Wean and weep. That has been the natural progression of things since I began weaning Chloe. If you had told me a year ago that I would be devastated to reach the end of our breastfeeding journey I would have called you crazy. After all, being a breastfeeding and working mother also means you are a pumping mother. And I think I have expressed here that pumping is no fun - no fun at all.
I started mixing in two ounces of cow's milk into Chloe's cup twice a day beginning at eleven months just to get her started. After her first birthday I knocked out the two pumping sessions I have slaved over at work for the past year. It is nice to not have to worry about packing up the pump, disinfecting the parts, transporting the precious cargo, etc. But after I quit I realized the silver lining to pumping at work was closing my door and taking the time to appreciate that I was doing something good - no, make that great - for my baby. It was nice to take a forced break since I usually rarely even stop for a bathroom or lunch break. And it became surprisingly second nature. It was just another daily chore that I didn't especially love doing but did anyway like blow drying my hair or flossing my teeth.
It was strange, though, because immediately after I quit pumping at work I found myself to be just... kind of sad. The minute I got home from work I would feed Chloe, partly because I was about to explode and partly because I just couldn't wait to cuddle up with her. Since that was causing her to be too full to eat a proper dinner, I had to quit that feeding session, too. It seemed like with every feeding that I cut out I kept getting a little sadder. Like the amount of milk I produced was an exact measure of the amount of happiness I felt inside. Trust me, I know this sounds crazy to any person who hasn't been here before, but if you have been here before odds are that you are sobbing at your desk just reading this.
Two nights ago I cut out the night time feeding, and last night I secretly cried before I fell asleep. I fed Chloe this morning and stared at her the entire time. I love how she looks up at me and smiles. I love how she is forced to cuddle with me for that short time. I love that I can sooth her under any circumstance. I love how happy I feel to know that even if I don't know what the hell I'm doing most of the time, I know that I'm doing the perfect thing at that moment.
I decided to keep feeding her in the morning until I leave for Washington D.C. in two weeks. I know it will be so sad to call it quits for good. But I have said over and over that I don't want to be that lady at the playground with a toddler screaming "Nursy, nursy!!!" while tugging at my shirt. I know that I have to quit before she begins to demand it and doesn't understand why I am refusing her.
Also, I know that my hormones have a lot to blame for all of the sadness. Many women don't develop postnatal depression until they begin weaning their babies. How wonderful it is to receive those extra doses of natural oxytocin! We should all be so lucky! I know it will take some time for everything to settle, and in the meantime I will be replacing my old pumping sessions with a brisk walk at lunch to clear my head and help boost my energy. And hopefully someday down the road I will have another baby with whom I will share that incredible bond.
Monday, February 14, 2011
An Answered Prayer
Thursday night we had a health scare when Chloe's body decided to conduct the perfect storm. She had a yeast infection in her belly button and *ahem* nether region, an allergic reaction to strawberries, cold symptoms, and most frighteningly, a huge and swollen belly. I called our pediatrician after hours. She was baffled by Chloe's swollen stomach and referred us to the after hours clinic known as G.R.A.P.E.S. When we put Chloe in her car seat she began to gag an gasp for air. It lasted for about 10-15 seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. We were terrified!
The short ride to the clinic felt like eternity. It is easy to let your mind go to the scariest places when you are a parent. I kept thinking how much cancer must be in Chloe's belly to make it so big. How long did we have? Would this be our last trip with her in the car? Seriously. I have never been so afraid.
When we got to the waiting room Chloe started tooting in Paul's lap. She kept tooting here and there for the hour long wait. When we finally got in to see the doctor, Chloe's belly had gone back to its normal size and was soft to the touch. The doctor looked at us like we were a little crazy, but we were like no, we swear it was huge an hour ago!! The doctor thinks she may be getting gassy from the cow's milk we have been giving her. She thought the gagging was from the mucous from her cold. She thought she was fussy because of the gas and her cold. She thought the shots she had may be giving her a small rash. I think it may be the strawberries. But either way, there was an explanation for all of her symptoms, and to say that we were relieved is the biggest understatement in the world.
