Okay, it's a long story. But really, what else do you have to do? Read it. It's a doozy.
Where oh where to start this story? I could start with the last 3 hours of me holding Sydney, her ear draining onto my shoulder. Or I could start with me in the doctor's office at 9 AM this morning. Or waking up to Daisy barking at 2 AM. Or last week when the contractors began working on our house. Best to start at the beginning.
My brother is moving in with us in the next couple of weeks, into a bedroom/family room that was added on to our garage. My parents decided that it would be nice if he had his own bathroom, and wanted to hire a contractor to install a bathroom in our oversized garage. We, never ones to complain if someone wants to increase the value of our home, thought this was a brilliant idea. The contractor brought his crew out last week and started. As part of the plumbing work, they drilled holes into the garage floor connecting the garage with the house's crawl space. Medium sized holes that were left open for a day or so. Indeed.
Last night Sydney woke up at 12:30 and cried a little bit. I thought it was because she has four teeth coming in all at once. That whole teething bit is really quite a nasty trick to put babies through, for it is hard miserable work. And while Syd's a real trooper during the day about it, at night she has all this time to ponder the pain that keeps her awake. She reasons that if she has to be awake, then I have to be awake. There's no use trying to convince her otherwise...believe me, I've tried. I gave her some baby Motrin and eventually she goes back to sleep.
Two o'clock in the morning I wake up to the sound of Daisy barking. Not all that unusual. She's not what I would call 'yippy,' but she's not quiet. She's sitting on the edge of our bed, looking at the floor, growling. Jason thinks she's just barking at the neighbor dog and sends her out of our room. About this time I hear a little 'squeaky squeakity squeak squeak.' What the...? That is NOT what I think it is.
No, it was.
A mouse. In the house. Or rather, under the house. And every time the mouse got within a few feet of our bedroom it would start squeaking because we have installed a sonic noise thingy that (in theory) keeps rodents and large bugs away from our room. So being particularly a stupid mouse, it would run towards our room, screech in pain, run away, and then run back a couple minutes later. And these weren't little bitty squeaks. These were the mother-of-all-mad-as-a-hatter-cats-in-heat screeches. At 2 AM. And 2:04. And 2:09.
And if at any point during that last paragraph you thought "poor little mouse," there is a special place in hell for you.
So screeching mouse, barking dog, and to round out the trifecta of noise: crying baby. I check on Sydney again, but it's not her teeth bothering her, it's her ears. Her crib sheet bears the signs of ear fluid, and even though she's not screaming bloody murder (like I remember myself doing as a child when I had ear infections), she's not a happy camper. This is her first ear infection, and after a trip to the doctor she's on amoxicillin (the bubble gum smell brings back such memories). But I'm getting ahead of myself...
I eventually get her back to sleep, but I start to panic. Not about her ears, but about the mouse jumping into her crib. Why would the mouse jump into her crib? Look, it was the middle of the night. That mouse could have learned to knit for all I knew. So recalling too many National Geographic videos about the kangaroo mouse that bounds and leaps through the wilderness, I suspect that Mr. Mouse could jump up to the floor vent, open it with his tiny little paws, scurry through, and jump into Sydney's crib where he could infect her with rabies or salmonella or rubella or something. I was freaked.
So, I unload the clean clothes out of Syd's playpen (don't ask) that's in our room, and try to put her to sleep in there. But imagine yourself sleeping somewhat restfully on a regular mattress, and then being transferred to a mattress the thickness of a beach towel. Sydney was so NOT going to sleep in her playpen. She ends up in bed with us for awhile, me not sleeping, Jason wondering who this crazy woman is next to him ("you think the mouse is going to jump into her crib?"), Sydney miserable with exhaustion and pain.
At some point, probably around 4 AM, I realize that I will just cover up the floor vent in Sydney's room, and keep the door closed to protect her from any attacking mice. Oh, yes, I will outwit, outlast and outplay this drat Mouse. She ends up back in her crib, she sleeps, I sleep, Daisy continues barking out in the living room.
After work today, Jason got some rodent poison as well as a mouse trap that catches the mouse alive. I wanted an opportunity to have some words with Mr. Mouse before we put him out of his misery. Here's hoping we get lucky tonight (you know what I mean).
...Here mousey mousey...