Eat Your Wheaties!

You definitely have to eat your Wheaties to live in this ol' house! In fact, I've been through so much lately with the house that I've decided to nominate myself for the cover of the Wheaties box. I really think it's warranted. To go through the mental, physical, and emotional anguish (all while pregnant may I remind you) of living in a run-down 140 year old house and still be standing is quite the accomplishment! Oh, yes, we are constantly shelling out cash faster than Rhett can earn it and there have been more than a few psychotic screaming/crying episodes and poor BFG didn't get to sleep in her room for weeks because it was all of 90 degrees upstairs. But we are still standing. I'd like to see if Kobe, or Favre, or Peyton could live like this!


And what brings on this conquering attitude you ask? I'd be glad to tell you all about how I killed a baby snake INSIDE my house last week. Who knew I had it in me? But don't tell General Mills about how I called Rhett right afterward (still holding the bloody knife) crying hysterically screaming at him that "I was so done with this house." Yeah, that might blow my chances at the Wheaties cover shot.

Trying to remember if I have ever in my life eaten a bowl of Wheaties,
Mama Said

My Sweet Baby

My sweet baby two weeks ago. I wish I could see her every week!
Now if only we had a name . . .

Now THAT Was A Bad Idea!

Seriously, I wonder about myself. I think I could possibly be certified as an idiot.

Night before last, I heard our 100th mouse in the corner of our bedroom. Yes, the corner right by my head where we always hear the mice first, which stands to reason this may be where they are getting in but we have yet to do anything about it. The mouse was eating something very loudly in the wee hours of the morning but alas, it was not the poison packet lying under the dresser.

So, I get one of my fabulous ideas. I could tell the mouse had not found the kitchen yet. I suggested to Rhett that we put peanut butter on a fresh poison packet and put it right in the corner for the night last night and I'd make sure it was cleaned up before we let the dog out the next morning. I knew hearing it eat the poison would keep us up, but as long as it ate it we were golden. Ingenious, right?

At 1:30 in the morning when the nibbling started, I still thought I was extraordinarily smart. The mouse (or mice, I've heard they run in pairs) spent the whole night coming to the peanut-butter poison packet. I got almost zero sleep, but I didn't care. With every rustle and munch I heard, I knew their time was short and was filled with glee that my plan had worked! {Insert wicked laugh here.}

Fast forward to 6:00 am when Rhett was leaving for work, my plan failed! We checked the poison packet. Apparently, just a smear of peanut butter is enough for a mouse or two to party on all night long! They had licked up half the peanut butter and had not bitten into the poison at all! I stayed up all night for nothing listening to their peanut-butter-p*opin-party. Yeah, that's right. Just enough peanut butter to leave me plenty of pellets to clean up. Yay.

Sorry if there are typos in this. I'm pretty doggone tired! Stupid mice! I hate them! If I had one, I seriously would wear an "I Hate Mice!" t-shirt.
Mama Said

Note: Later, I did find where the mouse found our kitchen last night and ate an entire poison packet under the sink. I'm very, very grateful! I still stayed up for nothing and had even more "gifts" to clean up, but at least this one's taken care of!

Bad Kitty!

I found this in our bed this morning.

As anger toward my cat was rising to my eyeballs,

I realized what had happened.

Rhett slept all night on a chocolate covered raisin!

Whew!

Are You Kidding Me?

This is my life in this old house . . .

Yup, taking a shower and the whole thing collapses on me. Luckily, I wasn't hurt. But this is the kind of crap that happens daily around here. I am going battycakes!!!

And, of course, this happened the day after I vowed to stop saying "I hate this house" 100 times a day and try to appreciate its good qualities. I've having a really hard time thinking of any right now.

Here's to one more repair on the list!

Mama Said

Rhett's Big Night Out

So, Ol' Rhett and I went out to eat last night. Kinda for his birthday and kinda because BFG was at the grandparents. Every place in town was crowded of course even at 7:45. So, we ended up at a little Chinese bistro that was not overly full.

I was excited to be out and eating good food. I had even worn a cute sundress for Pete's sake. And about 5 minutes after we sat down, a blast from the past sat down right next to us. Yup, this crazy psycho and his entire family including like his entire family from out of state. We know this guy through someone else. And although I did associate with his wife some years ago, I had a feeling (okay, I was praying) they wouldn't recognize us. I can't really explain, but this is a family we want NO contact with.

So, basically, Rhett's big night out was ruined. We kept our chins down, made no eye contact with them, refused to turn our heads in that direction. We talked in code. Of course, when I was saying grace, I kept accidentally saying Rhett's name to the point that I'm laughing hysterically and Rhett yells out "You're done!" I feel bad that I never finished saying grace. But at least they didn't hear us or the Lord answered the very first thing we prayed for.

After we escaped unnoticed, we came home (despite my attempts to get Rhett to go look at baby stuff with me.) Rhett had me pull around to the chicken coop so he could close it up. Well, unfortunately, a hen and the four guinea hens had roosted on top of the door. When Rhett tried to get them down, one of them po*ped on his head. The door came slamming down after that. Ooooh, Rhett was so mad! And, yes, I rolled down the car windows so that he could hear me laughing at him. It was funny in itself, but funnier because he doesn't lose his cool too often.

Still giggling,
Mama Said

So Long!!!!

I was cleaning out my purse and found an old appointment card for the fertility clinic. It was for the very last time I was there when I saw this baby's heartbeat.

The emotions I felt seeing that card were weird! That clinic represents alot of ups and downs of hope and despair. Going there began as a hopeful thing that led to a hate of having to go. I started out not liking my doctor very much at all to him becoming one of my favorite doctors I've had (and that was before I got pg). A place I dreaded to go with a vengeance became a lifeline as they ran all the tests to ensure my baby was alive those first few weeks of pregnancy. The place that was to be our last step in this trying-to-conceive battle became a place where we saw the beginning of a new life to be added to our family.

I know all those trips to the fertility clinic were stepping stones God placed in our life and I thank Him for our journey.

But one feeling about the clinic rings out above all the other----

So Long, Clinic! Praise the Lord I'm done with you!!!

Making a joyful noise unto my Saviour,
Mama Said