Before we left for the clinic I fell to my knees in our bedroom and prayed desperately that it was God's will for Chloe to be a healthy little girl. I prayed that I wouldn't have to see my baby in a hospital bed until she is a grown woman holding a baby of her own. I prayed that we were just being crazy, nervous, new parents, and that the doctor would laugh with us and send us home rest assured. I've been so distant from God lately, caught up in our daily routine, leaving Him out of so many decisions... but there He was. A steady rock. I sought the Lord, and He answered me. He answered my prayer in the way I hoped He would. I know that prayers aren't always answered the way you think they should be answered, and I'm thankful that I am not left questioning God's plan at a time when I'm often forgetting to thank Him for His plan in the first place. It shouldn't take moments of fear to lead me back to the Lord. His praise should always be on my lips. And isn't that my job as a mother? To teach Chloe to be a faithful servant; to trust God with all of her hopes, dreams, fears, and worries; and to thank Him every day for the most generous gift of all - eternal life through Jesus Christ, our savior.
The short ride to the clinic felt like eternity. It is easy to let your mind go to the scariest places when you are a parent. I kept thinking how much cancer must be in Chloe's belly to make it so big. How long did we have? Would this be our last trip with her in the car? Seriously. I have never been so afraid.
When we got to the waiting room Chloe started tooting in Paul's lap. She kept tooting here and there for the hour long wait. When we finally got in to see the doctor, Chloe's belly had gone back to its normal size and was soft to the touch. The doctor looked at us like we were a little crazy, but we were like no, we swear it was huge an hour ago!! The doctor thinks she may be getting gassy from the cow's milk we have been giving her. She thought the gagging was from the mucous from her cold. She thought she was fussy because of the gas and her cold. She thought the shots she had may be giving her a small rash. I think it may be the strawberries. But either way, there was an explanation for all of her symptoms, and to say that we were relieved is the biggest understatement in the world.
Before we left for the clinic I fell to my knees in our bedroom and prayed desperately that it was God's will for Chloe to be a healthy little girl. I prayed that I wouldn't have to see my baby in a hospital bed until she is a grown woman holding a baby of her own. I prayed that we were just being crazy, nervous, new parents, and that the doctor would laugh with us and send us home rest assured. I've been so distant from God lately, caught up in our daily routine, leaving Him out of so many decisions... but there He was. A steady rock. I sought the Lord, and He answered me. He answered my prayer in the way I hoped He would. I know that prayers aren't always answered the way you think they should be answered, and I'm thankful that I am not left questioning God's plan at a time when I'm often forgetting to thank Him for His plan in the first place. It shouldn't take moments of fear to lead me back to the Lord. His praise should always be on my lips. And isn't that my job as a mother? To teach Chloe to be a faithful servant; to trust God with all of her hopes, dreams, fears, and worries; and to thank Him every day for the most generous gift of all - eternal life through Jesus Christ, our savior.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Chloe - 12 Months
At her one year check-up Chloe weighed 20 pounds, 9 ounces. We thought she was more like 22 pounds. She seems so hefty lately. She was in the 40th to 50th percentile for height and weight. Her head circumference has finally caught up and she is now in the 60th percentile. People are so funny. Those who have babies Chloe's age usually say Chloe is such a peanut. People who haven't had a baby in quite some time think she looks big for her age. She is really just average, though. She had to have four shots, and while she screamed her head off she ended up doing okay in the long run. The doctor said Chloe was right on track and is a healthy little girl. Chloe loves middle aged men - anyone old enough to be someone's grandpa, really - and it is a bonus if you have facial hair. Well, this doctor had both things going for him, and Chloe was just mesmerized by him.
So much has been happening with Chloe over the past month that I have been at a loss for words. She has pretty much ditched baby-Chloe and is moving ahead full force as kid-Chloe. At twelve months Chloe has finally started to take some steps. Her personal best is about five or six feet, but her primary mode of transportation is still crawling. She is so fast that I really can't blame her. For a while there she got confused about whether she wanted to walk or crawl and came up with a quasi crawl wherein her butt protruded straight into the air, knees locked, hands and feet on the floor. It was very entertaining. At one point she decided to dance while she quasi crawled and I think she might have a future in rap videos - pop, drop, and lock it! Don't worry, I'll never say that again.
