You are currently browsing the monthly archive for November 2011.

Hiiiii. Long time, no blog. How is everyone?

- Have you come out of your turkey coma yet? After three straight days of Thanksgiving deliciousness, I thought I couldn’t eat one more bite, and then this morning my mother-in-law gave me a gallon Ziplock bag of turkey and a giant Tupperware full of sides. You guys…I can’t. No more leftfovers! The sides, I don’t know, I guess I’m going to have to eat them. I’ll probably give the bulk of it to Bottomless Pit Owen, as he eats just about everything. As for the turkey, I’m going to turn it into soup, then freeze it until I can stand to look at poutlry again.

- In a box of hand-me-down toys, we found a set of plastic animals that Owen just loves. There’s one for each letter of the alphabet, and I’m astounded at how quickly he’s picked up their names. “Ippo” (Hippo) and “Addadada” (Alligator) are my personal favorites. Only, we’re having a little trouble with the letter ‘U’. Because….well, I have no idea what this animal is. I keep calling it a ram, but the big letter ‘U’ emblazoned on its haunches tells me I am WRONG.

So, uh, internets? What is this?

- Spotted at the grocery store: the “holiday line” of seltzer.

Flavors include eggnog, candy cane, granny smith apple, and pumpkin.

Eggnog seltzer? For some reason the idea of this makes me gag. On it’s own, eggnog teeters that line between being delicious and revolting, so now you want to go add bubbles to it? Meh. But what do I know, maybe it’s delicious! Or, actually just disgusting.

- I’m serious about that animial. First person to figure out what it is wins a bottle of eggnog seltzer.

It all started with a mouse.

Michael noticed some droppings in the garage, and again when he and a friend were attempting to install our new dishwasher (a story for another time). He didn’t know if they were recent or not, but went out and got some poison to cover all bases. He placed the poison in the garage, and the next day it was scattered around like the mouse had gotten into it, but not necessarily eaten it.

A friend told him the mouse, thinking the poison was food, was storing it for later. Which didn’t really help us now.

That night we went to bed a little later than usual and were just drifting of when Kodiak started barking. He wasn’t letting up and I didn’t want him to wake Owen, so I shuffled out of bed to quiet him. He was standing in the dining room seemingly barking at nothing, so I told him to be quiet and headed back to bed. Moments later, I heard….something.

I couldn’t exactly be sure what it was, or WHERE it was, but something was definitely in the house. As my brain went into panic mode (“What IS that? Is that what Kodiak was barking at? Did someone get in the house somehow?”) I shoved Michael to wake up. “What is that???” I hissed. We listened. Nothing.

And then…

Click, click, click, sliiiiiiide, THUMP.

Click, click, click, sliiiiiiide, THUMP.

Oh damn it, a mouse was in the house.

I grew up in a house surrounded by woods, so I’m no stranger to the odd creature causing mischief, but that doesn’t mean I want one in my house. To make matters worse, we couldn’t tell exactly where it was coming from. With the hardwood floors, it sounded like it was next door in the guest room running havoc, but then the next second it sounded like it was across the hall in Owen’s room (“Can mice climb cribs??”). I sent Michael out to check things out. No sign of a mouse.

But the sound continued.

Click, click, click, sliiiiiiide, THUMP, until we determined it was most likely in the wall. All I could think of was the Mouse King from The Nutcracker, whose evil-ness always scared me as a child. Despite myself, I couldn’t help humming some Tchaikovsky to myself.

Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well that night.

The next day I went out and bought some traps and Michael set them up in the garage, and the following morning, the mouse was no more. But just in case he had some friends, he left the other traps set on either side of my car.

Later, I was heading to the grocery store and as I was backing out of the garage, something told me I needed to be extra careful, that if I turned my wheel only just a little, I would hit one of the traps. I’m not really sure why my brain was thinking this way, but go with it.

Despite being what I thought was super careful, apparently…I wasn’t. Because I hit the garage.

I happened to be on the phone with my mom at the time (which really didn’t contribute to it, I swear), and I as I tried to explain what just happened, my mind went blank. “I hit the….the…not the garage but the….you know, the thing around the garage…I mean…the….ugh, that damn mouse!” She laughed at my inability to form sentences as my mind went to just how pissed Michael was going to be. We just moved into the house! Way to go, Molly.

Luckily, the damage is minimal and he was able to hammer the piece back in the for time being. It’s not perfect, but it certainly doesn’t look like the above picture anymore. And I did no damage to the car, thank goodness.

But still. I blame that mouse. If it weren’t for the mouse there wouldn’t have been a trap, and if there wasn’t a trap I wouldn’t have thought I had to avoid it, and if I hadn’t tried to avoid it I wouldn’t have HIT MY HOUSE WITH MY CAR, and if I hadn’t hit my house with the car then my husband would have nothing to make fun of me for daily. (Well, that’s not true. He’d probably find something. But it wouldn’t be like, “Hit anything lately?”, which is what I hear a lot now.)

And so, I blame the mouse. I hope his little cronies saw what happened to him, because I won’t be so nice the next time around.

Click, click, click, sliiiiiiide, THUMP.

In lieu of a real post, I’m asking for your help today. I’m hosting my first-ever holiday party for a small group of friends and have decided to make it an all-appetizer affair.

Just the words “all-appetizers” make my heart go pitter patter.

Anyway, if you share my affinity for All Things Apps, I’m hoping you’ll share a suggestion for one I should make for the party. Included recipes are appreciated!

Thanks, and we’ll return to regular scheduled blogging tomorrow.

xo

Know what I haven’t talked about in a while? Poop. So let’s do that today.

You’re welcome.

Moms with toddlers, can I just ask you, how many times a day does your kid poop? Because lately it seems like that’s all Owen does. Yesterday he had six — SIX — sizeable poops (or poopahs, as he calls them) between 6 a.m. and noon. That’s like, one an hour! He’s not sick or anything, they’re your run-of-the-mill standard poops, but for the life of me I cannot understand where it’s all coming from.

We’re on poopah #3 right now and it’s 10:20 a.m.

I’m thinking maybe it’s because he’s becoming a typical boy and wants to eat all.the.time. Maybe? At least he’s a happy pooper. After he’s done if you ask if he needs a diaper he will announce “poopaaaah!” and either run to his changing table, or lie down on the floor to be changed. Sometimes he runs away laughing, but most of the time he’s ready to get rid of the mess.

But still. So many poops. So weird.

Let’s get back to that eating thing. A friend of mine has three young boys and her oldest, just five years old, already eats a massive breakfast every day. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like for her when they are all in high school. As it stands, I can’t keep milk and bananas in the house because Owen plows through them and he’s only 16 months old. Is he (and all the friends he invites over) going to eat me out of house and home daily? Do boys really eat as much as I think they do?

Owen eats all the time. Fruit, vegetables, bread, eggs, GOLDFISH CRACKERS. I swear, he would live on Goldfish and milk alone if I let him. I don’t, promise. Prehaps they are the cause of all the pooping? He doesn’t use the word “eat” yet, instead he smacks his lips together when he’s hungry and walks over to his high chair. He does this probably twice between breakfast and lunch, where as I’m lucky if I remember to eat breakfast most days. And as soon as you begin to eat something, he’s in your face asking for “more mease (please)” and must have a bite of whatever you’re eating. And then another bite. This kid is a bottomless pit.

I guess he’s just a growing boy? He’s long and lean (except for those cheeks) and I guess he’s burning a lot of calories running around the house. But still. The food.

And all the poops.

My goodness.

This right here is reason enough to have children.

Hope you all had a happy Halloween, we sure did!

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