Hindsight is 20-20. I realize now that Monday night I set myself up for failure.
Should I have skipped Carson's swim class at 7 pm? Probably.
Would I have spanked Carson if I hadn't been uber-stressed trying to get everyone fed, dressed, and back in the car for the 30 minute drive to swim class? Probably not.
Should I have scheduled my client conference call for 9 pm instead of 8:30? Most definitely.
Could I have asked my sister to come over for 30 minutes to hold Keaton during the conference call? Of course.
Did I do any of that? No.
Mine own fault.
Today was a breeze! The morning sailed by without incident. I picked up Carson from school and we had a blast playing swords, eating "Bawk-Mac-Dog" (which is an awesome concoction of Scrambled Egg, Mac n Cheese, & chopped up hot Dog), and then leisurely read two stories before bed. And Keaton slept blissfully the entire time.
Piece of cake.
But then the adventure really started five minutes before my bedtime. Just as I was shutting my laptop, I looked up to see a giant mouse scamper across my kitchen floor!!! EW!!
9:30 pm. Night is dark, windy, and chilly. Husband (mouse-slayer of choice) is out of town. Traps are all down in the barn. Plan A not going to work.
Plan B: Let fat lazy cats spend the night in the house and hope and pray that they catch the darn thing.
Only this plan was flawed.
First, I laid in bed wondering if one or both of them would jump into the crib, cozy up to Keaton, and then suffocate him accidentally.
Second, about once every 30 minutes I would wake up to MEEEEOOW. Alfie was wandering around looking for a little love instead of grey, furry, prey.
Third, I jumped out of bed due to a loud raucous in the family room. Coned dog was crashing into everything. Ran out in the hall. Heard a tiny squeak and saw a cat run past me, directly into my bedroom.
Then I had to search every nook and cranny of my room with a flashlight to find the poor injured creature. Nothing.
Keaton had a rough night due to backed up bowels so every time I got up, I worried that I was going to step on a small grey body.
Morning finally arrived. Mouse poop all over the kitchen and two cats cozied up on the couch. Damn it.
Carson came out in the meantime and instantly wanted to play. I was so worried about how to explain death to him in case we find the body. Here is our hilarious conversation.
C: Can we have our sword fight now.
M: No because my sword is in my room and we can’t go in there because the kitties are chasing a mouse.
C: Oh. Are they eating the mouse?
C: Well they barf after they eat the mouse.
M: Yes (trying really hard not to laugh)
C: And you have to clean up the barf.
M: Yes (actually that’s your daddy’s job)
C: Okay. Then let’s play sword’s after you clean up the barf.
Ate breakfast, added mouse traps to my shopping list, and then heard it . . . SQUEAK.
There was the little creature, laying on my bedroom floor, with a cat watching him. Knowing that sometimes the kitties are more interested in playing than killing, I ran into the kitchen to get a tupperware to scoop up the victim and dispose of him.
And then he was gone. Damn it again.
Under my bed!! It took 15 minutes, a flashlight, foam sword from the Dollar Store, a sour cream container, and a Playboy magazine but I finally got the little bugger. Clearly he was injured because he couldn't run very fast.
Let's hope the rest of Day 3 is even more uneventful!!