The other thing is that she just looks like a kid these days. She has four top teeth and two bottom teeth with two more bottom teeth popping through. So many teeth! They really make her look like a big girl. And her hair. She has so much hair now! I put a little pony tail in the back the other day, but Paul said it looked like a rat tail. It was adorable and hilarious and I loved it!
Chloe has really started communicating with us. She understands a few commands with the most common being "give that to Mommy, please" because she still insists on putting everything in her mouth. There are a few things that she has snuck into her mouth that are just so terrible that I don't care to admit them here. A few other phrases include: roll the ball to Mommy, Griffin, or Daddy; come here; are you hungry; do you want some milk; do a flip; do you want your cup; and a few others. The other day she was pointing and grunting over and over so I followed her finger, and it turns out she was pointing at blueberries. No surprise there. But she was so thrilled with herself for showing me what she wanted. Big girl!
Doing flips is her new trick. I'll tell her to do a flip and she will put her head and hands on the floor and stick her butt straight in the air while she waits for me to flip her over the rest of the way. Then she claps for herself. I swear it is the cutest thing that I have ever seen in my whole life and every time I just want to scoop her up and kiss her a million times.
You can tell that we maul Chloe at home because she is famous for giving what I refer to as nail-gun kisses. She usually leans in for a kiss and then proceeds to give you fifteen more. She says "mmbah, mmbah, mmbah" when she give kisses. And she gives a million hugs. She is so lovey.
I know I mentioned that Chloe climbs everything, but lately she has been out of control. She uses anything as stepping stool with the most common things being Griffin and her chair. She will push her chair up to the end table and then proceed to climb on top of the end table. Chloe had woken up super early one Saturday and Paul and I were lying on the couch while she played just "resting our eyes a little" and when I looked up she was freaking standing on the end table!!!! Crazy girl. We have to be more careful.
Here are a few pics of Chloe during her dreaded monthly photo shoot:
So much has been happening with Chloe over the past month that I have been at a loss for words. She has pretty much ditched baby-Chloe and is moving ahead full force as kid-Chloe. At twelve months Chloe has finally started to take some steps. Her personal best is about five or six feet, but her primary mode of transportation is still crawling. She is so fast that I really can't blame her. For a while there she got confused about whether she wanted to walk or crawl and came up with a quasi crawl wherein her butt protruded straight into the air, knees locked, hands and feet on the floor. It was very entertaining. At one point she decided to dance while she quasi crawled and I think she might have a future in rap videos - pop, drop, and lock it! Don't worry, I'll never say that again.
The other thing is that she just looks like a kid these days. She has four top teeth and two bottom teeth with two more bottom teeth popping through. So many teeth! They really make her look like a big girl. And her hair. She has so much hair now! I put a little pony tail in the back the other day, but Paul said it looked like a rat tail. It was adorable and hilarious and I loved it!
Chloe has really started communicating with us. She understands a few commands with the most common being "give that to Mommy, please" because she still insists on putting everything in her mouth. There are a few things that she has snuck into her mouth that are just so terrible that I don't care to admit them here. A few other phrases include: roll the ball to Mommy, Griffin, or Daddy; come here; are you hungry; do you want some milk; do a flip; do you want your cup; and a few others. The other day she was pointing and grunting over and over so I followed her finger, and it turns out she was pointing at blueberries. No surprise there. But she was so thrilled with herself for showing me what she wanted. Big girl!
Doing flips is her new trick. I'll tell her to do a flip and she will put her head and hands on the floor and stick her butt straight in the air while she waits for me to flip her over the rest of the way. Then she claps for herself. I swear it is the cutest thing that I have ever seen in my whole life and every time I just want to scoop her up and kiss her a million times.
You can tell that we maul Chloe at home because she is famous for giving what I refer to as nail-gun kisses. She usually leans in for a kiss and then proceeds to give you fifteen more. She says "mmbah, mmbah, mmbah" when she give kisses. And she gives a million hugs. She is so lovey.
