The Mouse in My Car

Okay, so on Tuesday I went out to my car and noticed an odd smell. No big deal there must be something left behind by the kids in the car somewhere. So I look around and find a milk container. Surely that was the culprit, then went about my day.

After a wonderful experience watching Harry Potter, I ran to a retail store, and the smell was still there. Okay, fine, I didn't find it. I was in the store maybe 30 minutes and by the time I got back out to the car the smell was overwhelming. Okay...fine I call C and he comes down stairs and we begin to clean out the little bit of mess in the car. Still the smell is there. So C pulls up the mat in the front and we found mouse droppings, well damn.

What is it about the Malibu that the mice like? This makes our second mousey visitor. C pulls the panels from around the console and we found a little mouse nest and upon vacuuming it all out and getting the car back together, the smell was still there.

I ran it up to Lamb's and told him my trouble. He went out and sniffed about in the car and said, yup, something has died in there, but I can't help you tonight, I close in an hour. Crap.

So this morning, I took my sad smelly car to Lamb's. They pulled off the panels, took out the seat, took off the door, and sniffed their way to where they thought he might be. Using a camera scope, they found the dead little mouse in... get this, the door frame.

Not the door panel, or the a/c box, or a duct, but in the actual metal frame tube that the car is built around. You know the only metal, save the engine, in my car? The only way to get to dead mouse...cutting the frame open, clean him out and weld it back together.

Enter the insurance company. Thank you, hubby for insisting we have the most comprehensive coverage you can get on a car, sure it's a little expensive, but they are going to pay to take care of what has now been declared a health hazard and provide a rental car and I'm only out fifty bucks.


Yeah...so now I'm going to have dead decaying thing sitting in the frame of my car until Monday when the insurance claims guy goes out and inspects the car, then they will find the best solution for getting out the freaking health hazard, and then... I'll get my sad stinky car back.

*sigh*

Birthday Ponderings

Wanted: One time machine, capable of sending me back in time to inhabit myself 13 years ago, armed with the knowledge I have now.

But Sarah, why would you want to go back?

Ah, because I would make such DIFFERENT choices. I would spend more time watching my children sleep, and sliding down the yellow plastic slide at the park and reading that extra story, and I would have started K on meds a full year earlier. I would have taken more pictures and spent that extra hour at the park even though I was tired and ready to go home, but they weren't. I would have listened to my husbands advice sooner, and been more willing to admit he was right.

Of course there are things I would do the same. I would still vaccinate my children, and I would still have taken time to sleep in on Saturdays and I would still let them climb to the top, even though I was so sure they were going to fall and break an arm. I would still rock them to sleep, and sit bleary-eyed in the doorway of their room listening to them breath as they struggled through the croup. I would still pester their teachers with questions that every mom wants to ask and sometimes never does.

But then again...

I wouldn't have the children I have now. They would be different and I rather like who they are. Even when I have to cut gum out of K's hair or pay the extra $125.00 on my phone bill B racked up using the internet, though maybe I'd have disable the internet from the get go...

Still, I love the crazy mixed up girls in my life and I'm so glad to have celebrated another year of their lives with them.

Strange Rudeness

So let me set the scene for you. I had a bunch of errands to run today and one of them was a quick stop at Hobby Lobby to get some flag paper for Katie's Veteran's Day poster. I get what I need and go stand in the line of six people at the only open register. *sigh*

As I'm standing there, the lady behind me strikes up a conversation. Not an unusual occurrence and I am not bothered by talking to strangers in the store as we all wait in line to buy our things. This conversation took the strangest turn...

Her, small thin, older lady with gray hair going white. "That's pretty paper. 4th of July scrapbook page?"

Me: "Oh, no, I'm helping my daughter make a poster of family and friends that are veterans."

Her: "That's nice. How old is your daughter?"

Me: "Almost nine. Her birthday is this Friday."

Her: "Oh that's nice. Is she your only child?"

Ok, now don't get me wrong, so far this is all innocuous and I have nothing to hide and I'm very proud of my children, and I like to humor old people, because frankly I hope young people will humor me when I'm old.

Me: "No, I have another daughter, she just turned twelve."

At this, the woman's eyes narrowed a bit, and she took in my brown peasant top, ripped jeans, battered converse all stars, tie-dye hair band (the only one I could find, thank you very much) and her eyes stopped on my bare left hand. At this point I got a bit uncomfortable. I have always worried in the back of my mind that people, complete strangers, judge me based on my age and the age of my children and my lack of wedding ring. I don't wear one, because I lost it and haven't gotten around to replacing the thing yet.

Her: "Honey, how old are you?"

All I could do was blink. She looked like a sweet grandma. And to my own astonishment I freaking answered her. "Thirty-one." Not a number I'm ashamed of in the least, I'm quite proud to be 31 and enjoy my life and the gifts I have been given.

That seemed to offend her sensibilities when she did the math in her head. She put her hand on my arm, looked me in my baffled eyes and said, I kid you not, "You need to get married and settle down honey. But then I don't know a man in his right mind that would take such a wayward girl with half grown children."

I'm sorry, what? Wait, did she just say that to me? Really? I stood there dumbfounded. There wasn't anyone in line behind her and the woman in front of me, I think, pretended not to hear, and I was saved from saying something horrible to this nice looking old lady by another cashier walking up and calling her from the line. I paid for my four sheets of scrapbook paper, and went to sit in my car. Mostly I was and am just offended. It's none of her business if I'm married or not. Or how old I was when I chose to bring life into this world.

Honestly, did she think she was doing me a service by voicing her backward opinion? I don't really want to know. Though I think I will make time to go get a new wedding band this weekend.