Let me just preface this by saying that I hate rodents. If you read
this post, you know that mice are one of my big fears. I don't know why, but I just hate mice. I don't mind spiders, but I hate mice. My children will never know the joy of owning a rat, hamster, gerbil, or any other type of rodent. Sorry Jonah and future children, too much for me.
I also want to say that I grew up in a house of mice, and not mice that were welcome. We lived in a house surrounded by fields on all but one side, so we always had mice problems. I'm not sure why my mom never got a cat, but I'm kind of glad because I hate cats almost as much as I hate mice. So anyway, I should be used to mice. But I'm not. I remember walking into our storage room and seeing mice desperately trying to get off the sticky pad they had been lured onto and every time I saw one, it made me want to barf.
So yeah, I hate mice.
So now to the point of this story: We have (or had) a mouse in our house. I know! Nasty, disgusting, vomit-inducing. I know people associate mice with disease and dirtiness, but I swear, I am not diseased or dirty.
At night, I feed Jonah a bottle in his bedroom in the rocking chair and then I usually put the bottle on the ottoman and put him in his bed for the night. On Sunday night, I left the bottle in his room that night and somehow it fell off the ottoman onto the floor (probably got knocked off when I got up and somehow I missed it and forgot to bring it into the kitchen). So Monday morning during Jonah's nap, I was cleaning up the house and went to his room to get the bottle I had left there the night before. I picked it up and noticed that there was a hole in the nipple. A hole in the nipple of this $8 bottle! I wondered if it had fallen on the heater and had melted, but it was too far from the heating vent for that to be possible. I noticed that there were teeny tiny little bite marks all over the nipple and immediately my heart sank. A mouse had eaten the nipple of the bottle. I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to throw up.
I called Scott to tell him what happened and he told me to go get mouse traps and we would strategically place them throughout the house when he got home from work. I did just that and we put one or two in each room. We even used the sticky pads that I remembered from my childhood but I told Scott that he would be cleaning those up if any mice got stuck on them. He agreed because he used them (plus setting the mice on fire with OFF mosquito repellent) on his mission in the Dominican Republic and he knew they worked the best.
So a little later, we were eating dinner at the bar in the kitchen and I looked up and saw a mouse scurry from the hall to the pantry. It confirmed my fears. I didn't think I could finish my dinner, but I did. Because it was so good.
Jonah slept in our bed because I couldn't bear the thought of him sleeping in his room and a little mouse playing around in his toys at night (and maybe even in his bed, but I don't go there or I want to throw up). I'm pretty sure if he were old enough, he would not want to share his toys with a mouse. It was a long night because none of us sleep well when he's in our bed...except maybe Scott.
Jonah woke up around 6:30 and wouldn't go back to sleep, so I got up to make him a bottle and to go to the bathroom. We had strategically placed one of the sticky pads underneath a cabinet in the bathroom where there is a large, dark space (that was my idea, thank you very much). I hurriedly looked under the cabinet to see if the trap was successful, and to my delight, there was a lump on the sticky pad. I didn't do anything about it though, because I knew it was still alive and I would throw up if I saw it trying to get off. I got back into bed and told Scott about my discovery and he didn't believe me so I told him to go look for himself. He came back and said that there was sure a mouse on the pad and that it was sure still alive.
He properly disposed of the mouse in the outside garbage can (thanks
hun! You're the best). And that was that. I felt like I had my house back. Until I called my mom to tell her the story of the mouse. She proceeded to tell me that mice live together in threes or fours. Great. So the traps are still set and I will live in fear in my own home until we catch three or four mice. She also told me that at one point during one of their infestations that she
caught at least eight mice. I don't know what I will do if we have to catch eight mice to be done with this.
The thing that disgusts me so much about mice is that they are like uninvited guests. They come in unannounced, sneak around all day scurrying all over your things, eat your food, throw parties in your bedroom while you're sleeping, and poop on your carpet without cleaning up after themselves. At least babies wear diapers and dogs can be potty trained. Mice leave you with the consequences, but you did not choose to have them there. So basically it is a breach of my agency. I'm being punished for someone
elses actions.