I know I mentioned that Chloe climbs everything, but lately she has been out of control. She uses anything as stepping stool with the most common things being Griffin and her chair. She will push her chair up to the end table and then proceed to climb on top of the end table. Chloe had woken up super early one Saturday and Paul and I were lying on the couch while she played just "resting our eyes a little" and when I looked up she was freaking standing on the end table!!!! Crazy girl. We have to be more careful.
Here are a few pics of Chloe during her dreaded monthly photo shoot:
Like, thank God you are out of monthly stickers, Mom.
I'm walkin' outta here!
Monday, February 7, 2011
Tick Tock
I'm not sure what it is about having a new cell phone that always makes me feel like I'm so freaking cool. I can remember when I had my Nextel "skinned" in this clear red plastic, and I would sit there in my Pontiac Sunbird with the window down taking very important high school level phone calls and two-ways as blatantly as possible. One minute, let me just flip open my super cool phone, hang my head out the window a little, and then speak very loudly into this cutting edge cellular device that my parents are no doubt paying for. Unfortunately, this behavior didn't stop in high school. Nooo. When I got my pink Blackberry 2.5 years ago I couldn't shake that very important person feeling.
But of course all good things must come to an end. By the time my two year contract is up I can't wait to get rid of my cell phone. Right now I hate my Stupid Pink Blackberry. I let Chloe chew on it and "text" her heart out. I've been one of those faithful Verizon customers who has been waiting and waiting... and waiting for Verizon to pick up the iPhone. And now here I am on the final stretch to iPhone ownership. I preordered my little beauty on Thursday, and the tracking information says it'll be here some time over the next three hours. I have to sign on delivery and I mustn't take a shower, or give in to any other personal callings, until I sign for that package.
Man I am going to look so cool taking fake phone calls in the elevator!! Sorry, Chloe. Your Mommy is such a dork!
But of course all good things must come to an end. By the time my two year contract is up I can't wait to get rid of my cell phone. Right now I hate my Stupid Pink Blackberry. I let Chloe chew on it and "text" her heart out. I've been one of those faithful Verizon customers who has been waiting and waiting... and waiting for Verizon to pick up the iPhone. And now here I am on the final stretch to iPhone ownership. I preordered my little beauty on Thursday, and the tracking information says it'll be here some time over the next three hours. I have to sign on delivery and I mustn't take a shower, or give in to any other personal callings, until I sign for that package.
Man I am going to look so cool taking fake phone calls in the elevator!! Sorry, Chloe. Your Mommy is such a dork!
Friday, February 4, 2011
SNOWMAGEDDON!!
In the midst of our seasonal depression we were slammed with 16+/- inches of snow overnight. Paul had considered going to work in the morning even after seeing his car.
It was fun to have a family snow day, but we are still looking forward to the spring over here!
I talked him into staying. The news reporters were saying that if you go in a ditch that you will be stranded there for hours because crews were not responding to run offs. The newscasters were so excited to have something other to report about on Groundhogs Day. They were having a competition to see how many times they could use the word impact incorrectly in a sentence. But I digress. Paul shoveled and shoveled and shoveled. Finally, when he was almost done, Chloe and I came out to play!
This is what our street looked like the morning after the snowpocalypse.
Chloe and I were trying to help shovel the sidewalk by pushing the snow harder into the cement.
Chloe's friend Fisher came out to play! Fisher is almost exactly one year older than Chloe. He lives directly across the street from us and they often have play dates while their mommies and daddies cook and drink adult beverages.
It was fun to have a family snow day, but we are still looking forward to the spring over here!
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Mouse House: Update
Things usually get worse before they get better. That is what they say. And this saying has certainly rung true around our house lately! Paul and I have been dreaming of taking a vacation. A real life vacation. One where we leave Chloe with her grandparents and travel to an island somewhere where the pina coladas are frozen and endless; however, when I got to thinking about leaving Chloe for a week my heart sunk. I realized that I would probably enjoy the first two or three days. Imagine being able to sleep in past 6:00 a.m.?! But then I quickly realized that I would be devastated for the remainder of the trip. We decided to look into a trip to Florida instead. We could bring Chloe and rent a house and just relax on the beach as a family. We realized that this option was probably going to cost just as much as a trip to the Caribbean, and it would mean prolonging our plans to remodel the basement. The trip was still under consideration until a family of mice decided they too would take a vacation... in our house.
