maybe it has something to do with germs? Some genius said, “People touch the toilet handle with dirty hands, so let’s have it flush automatically.”

If that’s the case, why doesn’t the stall door open automatically? Imagine the trouble that would cause: bathroom stall doors opening randomly midpee. It would be chaos.

But a wet tushie…that’s so much better.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Those were the days. Now, people look at you funny when you bring your 9-year-old into the comfy-chair breastfeeding room. Haters.”—Pegoleg