This year, instead of taking a vacation, we will be remodeling our basement. It turns out that the trail of mouse shit and piss runs the entire length of our basement acoustical tile ceiling from the enclosed front porch to our oven. And it doesn't stop there. Yesterday, Paul noticed that the bottom of our oven was covered in a thick layer of... could it be? No. It can't be. I won't let it be. It was. It definitely was. It was charred mouse shit, which means that we have been smoking our food with mouse shit for God knows how long. If you didn't just throw up a little in your mouth then you aren't human. We also found a few pieces of Griffin's dog food, whose bowl lies within four feet of the bottom of the oven. On their vacation, the mice feasted on all you can eat dog food while clubbing in our oven!!!
We were dry heaving. Livid. We are so over these mice, we need a new word for over (wink, wink). Words can't explain the anger you feel while you suck charred mouse poop from the bottom of your oven with a shop vac, and bleach every inch of everything in sight for the seventeenth time. Finally, we ran the clean function on the oven. Toward the end of the clean cycle the oven started shooting ash into the air, and before we knew it our entire first floor was covered in ash. Mouse poop ash to be specific. So I sent Paul and Chloe upstairs and vacuumed every single surface of our house, dusted, polished, disinfected every. inch. of. our. house.
We have to decide whether or not we will be getting a new oven. It can be very dangerous to have a mouse living in your oven according to my friend the Internet. He says that he mice can chew through wires creating a fire hazard. We are praying that we don't find any more surprises. We are praying that the last step is to tear our the entire basement ceiling and start the remodel that we have been talking about ever since we moved into our house. The Internet says if we don't pick up the mouse poop that the mice will want to come back, because they can't get enough of their own musty smell.
Ever since we plugged up the hole in our foundation and plugged in the ultrasonic mouse repeller, we haven't caught any mice. While I hate to even admit the number here because it is so incredibly disgusting, our total kill count is nine. Nine mice, plus probably a few stuck to glue traps rotting in our walls. It is amazing the things that you become an expert in throughout life. Our new expertise is mouse extermination. My advice to you is if you ever see a solitary mouse or mouse turd in your house, stop what you are doing. Stop everything. Examine your house from basement to attic. Look through your pantry, your blankets, your appliances because you can bet - THERE IS MORE THAN ONE MOUSE!!!
This year, instead of taking a vacation, we will be remodeling our basement. It turns out that the trail of mouse shit and piss runs the entire length of our basement acoustical tile ceiling from the enclosed front porch to our oven. And it doesn't stop there. Yesterday, Paul noticed that the bottom of our oven was covered in a thick layer of... could it be? No. It can't be. I won't let it be. It was. It definitely was. It was charred mouse shit, which means that we have been smoking our food with mouse shit for God knows how long. If you didn't just throw up a little in your mouth then you aren't human. We also found a few pieces of Griffin's dog food, whose bowl lies within four feet of the bottom of the oven. On their vacation, the mice feasted on all you can eat dog food while clubbing in our oven!!!
We were dry heaving. Livid. We are so over these mice, we need a new word for over (wink, wink). Words can't explain the anger you feel while you suck charred mouse poop from the bottom of your oven with a shop vac, and bleach every inch of everything in sight for the seventeenth time. Finally, we ran the clean function on the oven. Toward the end of the clean cycle the oven started shooting ash into the air, and before we knew it our entire first floor was covered in ash. Mouse poop ash to be specific. So I sent Paul and Chloe upstairs and vacuumed every single surface of our house, dusted, polished, disinfected every. inch. of. our. house.
We have to decide whether or not we will be getting a new oven. It can be very dangerous to have a mouse living in your oven according to my friend the Internet. He says that he mice can chew through wires creating a fire hazard. We are praying that we don't find any more surprises. We are praying that the last step is to tear our the entire basement ceiling and start the remodel that we have been talking about ever since we moved into our house. The Internet says if we don't pick up the mouse poop that the mice will want to come back, because they can't get enough of their own musty smell.
Ever since we plugged up the hole in our foundation and plugged in the ultrasonic mouse repeller, we haven't caught any mice. While I hate to even admit the number here because it is so incredibly disgusting, our total kill count is nine. Nine mice, plus probably a few stuck to glue traps rotting in our walls. It is amazing the things that you become an expert in throughout life. Our new expertise is mouse extermination. My advice to you is if you ever see a solitary mouse or mouse turd in your house, stop what you are doing. Stop everything. Examine your house from basement to attic. Look through your pantry, your blankets, your appliances because you can bet - THERE IS MORE THAN ONE MOUSE!!!
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Mouse House
I'm hoping that some day in the near future Paul and I will look back and laugh at the situation we are currently facing; however, as it stands, we are in the midst of an epidemic, and the resolution is still uncertain. It all started last Thursday when my Mom was packing up our leftovers from dinner into Tupperware when she paused, leaned down to get a better look, and concluded that yes, those were indeed mouse turds in our Tupperware cabinet. Ew. Sick. The diagnosis was gross and disappointing, but we were optimistic. Once we covered the dog food and swept up a few crumbs off the floor there was really nothing else to worry about, right?
So the next day Paul brought home some glue traps. We put a little peanut butter in the center and sat the trap behind the oven. About two hours later we heard some scratching from the kitchen. Alas! The great white hunter has struck! We tip toed to the kitchen to find a sweet little mouse trying to scurry away to his freedom. Paul put on his gloves and brought the little guy out to the trash. We hoped that maybe he would survive until the trash came on Monday, and he would have a new life in the landfill where there is lots of great decomposing food to pick from. We decided to set up another trap just to be sure we got them all.
First thing in the morning we checked the traps, but to our dismay the peanut butter was licked from the traps, and the one we set up in the attic had disappeared entirely! We were confused. What exactly were we dealing with?
We would later come to find out that the first mouse we caught was Mr. Bojangles himself. It turns out that early Friday morning a jury of his peers had found him guilty of involuntary extermination for his act of pooping in the humans' Tupperware, thereby revealing the secret colony location. The punishment for such crime was death by mousetrap. So Friday evening his friends and family cried as Mr. Bojangles walked the Green Mile to his immanent and painful death on a... safe and humane sticky glue trap? Rejoice! The mice laughed. We have tricked the humans yet again. They will believe they have caught the mouse and will leave us to our vices. Okay, I'm getting carried away with this story, but it is so easy to imagine them sitting around a Diet Coke can burn barrel keeping warm in blankets made of Chloe's missing socks, just plotting their next attack.
We decided to step up our game and set up some kill traps. We caught two more mice within a few hours. We set the traps again. At this point I should say that mice are really a lot smarter than I could have ever imagined. The mice quickly learned to lick the peanut butter from the trap without actually stepping on the trap. Again, we were confused. Could they really just lick the peanut butter from the trap so easily? Or did we have a squirrel or raccoon in our attic, too? We decided to put some flour on the floor to see if we could find any prints. This was our brother-in-law Chad's idea, which stemmed from hours of watching Paranormal State, Ghost Hunters, etc. We later would find no prints in the flour. These mice brought their A-Game.
The Internet suggested that we set the trap perpendicular to the wall with the bait closest to the wall. This increased our kill rate from about 25% to about 50%. By Sunday night we had caught and killed an average of two mice per day. That's a lot of mice. We were getting discouraged. My Mom feared that the mice may be nesting in our house. We spent the entire day cleaning out every single box and corner to ensure that the mice weren't nesting in our personal belongings. Then the Internet insisted that the only way to stop the mice was to find their primary access point.
A survey of the exterior indicated that the gaping hole in our foundation in the front of our house served as a warm and inviting entrance to our humble abode. And the trail of mouse poo and pee that was left along the ceiling tiles in our basement all the way to our oven further confirms (we hope) this is their primary point of entry. We are stuffing up the hole today, which brings the situation to the present.
I couldn't sleep last night just thinking of those sick little critters crawling through our walls. It is hard to feel comfortable in our own home, and we are really on edge. We are generally pretty clean people. I mean, I make it a point to sanitize Chloe's toys every two weeks, I bleach the kitchen within an inch of its life whenever we handle raw chicken, and I even sanitize the handles on our doors and cabinets on a regular basis. I never dreamed that we would be at war with rodents. Ugh. Anyway, please leave a comment or send me an email if you have any advice for us. And please don't tell me how you found a dead mouse in your house because you followed a trail of ants to the carcass. And please pray for us. It has been a weird couple of days.
So the next day Paul brought home some glue traps. We put a little peanut butter in the center and sat the trap behind the oven. About two hours later we heard some scratching from the kitchen. Alas! The great white hunter has struck! We tip toed to the kitchen to find a sweet little mouse trying to scurry away to his freedom. Paul put on his gloves and brought the little guy out to the trash. We hoped that maybe he would survive until the trash came on Monday, and he would have a new life in the landfill where there is lots of great decomposing food to pick from. We decided to set up another trap just to be sure we got them all.
First thing in the morning we checked the traps, but to our dismay the peanut butter was licked from the traps, and the one we set up in the attic had disappeared entirely! We were confused. What exactly were we dealing with?
We would later come to find out that the first mouse we caught was Mr. Bojangles himself. It turns out that early Friday morning a jury of his peers had found him guilty of involuntary extermination for his act of pooping in the humans' Tupperware, thereby revealing the secret colony location. The punishment for such crime was death by mousetrap. So Friday evening his friends and family cried as Mr. Bojangles walked the Green Mile to his immanent and painful death on a... safe and humane sticky glue trap? Rejoice! The mice laughed. We have tricked the humans yet again. They will believe they have caught the mouse and will leave us to our vices. Okay, I'm getting carried away with this story, but it is so easy to imagine them sitting around a Diet Coke can burn barrel keeping warm in blankets made of Chloe's missing socks, just plotting their next attack.
We decided to step up our game and set up some kill traps. We caught two more mice within a few hours. We set the traps again. At this point I should say that mice are really a lot smarter than I could have ever imagined. The mice quickly learned to lick the peanut butter from the trap without actually stepping on the trap. Again, we were confused. Could they really just lick the peanut butter from the trap so easily? Or did we have a squirrel or raccoon in our attic, too? We decided to put some flour on the floor to see if we could find any prints. This was our brother-in-law Chad's idea, which stemmed from hours of watching Paranormal State, Ghost Hunters, etc. We later would find no prints in the flour. These mice brought their A-Game.
The Internet suggested that we set the trap perpendicular to the wall with the bait closest to the wall. This increased our kill rate from about 25% to about 50%. By Sunday night we had caught and killed an average of two mice per day. That's a lot of mice. We were getting discouraged. My Mom feared that the mice may be nesting in our house. We spent the entire day cleaning out every single box and corner to ensure that the mice weren't nesting in our personal belongings. Then the Internet insisted that the only way to stop the mice was to find their primary access point.
A survey of the exterior indicated that the gaping hole in our foundation in the front of our house served as a warm and inviting entrance to our humble abode. And the trail of mouse poo and pee that was left along the ceiling tiles in our basement all the way to our oven further confirms (we hope) this is their primary point of entry. We are stuffing up the hole today, which brings the situation to the present.
I couldn't sleep last night just thinking of those sick little critters crawling through our walls. It is hard to feel comfortable in our own home, and we are really on edge. We are generally pretty clean people. I mean, I make it a point to sanitize Chloe's toys every two weeks, I bleach the kitchen within an inch of its life whenever we handle raw chicken, and I even sanitize the handles on our doors and cabinets on a regular basis. I never dreamed that we would be at war with rodents. Ugh. Anyway, please leave a comment or send me an email if you have any advice for us. And please don't tell me how you found a dead mouse in your house because you followed a trail of ants to the carcass. And please pray for us. It has been a weird couple of days.
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